There’s a tension I’ve come to recognize in my work – a tension that became clearer to me after reading about Klimt.
Klimt challanged the old distinction between the “pure” nude and the “dangerous” body. He saw the hypocrisy in pretending that some nudes were “high” and others “low,” depending on the context or the myth behind them.
His approach resonated with me – maybe because, as a young religious person, even the most classical nudes were never neutral. They were provocative, no matter how noble the context of the nudity was.
In 2023, I made a small but profound shift. I moved away from the world of professional models — where things was more controlled and distant — and toward amateur models: real people, often moms, who modeled casually, using their phones at their homes, sometimes seductively.
The poses weren’t just aesthetic exercises anymore – they carried undertones of desire, invitation, even personal risk.
One reference photo could tell two entirely different stories depending on the energy behind it.
A professional might strike a pose, but it would be “clean” — a technical challenge for the artist.
But when an amateur mom would strike that same pose, it isn’t always “clean.” It could be personal, charged, more than just an image to draw – a communication, a provocation.
At first, I hid some of those new drawings of the amateur models. I felt ashamed. It felt like I was doing something wrong — stepping outside the respectable definition of “art.”
But that’s precisely where the real life energy was.
Drawing within the “safe zone” might protect one’s reputation.
But drawing beyond it touches something deeper — the messy, unfiltered truth of desire, of connection, of vulnerability.
And maybe that’s where the art really begins.
