The turning point was in Florence, on the bank of the Arno. Carl-Johann had made a sketch of the Ponte Vecchio that would not come right, and he threw it into the water. Standing there, he made himself a promise: I will not leave this place without knowing how to draw.
Painting is impossible without knowing how to draw.
Three years followed in a traditional Florentine atelier where improvisation had no place — drawing and painting from life, observing, constructing, refining. Only after the pencil was mastered did he permit himself the brush. Everything since has rested on that foundation.
His lineage is the one he chose for himself in the museums: Corot, that wonderful painter of the outdoors; Winslow Homer, the American master who blended discipline with freedom; Sosthène Weis, whose formats and moods shaped his early years. Having spent so much time with them in museums, I feel as though I know them. I understand what mattered to them.
Born in Paris, he grew up in France and finished his schooling in England, at Ampleforth College. At nineteen he set out on a long journey through Latin America, then worked for several months in Shanghai, before the three years in Florence. Today he lives between Europe and Bali with his wife and their children.
The watercolours are painted outdoors, in front of the thing itself — a ridge in the Alps, a lane in Normandy at first light, a courtyard in Alsace, a path through the palms in Bali. Each is finished on the spot, in one sitting, at the speed the light allows. That is the discipline the medium imposes, and the reason no two can ever be alike.
Watercolour painting is about acceptance. Letting go. It is a powerful inner process, always in motion.
Prince Carl-Johann de Nassau