Why do I paint nudes?
As long as I can remember, I’ve always become mesmerized or entranced by the things
that I look at. But looking at my own body, or a body, would capture my attention even
more so. I could look at the wrinkles and lines in the skin and wonder why does the skin
look like this? I would notice all the different colors of the flesh: blues, reds, yellows,
even different shades of gray. I remember always hating the “flesh” colored paint or
crayons when I used them because I knew “flesh doesn’t look like this.” I would look
at the way this part of the body would look when it was against that part. And how the
bones jutted in certain areas and the interesting shapes they made. My attention would
become so involved with the intricacies of my body that I would lose track of time, and
as I got older I would ask myself “how can I draw or paint this?”
People usually ask me “Why only women?” As I contemplate that question today, I realize
that I probably relate to the female form because of the familiarity of my own body.