"One recent weekday morning, the British painter Peter Doig arrived at a bonded warehouse-a cavernous brick building-about a mile south of the River Thames, but not subject to the import taxes of the United Kingdom. He buzzed through security and entered a windowless white room, where he settled in for a long day. Awaiting him were a series of etching prints that had been brought over from the United States to be signed by Doig before being put up for sale."
"Doig was game. He was wearing aviator-style eyeglasses, brown leather shoes, a denim work shirt, and a gray sweater with sleeves rolled up. The Lasrys' adult son, Teddy, read out the edition numbers, eraser at the ready. Doig made conversation as he numbered and signed them with a sharp blue pencil. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty-shit! "It's a bit like chewing gum and scratching your head at the same time," Doig said."
Peter Doig traveled to a bonded warehouse south of the River Thames to sign thirty-two etching prints, each in editions of twenty-eight, totaling eight hundred ninety-six signatures. David and Evelyn Lasry of Two Palms facilitated the prints' transport from New York and assisted during the signing. Doig numbered and signed each print with a sharp blue pencil while conversing and listening to Teddy Lasry call edition numbers. The prints originated from a long exchange with Derek Walcott, whose poetry responded to Doig's paintings; Doig then produced etchings inspired by Walcott's verses. Doig often paints alpine scenes and has high auction valuations.
Read at The New Yorker
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