Hassilabied: The desert & making friends on the road

Hassilabied: The desert & making friends on the road

I met M & E on the ride from Chefchaouen to Fes. I was still reeling from having been hustled onto the bus, impatient driver tapping toes as I carefully stowed my pack below in the cargo, insisting that I must hurry – as if we were already running late. We did not end up leaving for another half an hour.

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Chefchaouen: Why I hate haggling

Chefchaouen: Why I hate haggling

The ride from Tangier to Chefchaouen was spent crammed into the back seat of an old Mercedes, shoulders twisted, abs engaged, one arm held out, palm flat against the seat in front to keep me front spilling into the lap of the stranger next to me. My initiation into the joys of travel by Grand Taxi was all I had heard it would be – uncomfortable.

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Painting Without Lines & Dreaming of Museums

Painting Without Lines & Dreaming of Museums

I am a tidy person, perhaps this is why an illustration style with black ink lines containing the colour comes more naturally to my hand. But it is also a constricting genre, both practically and professionally. I struggle to call myself a Painter – with a capital P – because of these lines.

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I'm Genevieve, a nomadic artist with a passion for the environment.

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