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“To hear many religious people talk, one would think God created the torso, head, legs and arms, but the devil slapped on the genitals.� ~Don Schrader


The Art Of Man Volume 10 Autumn 2012 Editor E. Gibbons Art Historian Grady Harp Copy Editors Paul Rybarczyk Layout, Design, Production E. Gibbons Reader David Jarrett Design Consultants Dana Ranning, Paul Rybarczyk Publisher Firehouse Publishing ISBN-10: 0983862230 ISBN-13: 978-0-9838622-3-9

Information: The Art of Man is a quarterly journal founded in 2010,, owned by Subscriptions: Please visit for the most current pricing, store locations, and subscriptions of both current and back issues. For questions, please e-mail or call 609-298-3742. Price is subject to change without notification. Submissions: The Art of Man considers submissions of artists and gallery interviews. Contact, subject “AOM Submission,” for additional information. Advertising: For advertising rates, wholesale bulk pricing, and other information, Distribution: Online through our website For information e-mail Printing: Published quarterly in spring, summer, autumn, and winter by Firehouse Publishing, headquartered at 8 Walnut Street, Bordentown, NJ 08505.

© 2012 by Firehouse Publishing and Firehouse Gallery. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the express consent of Firehouse Publishing, Firehouse Gallery, and its owner, E. Gibbons. Right: Orquín, Saint Sebastien, oil canvas, 120 x 80 cm. (altered) Cover: Odom, Arrangement, pencil dye gouache, 8.5 x 11.25 in. Rear Cover: Reynolds, Male Torso, drawing on board, 32 x 22 in.





Serge Sovkov was born in 1972 in Siberia (the city of Kyshtym, the Chelyabinsk area), and studied at the university of Tolyatti city situated on the Volga River in Russia. This new city, a large industrial and economic center focusing on automobile production, was named in honor of the Italian leader, Palmiro Tolyatti. In 1997 Serge graduated from Fine Arts Faculty and became a professor there, and is now the chair of their graphics department. In 2003 he trained at Repin’s Art Institute in St.Petersburg, where he focused on the academic nude in pastels. Since 2006 Serge has been a member of the Creative Union of Artists in Russia. He is a participant of many city, regional, national, and international exhibitions. His works are in private collections in Russia, Italy, and Switzerland. Two of his artworks are in the Tolyatti city museum. Art of Man: Why is the male form a significant part of your work? Sovkov Serge: Man's nature. Probably not the absolute best answer. Man's nature is the focus of my creativity but as an artist, I am generally more interested in peoples' lives and relationships, especially those of youths in contemporary society. On one hand a young man’s life is interesting because of its unpredictability due to his inexperience. On the other hand it is slightly comic when contrasted with our adult generation.

Therefore images I create on canvas are sometimes angular, grotesque, ridiculous, and even vulgar. I have a desire to show—but not condemn—the world of youth within the limits of a modern city: their dreams, desires, and errors. My paintings are self criticisms over the problems we face on this planet. At the same time these are my memoirs and desires to relive my youth; go to night clubs, remember the hangover the morning after a party with friends, to return to the sensation of recklessness, and experience a carefree holiday. I have tragic images too. For example, the picture where the dying person is on a dirty mattress after a drug overdose, these images represent sad cases and shouldn't be forgotten either. They are like the exceptions to the rule. I have been fond of working from nature recently; this is another side of my creativity. The drawing of the nude is a prominent aspect of student’s training at the university. It is routine and boring sometimes. Many artists come back to it with reluctance. I graduated from the university 14 years ago and only recently have I rediscovered the charm of the nude. It is fascinating to have the opportunity to communicate with a model for three hours, to see him bare, to try to transfer not only color of his skin, but also his internal pressure, mood, and psychology onto the canvas. In general, I feel my pictures are more about thoughts and feelings than they are about technique.

Left: Sovkov, The Juvenility, oil on canvas, 70 x 60 in.


Above: Sovkov, By the Sea, oil on canvas, 70 x 100 in.

AOM: What is it that sets your work apart from other artists working with the male figure? S.S.: I paint big pictures. I use a technique of tracing the contour of each paint dab creating separate slices like a mosaic. It seems to me that it gives certain structure to the image like a stained-glass window or crystals. This also symbolizes a dissociation of people and society. This mode allows my work to be recognized easily. As the impressionists did, I try to catch the escaping light of the model’s skin and to transfer color nuances, freshness, and forms of the moment. I hope to catch the imperceptible vibration of time and create an effective and pleasing composition.

Right: Sovkov, Studios No.35, oil on canvas, 80 x 40 in.

