Turpsy

Back at his canvas he drew some more with Prussian blue, wiped his hands on a turpsy rag, and went over to the telephone.

There was the fresh, turpsy smell of conifers, and from a quarter of a mile away the salty tang of shifting sea water.

I had lived with him, scarcely conscious that he had an individual smell at all. But now I could recognise it at once - soapy, mentholy, a little sweaty, musky, turpsy. I passed the material under my nose, and his presence was filling my head.

The Sleeping lubra is an oil painting on board, and the underpainting, which has been laid in as a transparent wash, seems to have been mixed with some incompatible substance that has caused the colour to marble, possibly the result of clear enamel being dropped directly into the turpsy film of oil paint.

But another canvas of the same size [probably Studio II] was only just begun: it had been scribbled all over with a very loose turpsy mixture of ochre-honey colour with a biggish brush.