Artistic Anatomy

The artist has long found anatomy to be integral to his training. This is why, for over 2,000 years artists have trained by drawing, painting, and sculpting the nude.

The first concrete accounts of specific anatomical study by an artist arose around the 15th century. Leonardo da Vinci was known to dissect corpses and make detailed drawings of his findings. However, there are some accounts of this practice being done even during the time of the ancient Greeks.

This picture is of an ecorche that I made as an anatomical study. This piece roughly follows the tradition of the ecorche which originated in the French academy in the 19th century.

The Theory of the Nude

My friends and family often ask me why so many artists paint (as they say) “naked people”. Some think that the nude is only pornography, while others just think that it’s out-dated in the art world. Most artists will tell you something along the lines of “we don’t see them as ‘naked’ we just see beauty”. Though this may be true, it doesn’t answer our question. As a classically trained artist myself I have a theory on why people make art using the nude. I think the first step in understanding the nude in art is to understand why people made them in the past, and why they continue to make them.
There are three basic categories of nudes, which are not necessarily mutually exclusive (sometimes they overlap):
The Ideal Nude: Originating with the Greeks, the ideal nude is just a concept really, the basis of which was most clearly explained by Plato. He stated that within all things there is a universal and divine “form” that defines it. For example: if you look at 100 trees, each individual tree will look different, yet they are all similar enough to categorize them as trees. What is the sameness or underlying quality of the tree which makes it a tree? This thing, this sameness, Plato called form. Greek artists took this idea and tried to find the ideal form of the human body. They used shapes in the human body, much like a musician would use musical notes to form a chord. The idea was to create a harmony through repetition and variation of certain visual elements of the body. Excellent examples of this are, of course, classical Greek and Roman sculpture, Leonardo da Vinci (who also could be mentioned in all of these categories for different works), Donatello, Rafael, and the Neo-classicists of the 19th century.
The Observed Nude: Originating in the Fayum portraits of ancient Greece in a technique of painting called Encaustic, which uses wax as a medium for pigment instead of oil or water. The main purpose of this originated in portraiture and was all about trying to capture the individual’s personality and particular appearance. Great examples of this can be found in the paintings of Rembrandt, John Singer Sargent, and ancient Roman portrait busts.
The Expressive Nude: This form is intended to do just what the name implies. The nude is used here as the main vehicle for the artist’s expression, usually with emotive, and in the case of the Renaissance, devotional purposes. Great examples would be the work of Michelangelo (who could be classified under ideal nude as well) and most of the artists of the modern period: Rodin, Picasso, Matisse, Kathe Kollwitz, Edvard Munch, and Paul Gauguin etc…
I would like to rephrase our original question in the interest of brevity and to be more specific. “Why is it that the most recurring subject in all of art history by far is the human face and body?” Modern scientific research also gives us a clue to the reasons behind our question. The human face and the human body are psychologically stimulating to the mind. Our brains are actually hard wired to recognize human form. Take, for example, a chimpanzee. If you look at three different chimps for 5 seconds, would you be able to tell them apart as individuals? Now if you look at three human faces for 5 seconds, I bet your success rate will be much greater. But a chimp can recognize and differentiate between other chimps much easier, just as you can recognize a human face much easier.
You might say, Ok I understand why we look at faces, that makes sense, but why nude? Well there are multiple reasons. First (and least important to me) is tradition. There is a long tradition predating even the Egyptians of recreating the human body. So, as a method of teaching art, there are lots of people who have done it before and so there are a lot of excellent techniques and examples for artistic training that have been developed which apply to other forms of art as well. Second, it is a test of skill. If one can make a believable representation of something that we are so familiar with, then everything else is a piece of cake. If I paint a chimpanzee you would be less critical of whether it looks real or not than a human face, simply because most of us don’t see chimps every day for our entire lives. Some artists get caught up in this challenge for perfection and are never satisfied with their degree of skill, (I know I never am) and so continue to pursue impossible perfection even though most people might not see the minute faults of the work which the artist does. –The next passage includes much of my opinion on the subject and is not intended to force my views on anyone, but merely to share another point of view.-
Third, (and most importantly to me) the nude, when I choose to paint it, is representative of something more than observation. My works are meant to evoke complex emotions or thoughts in the viewer, and are not meant to be decorative, though beauty is important to me. Since nudity is not often seen in normal everyday settings, it implies that there is something more to the interpretation. It makes the piece more intimate. For me, art is about conveying the complexity of life; its joy and its sorrow. If I paint a nude with a certain degree of sexuality implied, it is to communicate the dual nature of every human being. All of us, from the most pious, to the most base, from the greatest ideals of compassion and love, to fear and jealousy; we are all torn between what we are and what we wish to be. We all have some desire to do or see something greater than what is before us, and we all struggle with the desire for immediate pleasure. It is this tension between our animal and divine sides that I attempt to evoke; and in doing so, perhaps to help myself and others understand a little bit more about being human.

