A few years back, Arches still used animal glue and sizing in their paper. And let me tell you, that led to a proper “oh dear, I just stepped into something” moment. I was painting quietly in my room when I kept sniffing the air and checking under my shoe. The culprit? The paper itself. Once you wet it, it gave off this odd, sweet, manure-like smell—something between a farmyard and a damp meadow.

Now, as it turned out, I wasn’t the only one charmed by the fragrance. Insects loved it. Especially those tiny Frisian mosquitoes, the infamous knutjes. One summer evening, around six, I was sitting at the waterfront with my sketch ready. I brushed in a wet wash to let the first colors flow. And then it happened: the smell rose, and within seconds, a full squadron of biting gnats came swarming, drawn in by what must have smelled to them like a five-star buffet. They didn’t just hover over the paper—they came for me, too. I had to retreat ten meters away, waving my arms like a scarecrow in panic, just waiting for my precious paper to dry. Painting was out of the question. The knutjes had claimed victory.

Another time, I was sketching a village scene on a quiet B-road: church, trees, houses, and a green lawn in the foreground. Hardly any walkers, mostly cyclists—perfect if you don’t want to be disturbed. The drawing was done, so I flooded the paper with a first juicy wash, covering almost everything except the highlights I wanted to keep. Just as I put down my brush, a man strolled over, clearly curious.

“May I admire your work for a moment?” he asked politely.“Of course,” I said.

He leaned in, took one deep whiff of the freshly wetted Arches paper—and recoiled like I’d just done something scandalous right there in the street. His eyes flicked to me, suspicious, as if I’d let off the smell myself. By then, I was long used to it, but for him it was pure shock.

“Yes, yes, I can see you smell something, that’s possible,” I told him. “But really, it’s the paper—animal glue and all. Go on, smell it.”He waved me off immediately: “No, no, it’s fine,” and briskly walked away, muttering to himself.

These days, Arches uses a different kind of glue. It still has a faint scent, but nothing like the old days. Oddly enough, I almost miss it.