A very commercial street in the 14th arrondissement. A carriage door that opens onto the old Paris of artisans. A courtyard, then a second courtyard, silent maze like the backdrop of a backstage city. The long glass-roofed workshop has looked west for generations of hardworking hands. Blackened metal machines, work tables covered with a beautiful emerald green, old learned posters, lockers for the boards and essential library. Hot in summer, cold in winter, which hinders the biting of the metal by the acid in the tanks. Érik Desmazières' workshop seems to have been there since the dawn of time. And yet, it has been barely more than a year since this gentleman in a navy blue apron, elected to the Academy of Fine Arts in the engraving section since 2008, settled there, leaving in its own juice what was a engraving class workshop. The presses that make up the landscape of an engraver are as heavy as anvils. The ground floor is intended for them, by vocation.
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