Deconstructing Deconstruction

Micheal Jackson and a monkey - "Jeff Koons"

What would you say if I told you that there was an insidious dark ideal infecting the art culture, the very belief structure of which is paradoxical. It is a faith of non-belief and it is merely being accepted, not challenged, as the only system of intellectual thought. All else is dismissed as "kitsch". And not surprisingly, this movement "appropriates" (bastardizes) all forms of "kitsch" for the purposes of pointing out its futility. The acolytes of this dogma tend, in the arts, to hide behind irony as a shield for a lack of quality, content, or emotive integrity. A prime example of such an "artist" is Jeff Koons (above), who passes off other people's "craft" as his own, and whose only discernible product is shock value. - "He says with a sardonic grin."

"To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation." - Yann Martel, The Life of Pi

What is this philosophy of doubt of which I speak? Why, it is nothing more than an abstract categorization called "Post-modernism": a single label within the structure of philosophical theory meant to categorize the idea of the negation of structure. (Sounds like a paradox, no?). One of the main premises of post-modern thought, and the one for which I have the most criticism is the idea that all experience, all life, everything is essentially meaningless. This stems from the deconstructive thought of Heidegger , Kierkegaard, and Derrida,
further complicated by the Schroedinger and the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.
However, I view uncertainty and probability as something separate from negation.

This absurdist philosophy or rather, nihilism, is a process and not a conclusion, just as deconstruction is a process and not a conclusion.

In the dialogue of painting one might see our contemporary era as a re-constructive era. Where the tenets of Derrida informed the deconstructive elements of post-modernism, the act of mimesis or the appropriation of “obsolete vernacular” is a sign of the discontents that our contemporary culture finds in the detritus of post-modern thought. Now we pick up the cogs and springs to reassemble them – to create order if only because we feel it is needed. We reclaim the mysterious origin of art – meaning. It’s interesting that we might confuse nostalgia with meaning, but does that make it any less potent, universal, or reflective of life? For that’s what art does… reflect life.

Obviously this a weighty topic which could not simply be condensed to one listing... So,
this diatribe will be continued in later postings, so hold tight and please feel free to let me know your responses etc...

New Painting

This new painting is too large to see the whole all at once while I'm working, so I had to improvise a longer paintbrush.

Advice to the Young Artist

About 40,000 years ago a caveman mixed some burned bone and saliva. He saw that he could make a mark on the stone of his cave wall with this. These marks became patterns and images of bison, hunters, and horses. He found that he could make an indelible impression upon the world around him and that his mark would last… beyond his lifetime, and his children’s lifetimes. For how long, I’m sure he didn’t know. But here we are today reflecting on the meaning of what some unknown man did 40,000 years ago. Such a simple thing as rubbing dirt and ash onto stone walls… and we wonder. We wonder because we know this has a meaning. Survival was difficult enough for him without wasting his time smearing mud onto a wall.

Later these pictures evolved into pictographs and the pictographs into alphabets… and the alphabets formed words, and the words became the Odyssey, and Hammurabi’s law, and Plato’s Republic, and Shakespeare, and the Constitution… and Harry Potter.

For me, art is meaning itself. It is communication; it is reaching out and connecting to someone else in the deepest way and finally knowing that we are not alone. Because of all these things, art is the foundation of civilization. Everything that man has ever built rests upon it. For me, it’s that big.

It means something… something a little different for each person. That’s why art isn’t just for the rich or the highly educated. It’s not some obscure language that no one can really understand. It is what it communicates to you. It’s around us everywhere, it’s within everyone. Making art is simply making something with passion, with every ounce of your soul.

Especially in the world today, we’re constantly inundated with voices… from the TV, magazines, radio, computer… from every direction saying everything there is to say. It’s hard to find your own voice amidst the static. Your particular way of expression that most fully communicates you. It’s a long journey of self discovery that, for the artist, never really ends. So I’d like to pass along a little advice, to clear out a little static so you can hear your own voice. Most of it is for those of you who would like to become artists, but I think it also applies to everyone who’s searching in life.

• Don’t worry about what is fashionable and popular. If you’re interested that’s fine, but don’t let it dictate your actions. Do what is interesting to you. Robert Henri, a great artist and teacher said in his book The Art Spirit

“For an artist to be interesting to us, he must have been interesting to himself. He must have been capable of intense feeling, and capable of profound contemplation. He who has contemplated has met with himself.”

If you do what is interesting to you, your work will speak to us. And if your work speaks it will become what is popular, it will become the thing that everyone talks about.

