You wandered up a cul-de-sac, and now you've come back

I went to a record fair last weekend, and on the way back home I popped into Wolverhampton Art Gallery, where there was a wonderful exhibition of Harry Eccleston's drawings, gouache paintings and etchings (he was the first full-time artist and designer of bank notes for the Bank of England.) I was sort of hoping that the gallery might have some of his prints or postcards in its shop, but alas, the usual lineup of Pre-Raphaelite ladies on the carousel. 

I was really in awe of his work (including a fully labelled drawing of a fire engine he did aged 12 that made me want to just give up right away) - lovely rich velvety blacks and greys, gleaming slices, sprays and spreads of pure white. I wish I'd had the chance to try etching at some point in my art education, I'm always drawn to the look of it. 

Anyway, it fired me up a bit, after weeks of feeling deeply mediocre and uninspired, I sat down and drew all day long, listening to Leonard Cohen, Françoise Hardy and The Wedding Present.