AOM: Is there anything unique about working with the male figure as a subject? S.S.: The model’s sex doesn’t matter at all because problems are identical. It’s all about color, and shape, and time. There is no eroticism when I am drawing men. It’s purely an esthetic pleasure. Men aren’t used to being the object of admiration and that introduces a special psychological mood into a session. Narcissism has a place among men but it happens seldom (at least, in my practice). However, from time to time, some dare to ask why only men are nude in my works. I think their question is more likely as a sign of personal curiosity rather than a desire to understand my creative impulses. Such people want to glance into the artist’s bedroom, rather than to understand his search for beauty and perfection.



AOM: Do you see a change in the acceptance of the male figure as subject? S.S.: I think nothing has changed in the last decades, at least in our country. Even if a female artist represents a nude man it causes colleagues to silently whisper doubts about her ethics. AOM: What is it like working with new models? S.S.: Every time a new model comes, it is amusing to observe as he worries and hesitates—and tries to hide “it!” They attempt to size up my work and their reactions are interesting. They sometimes try to encourage me and point out my errors as I work and this makes me smile. The general mood of awkwardness usually happens only at the beginning of the session, but when you start to mix paint on a palette, and to fight with proportions and color relations, you forget that a live person is in front of you. It is already an artistic image, a reflection of my thoughts and experiences, instead of an anxious naked person. There was a one case I remember when I felt awkward. I invited a model to my workshop—I liked the form of his head and his unique face. I wanted to draw his portrait. I turned away and prepared for our simple session; squeezed out paints on a palette, chose brushes and thought of how to arrange his head—3/4 to the right or 3/4 to the left. Suddenly and unexpectedly he stripped behind my back very quickly. When I turned back to him he was beaming, flexing muscles, and ready to accept a difficult pose. His face shone pride and self assurance, and his eyes expectantly looked at me with slyness. It surprised and shocked me, but that occurred a long time ago. I would say that now it is difficult to surprise me with anything. I feel like a doctor examining patients.

AOM: Have you always worked in this style? S.S.: My teachers in painting always told me that the main sign of a person who has truly established himself as an artist is settled in their methods and have one peculiar individual style. I think it is necessary to always search for your own creative “I,” to improve constantly, and not to be afraid to experiment. I have used “mosaic” and “stained-glass window” style relatively recently, but it does not always correspond to the idea of a picture, therefore I am still in the course of searching for a new means of expressiveness. Perhaps, there is something deliberate and artificial in this style; etudes of a naked model seem to me more live, natural, and poetic. I try to visually balance the people, conflicts, friendships, and love. My goal is a more perfect expression of thoughts and feelings in my technique, and explorations of color. I seek a brighter means of composition, vivid color combinations, and new techniques. AOM: Without burning any bridges can you share a best or worst experience in a gallery or with a client? S.S.: I work with only one gallery now. This gallery is "N-prospectus" in St. Petersburg. In 2009 my personal exhibition took place at in this gallery and it had been very successful. My 53 works were represented there. Almost all pictures were sold by the gallery which also published an album of that exhibition. As for an unpleasant occasion in my artist’s life, one of my pictures was robbed from an art salon in Tolyatti. I was compensated for the loss however. Though theft is always a bad thing, I thought of it as an indirect recognition of my work’s value.


Upper Right: Sovkov, Olginsky Bay, oil on canvas, 80 x 100 in.

Lower Right: Sovkov, Jump, oil on canvas, 60 x 110 in.


Sovkov, Above Us The Sky, oil on canvas, 136 x 156 in.

AOM: Have you ever been brought to tears in front of a work of art? S.S.: With a special trembling I remember a picture by the Russian artist-symbolist Michael Vrubel, The Demon Sitting. Every time I see it in the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow I experience deep feelings. I had tears of joy in the Sistine Chapel of Rome. That masterpiece amazed me to depth of my soul. If there were not a great number of tourists there, I would probably have cried.

Michael Vrubel, The Demon Sitting


AOM: Do you collect art? If so, what do you collect? S.S.: I collect porcelain figurines but without any special enthusiasm. From time to time I buy them but they are often given to me by my friends. There is a joke among my female friends that “I have only one love in my life—seamen”. I collect porcelain figurines of seamen. They are naive and expressive. AOM: If you could wave a magic wand and anyone in the world would appear to be your next male model, who would that dream model be? S.S.: I am afraid of being banal, but I would draw Tom Cruise, the American actor. I like his look. Though, probably, I wouldn't be able to work because of the excitement. I don’t know how artists painted tsars and kings in their dazzling greatness. AOM: What are your hopes for the future? S.S.: Well, I dream of travelling and painting people in different countries, with different skin colors, and in different light settings. It would be nice to do it somewhere in Bangkok or Nairobi; to rent a studio and to work there.

Sovkov, Street Peace, oil on canvas, 100 x 70 in.

