For over twenty years, my studio in December has smelled less of pine and more of graphite, ink, and the faint, comforting dust of pastels. While others hunt for the perfect tree, I hunt for the perfe...
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For over twenty years, my studio in December has smelled less of pine and more of graphite, ink, and the faint, comforting dust of pastels. While others hunt for the perfect tree, I hunt for the perfe...