Some say it’s the walk there that does it. The promenade down a rambling city path and through a crowd of coffee-swigging commuters that fuels the inspiration that can only be spat out when one is positioned at a desk before a blank library wall.
In the fourteenth century in Italy the poet Petrarch rekindled classical ideas about the merits of a space not so dissimilar to this in character. Best to make one’s desk in a room adjoining the bedroom, he said. That way, the writer need not leave his cell at all. In ancient Rome, even more so, nature was often considered a distraction.
Both writers and artists since have honed the skill of mixing a little hibiscus with their hermitude.
In the nineteenth century, packaging ready-to-use oil paints in portable little tubes revolutionized the way the Impressionists worked.
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