AOM: Any parting advice for artists? S.S.: First of all, I would like to advise artists to trust their heart and perception. It is necessary to paint what inspires you and what touches your soul deeply. You should work constantly and seek to improve. Paint in natural surroundings. You should paint pictures not for the sake of sale, but for the sake of your own pleasure. Every painting will be a success. Somehow though, you need to balance this with the need to earn a living.

You can find out more about Mr. Sovkov at: The artist can be contacted via email: Sovkov, Anarchist Jump, oil on canvas, 100 x 80 in. (left panel of triptych)





WADE REYNOLDS A Remembrance, An Appreciation By Grady Harp ... the artist appeals to that part of our being which is not dependant on wisdom; to that in us which is a gift and not an acquisition—and, therefore, more permanently enduring. He speaks to our capacity for delight and wonder, to the sense of mystery surrounding our lives: to our sense of pity, and beauty, and pain. ~JOSEPH CONRAD 1898 In the pantheon of memorable figurative artists whose courage extended into the realm of painting the nude male model, the name of Wade Reynolds will always remain honored. His death in October 2011 leaves a mark on his many admirers and collectors, but because of his selfless honesty in his paintings and drawings his work will likely grow in importance as the public becomes more aware, more appreciative of the male figure in art. Charles Elwood Reynolds was born in Jasper, New York in 1929, an only child, with an active fantasy life, an analytical appreciation of nature, science, math, and a perceptual creativity. Drawing recognizable images by the age of three and filling blackboards with colored chalk renderings of people and places by the age of six, he was encouraged in his innate artistic Left: Reynolds, Male Torso, prismacolor on board, 30 x 22in. 1971

ability by winning awards such as the one he received from the Arnot Museum in Elmira, New York in 1943, and the Scholastic Arts Contest for Western New York State in 1946. Yet being pragmatic in those times, he desired a career in electronics, so he joined the Navy hoping for experience in that scientific field as well as assurance of funding for his after-military schooling. Once in New York City, he was drawn to the theater both as an actor and as a stage designer and changed his name to Wade Reynolds. Encouraged by his success in creating paintings for the original sets for Joshua Logan and David Merrick’s Broadway production of The World of Susie Wong, Wade Reynolds began painting in earnest. Entirely a self taught painter, his works were immediately popular in galleries in a time when traditional figurative painting was overpowered by Abstraction and Abstract Expressionism. Longing for the frontiers of open space, places of promise, where one can be ‘gloriously alone, but not lonely,’ Wade moved to California, settling in San Francisco, and found a plethora of available models among the disenfranchised, lonely, troubled youth of the lost generation of the 60s. As with all young painters, comparisons are expected and Wade’s most frequently referenced colleague was Andrew Wyeth, a painter who was also creating paintings without backgrounds and, like Wade, was harkening back to roots in isolated Americana (Wyeth from Pennsylvania and Maine, Reynolds from Upstate New York).


Reynolds, The Cyclist, oil on canvas, 48 X 60 in. 1993

In 1967 he was honored in a solo exhibition at the San Francisco Palace of the Legion of Honor and for this major exhibition he gained the courage to break the comparison to Wyeth: he painted richly detailed paintings that incorporated backgrounds as important adjuncts to the figures. His style was established. Just what that style is, is a conundrum. Wade Reynolds was a Realist but his works also incorporated the Impressionists’ vocabulary.

In technical terms his unique manner of painting is most related to Pointillism, a means by which the physical nature of color and the chromatic structure of light can be defined on a flat, painted surface. Developed in the late 1880s by Georges Seurat and Paul Signac, Pointillism is in many ways the application of science to art and is based on the research into color and light by such minds as Chevral, von Helmholz, and Rood. This approach to painting demands facility with both brush and palette and while its execution is inordinately time consuming, the ultimate final effect is a glimmering


Reynolds, Equipale Chair, oil on canvas, 36 x 42 in. 2000.

which hovers over the surface without the usual need for layering of glazes to achieve this semblance of magic. In Reynolds’ hands, after the initial drawing on the prepared canvas, he began painting by placing layer upon layer of drybrush, alternating warm tones with cool tones until the final result was a luminous description of his subject, whether figure or object or landscape. Wade Reynolds was a quiet man and an observer of such honesty that he avoided flowery, poetic interpretations or even pompous titles for his works:

he seemed to fight poetry while he created it. In selecting subject matter or models he was always able to find the subtleties that he intuitively found in the reaction between surfaces and shapes with light. He had little tolerance for the bogus, never pushing his compositions toward titillation. He simply, quietly, painted what he observed. At times his figures seem to be within their own world where he is the silent visitor; models seem to have an interior at work while their exterior is being painted and this brings the model to life.


