I was dropped off under a cold drizzle on Gottlieb-Dunkel-Straße, squinting up to the bright grey sky and the eight stories of minty green concrete that make up Greenhouse Berlin. I took the elevator up to Adam Fearon’s studio, a light-filled open space scattered with brushes, books and canvases of every size, where the scent of the rain-damp streets outside was replaced by paint fumes and coffee.
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