I didn't want to draw anything on this leather. I only wanted it to look the way the earth looks the morning after a storm.
You know that morning. You step outside and everything has moved. The water went wherever it wanted, it dug and lifted and left its marks everywhere. And still, the air is different. Cleaner. You can breathe all the way down.
So I worked it with my hands, here in the atelier, fold by fold, until it began to look like a riverbank that has just changed its course. Then I went over it with the airbrush, again and again, and let the brown lose itself slowly in black, like a sky that hasn't fully cleared but isn't raining anymore.
Nothing on it is smooth. But nothing on it is broken either.
Inside, I wanted quiet. I lined it in lamb leather, soft as a palm. Two pockets for the small things you don't want to search for, and a place for a pen. It closes with a zip. I riveted the long black straps so it sits well on the shoulder, and the fringes at the corners sway as you walk.
I made it for whoever has been through their own storm and come out the other side. Walking differently. Seeing more clearly.
Leather: natural leather worked in the atelier, airbrushed by hand in brown and black
Lining: lamb leather
Inside: two pockets and a pen holder
Closure: zip
Straps: two long black leather straps, riveted to the sides, worn on the shoulder