• Copy the work of the greatest artists that you love. You will learn more directly from them than anywhere else. And what you love about their work will sneak its way into yours. Copying is great for learning, especially if you can capture the spirit of the thing. But remember, that’s the goal, the spirit. Don’t try to borrow someone else’s language of art. By imitating Michelangelo you may become half of what he was, but then you will never become all of what you are.
• Whatever it is that you do. Whether you sculpt, or paint, or make sushi… do it a lot - every chance you get. If you do this all the time, you will either realize that you should be doing something else, or you will get much better at what you do. And if you happen to find that you should be doing something else, don’t despair, you’ve just learned something very important – don’t waste your time doing the first thing when you could be finding what you love and doing that to the best of your ability.
• To become a master at anything, you must first master what you already have. Only then can you truly add to your knowledge.
• Many people say that there is nothing new to say in art… that everything has been said. They’ve been saying this since ancient Greece… and just look at everything since then, that couldn’t be said.
• Don’t worry about originality; you couldn’t shake it if someone beat you with a stick. There has never been and never will be anyone exactly like you. Even twins who share DNA and grow up together end up being different. What ever you do will be distinctly yours. The question is how can you best use it?

I’ve got one final piece of advice before I answer any questions you might have.

• Get out there and talk to people about art. Go to museums, go to galleries, meet people, ask questions… the more people you talk to the more knowledge you’ll gain and you might also build some interesting and helpful friendships. Art is a business also, like anything else. You have to go out and see what’s happening in your field. You have to network. If you look at history, all the artists in the history books were talking to other artists who are now in the history books. They collaborated and pooled their resources and that’s why they’re in the history books. They saw each other as assets and not competition. In the long run, that’s what re really are. I may be 10 years older than most of you, I may be a teacher now, and you a student now. But 10 years from now that won’t matter. I’m still a student of life now, and I’ll still be a student in 10 years. It’s a long journey and the truth is we’re all contemporaries. We’re all fellow travelers through life, right now.

Hendrickje Stoffels

This is a copy I just finished at the Met. It is Hendrickje Stoffels by Rembrandt.
I love the psychological content in her eyes. The photo has a little glare in the top right. I'll have to update the photo.

Shadows of a Hand

This ink wash by Victor Hugo has never ceased to inspire me. Abstract poetry meets psychological realism in these works. I came across it in a book entitled Shadows of a Hand, which is a collection of the great writer's ink drawings. Delecroix once said that if Victor Hugo had been a painter instead of a writer, he would have been the greatest of the Romantic painters.

Hatching from a nameless gleam of light I see
Monstrous flowers and frightening roses
I feel that out of duty I write all these things
That seem, on the lurid, trembling parchment,
To issue sinisterly from the shadow of my hand.
Is it by chance, great senseless breath
Of the Prophets, that you perturb my thoughts?
So where am I being drawn in this nocturnal azure?
Is it sky I see? Am I in command?
Darkness, am I fleeing? Or am I in pursuit?
Everything gives way. At times I do not know if I am
The proud horseman or the fierce horse;
I have the scepter in my hand and the bit in my mouth.
Open up and let me pass, abysses, blue gulf,
Black gulf! Be silent, thunder! God, where are you leading me?
I am the will, but I am the delirium.
Oh, flight into the infinite! Vainly I sometimes say,
Like Jesus calling out “Lamma Sabacthani,”
Is the way still long? Is it finished,
Lord? Will you soon let me sleep?
The Spirit does what it will. I feel the gusting breath
That Elisha felt, that lifted him;
And in the night I hear someone commanding me to go!

VICTOR HUGO

There is only one other work in literature that I have yet come across, which so eloquently and accurately conveys the feeling and act of creation as this poem. Now, being somewhat of a romantic painter myself, I must admit my bias towards this somewhat (melo)dramatic view. But it is simply that I feel that art is about life in its simplicity and complexity; and a life without passion, without vision, without the emphatic would be a dreary life lived. Art, for me, should convey the crest and wake of life’s truly tempestuous nature. However, I digress.


As I’ve said, this passage describes quite perfectly the act of creation, and there is only one other work I know of which evokes the same degree of recognition. There is a collection of short stories entitled: Labyrinths, by Jorge Luis Borges. Among other stories of incredible beauty and depth, is one called: The Circular Ruins, in which the protagonist attempts to dream into existence the life of another man, but through the act of creation comes upon a revelation.


Both are interesting in their similarities: the references to Christ, which makes sense in context of the gospel of John. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…. In him was life; and the life was the light of men.” For the act of creation is a kind of memesis of the first act of creation. Whereby God divided the light from the darkness by means of the Word, or Logos (from Greek meaning literally word, but implying logic and order). So, according to John, the Word and God are one in the same; thus the act of Genesis was the imposition of order upon the chaos of the dark void. The act of creation is in some way a futile grasp at immortality (our nameless gleam amidst the void), for why does man commit image or thought onto a physical object such as paper, stone, or wood? It is the very hope that our creation might speak for us beyond our mortality, that we might carry on in some way, even if only as a memory, a phrase, or an image. This is the sad passion which drives us, for fear - not of death, but of oblivion.