The Figure

A while ago, I wrote a post that referred to the printing plant where I used to work. It included pictures of the type of machine that I had operated there, a flatbed cutter. The shots weren’t mine, however. An internet image search had resulted in some good examples and I had borrowed two. Among the photos that I considered, I got a big surprise. There were a few of a naked woman doing my old job. As an artist who has a complicated history with the nude, I was delighted to see the bare body’s owner going about her business. I couldn’t believe it. Tracing the images to the website where they had originated disappointed me, nonetheless. Although I never saw the model herself doing anything indecent, she appeared amid a barrage of hardcore pornography. A view of a woman without any clothes, I guess, automatically qualifies. I had found her refreshingly wholesome. I was wrong. It makes me want to abandon the figure altogether like the artist in my second novel, The Sketchbook. In the end, no people populated his work anymore: “What remained were scenes of empty streets and abandoned buildings. The series seemed to say that Caleb and the human race were done.”

Published by Colin Turner

I'm an artist, an author and, usually, the quietest guy in the room.

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