"the only good way to clean the bones was to simmer them in a covered steam vat for the better part of the day, then scrub off the softened tissue with a toothbrush (not my own personal one, mind you)...Needless to say, [my wife] wasn't thrilled when she arrived home to the stench of cooking flesh and found a decaying human skull and femur simmering in her eight-quart kettle." (link)
No, it wasn't CSI that got me to nose around the field of forensics (though I was thrilled to learn of its exitence through a friend). From a love of the living body comes a curiosity for the dead, and a penchant for science leads to the need to pin down reality by measurement and classification. So drawing leads to anatomy and anatomy leads to forensics. And then you start roaming around life with X-ray eyes, enunciating insertion points and bony processes where once mere fleshy lumps used to lie.
2 comments:
I prefer to look at the drawings you make... Nevertheless, ars gratia artis, right?
Kiss,
Elle.
Ars Gratia Artis roars the MGM lion, but it might not get a leading role in here, simply because we really do no art around these parts. Just an itch on our scribbling fingers keeps us scratching away at the paper, relief through proxy though it may be.
Those artsy fartsy types? Those get left at the door while us scribblers gawk at the strippers all night long and end the proceedings with ink and charcoal under our nails and inside our nostrils and all over our best bad suit and a smile upon our devious lips...
Art? This is simply onanism.
Oh, and by the way...
did I say Hi, already? :)
Hi Elle,
haven't seen you in far too long.
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