A reclining figure on a large sheet, built through dense, layered cross-hatching that gives the drawing real physical weight. The viewpoint is slightly elevated, looking down at the figure, which compresses the body and emphasises its mass — the foreshortening pushes the torso forward while the legs recede. The marks are deliberate and accumulative: charcoal or graphite pressed into the paper in short, directional strokes that build darkness through repetition rather than pressure alone. Around the head and beneath the body, the hatching is at its densest, almost black, and the figure seems to sink into the surface it rests on.

A small sketch sits in the upper left corner of the sheet — possibly an earlier attempt at the same pose from a different angle, or a quick note about the composition before committing to the larger study. Either way, its presence on the page is honest: it shows the thinking that preceded the main drawing rather than hiding it.

Look longer, though, and there's a restlessness in the surface that keeps the drawing alive. The marks haven't been smoothed or blended — each stroke retains its own direction, its own pressure, and the texture that results has a physical quality that softer tonal approaches don't carry. The figure emerges from accumulated texture rather than from line or modelled tone. Seeing this alongside the sanguine work from later in the same session — where the approach becomes almost the opposite: open, spare, warm — makes the range within a single sitting visible. Here the commitment is to density and darkness — the figure as something heavy and held.