He had a tremendous hand - his sketches, even when absinthe-soaked, show a breathtaking quick insight of line. He worked at his art: his seemingly effortless posters were blocked and reblocked (the sketches and studies are in the museum) until he got not only the telling hand or lifted calf but also the silhouetted top hat and the ghoulish green eye shadow or kohled eyelid that reveals how much he despised some of his subjects. He was curiously gentle in his treatment of animals - the son of a fox hunter, he repeatedly sketched race and jumping horses, often from the side or rear, as if there were something impertinent in asking even a horse to pose for him. Absinthe wrecked him and he died at 37.