ACCOUNTING

A wet glittering sun sizzles upon the gravel road that leads to Currado Malaspina's summer studio in Languedoc-Roussillon. Situated about three kilometers west of the huge salt-water swamp of Camargue, it is not unusual to spot one of the many beautiful cliff birds that are indigenous to the area.

The garden behind Currado Malaspina's Languedoc-Roussillon studio. 2013

For Currado, summer begins in April and ends sometime in late June when he cedes his little portion of paradise to foreign tourists, typically Germans, ready to spend upwards of €1500 a week for the privilege of renting his cozy two bedroom cottage.

Till then, he spends his time reading the Georgics, grilling gamey meats and painting small, insignificant watercolors on scraps of discarded drawing paper.

Untitled watercolor, Currado Malaspina, 2013

For my good friend Currado, the season is one glorious, languorous, unending day. His pictures, usually no larger than the size of a man's palm, command in the rancorous Parisian art market the decidedly immodest sum of €7500.

For my good friend Currado Malaspina, profit is never poisoned by the brunt of onerous exertion.