Mojo London

“I'm a 16 year old high schooler, and had never given much thought to small sketchbooks before. After being inspired by a video on youtube.com, I decided to start art journaling. The person had recommended Moleskines, so I trusted her and bought one. Even though it honestly is the most expensive sketchbook I've ever got my hands on, I couldn't think of what better way to spend the money.
The pages are sturdy and glossy, yet perfect to work on with any media (although I noticed that if you work with acrylic paints on both sides, when you close the book the area of the pages closest to the bind may become stuck - rub some chalk on it before you close it). I bought my first Moleskine at the end of last November and I only have around ten pages left. I really enjoy working on this sketchbook because it's really easy to carry around and simply looks snazzy! I can easily fit it in my schoolbag and show my art teacher my most recent work.
I do think, however, that there should be a larger model, as I feel that most of the time I want to expand the paintings.

OUR REPLY: Thanks Catia for your great feedback. I would not recommend the sketchbook for watercolour ( although other medias are fine ), there is a watercolour book for that purpose.

Watch this space, the new extra large Folio Moleskine sketchbooks are being launched soon, trust me - you will love them!

“I confess that I was drawn into the Moleskine obsession after reading the history of the notebook. I fell in love with the idea of using the same notebook used by Hemingway, Van Gogh, Henri Matisse, and bought one on impulse, having yearned for one for a long time. Being quite difficult to find makes them seem even more romantic - with a moleskine you can be a writer, a wit, a poet, an artist, a romantic. Unfortunately, and through no fault whatsoever of the notebook, because of this fine history, I got the Moleskine home and discovered I have absolutely nothing to write in it. I am no Hemingway, writing notes for a future classic novel, nor am I a Van Gogh, sketching a future masterpiece in my book. I am a mere mortal, which raises the question of what on earth do I write in this thing? It seems such a waste, almost a sacrelige, to write down things such as "remember - buy socks," or "party guestlist." These mundanities should be reserved for the back of an envelope. Chatwin would be spinning in his grave. I then made the unfortunate mistake of writing just such things in my beautiful book, and the dream shattered before my eyes the moment the first crisp page was tainted. I tried to rip the offending pages out, but due to the way the pages are bound, they all are now slowly falling out,the one and only fault I can find with the thing. It is only while you have not dirtied the virginal pages that you have the fantasy that comes with the book - after you start, it immediately hits you how very normal you actually are.”