Reynolds, Mirror Image, a self portrait, oil on canvas, 36 x 42 in, 1995

Skin tones are galaxies of colors that merge and diverge as light sources mold them. While figures are most often a part of his work, light and composition are the most important unifying elements. At times he isolated the figure in space as though leaving out the expected atmosphere or locale would hamper the viewer’s ability to see the corpus as an isolated object of beauty. His paintings were always about truth and what is there. He appeared to enjoy the

play of geometric problems in battle—stools on checkerboard floors allow the included model to be an incidental yet equal element in the total composition. Reynolds pushed the envelope of his powers of sculpting light and form with one of his final series of paintings where he had approached the nude male figure as landscape and as still life.


In the Figures as Landscape (see Figures as Landscape 1, 6 and 10) there is no reliance on a physical support system, though it seems obvious that the models are reclining on a surface. Reynolds used his learned skills of stage design and lighting techniques to bathe the model in light and shadow until the focus of the composition is not about the individual model (the face is always averted) but simply the eloquent movement of light and color over the contours of the naked body. The series Figure as Still Life (see Figure as Still Life 2, Figure as Still Life 3, Equipale Chair, The Athlete) makes the model an integral but equal part of each composition with chair, stool, light and shadows treated with identical importance. In his widely collected Portraits, whether prismacolor drawings (see Male Torso-Oval, Rory 1 and Male Torso, spanning 30 years of work) where line alone defines volumetric space, or his vibrant paintings (see Mirror Image, a self portrait), Reynolds prepared each composition with the finesse of a stage director, testing light, composition, color, sketches and the input of the model before committing to the final concept. Maintaining his painting technique described above he strove to recreate what he observed and the result is an unfettered rendering of the model. The likeness is uncanny because it has not been manipulated by superimposed emotional stigmata. The life of the model radiates from within, not simply as applied to the surface of the painting. And though he insisted on declaring his commitment to the purity of ‘science’ in his approach to the canvas, the people who come to life with his brush are of fully warm flesh and blood. All the scientific dissection in the world at times blocks our individuality of response: the visceral response is more important than the cerebral in the arts. ‘It is so difficult to do anything well in this mysterious world’ (Annie Adams Fields diary after reading Henry James). Wade’s paintings are just revealing enough to make people feel familiar without stripping them of their mystery.

Reynolds, Figure as Still Life 2, oil on canvas, 40 x 30 in. 2002

Reynolds, Racquetball Player, oil on canvas, 24 x 36 in. 2001

They make you feel as though you have met someone you want to know and who wants to know you. And throughout his constant career Wade Reynolds maintained the brave stance of fearlessly painting nudity during art eras when artists have been under constant attack by public and critics alike who hold a strange fear or intimidation of frontal nudity.


Reynolds, The Athlete, oil on canvas, 30 x 36, 2001

Reynolds’ nudes are never sensationalized: he painted the nude as if in a return to Eden. Whether seated, standing, reclining, part of an interior or isolated from surrounding elements, his nudes are celebrations of humanity (see The Cyclist and The Racquetball Player). Observing the male nude with the sensitivity and respect with which he rendered them, Reynolds achieved the dignity of the works from the Renaissance.

In Rachel Carson’s words—It is not half so important to know as to feel. If facts are the seeds that later produce knowledge and wisdom, then the emotions and the impressions of the senses are the fertile soil in which the seeds grow. Pausing before one of his still lifes (see Tulips) may conjure th references to the masters of the medium from 17 th century Willem Kalf to late 19 century John Frederick Peto.


Reynolds, Tulips, oil on canvas, 36 x 40, 2006

Yet while the craftsmanship of execution is comparable, Reynolds’ unique sense of stillness and clarity opens windows of memory for the viewer. Avoiding the traditional allusions or symbols, he allowed familiar objects, arranged with care and with sensitive lighting, to simply be appreciated for what they are–frozen moments of time, of beauty.

Reynolds, Rory 1, prismacolor on toned board, 32 x 40, 2001

Reynolds, Figure as Still Life 3, oil on canvas, 30 x 40 in, 2002

The art of Wade Reynolds brings home evidence of a life of commitment to art, allegiance to the simple truth and honesty that reside not only in nature but also in each of us, his public. His art is indubitably and inimitably his own, able to stand with the finest work being created today. Wade Reynolds was unique, in his art, his stature, and in his vision. And he will be always remembered. “He to whom Nature begins to reveal her open secret will feel irresistible yearning for her most worthy interpreter, Art.” ~Goethe Reynolds, Figure as Landscape 6, oil on canvas, 30 x 40 in. 2003

(More of Wade’s mages are in the directory)



Gonzalo Orquín was born in a little village close to Sevilla in a very traditionalist family. He did not receive an artistic education apart from his mother’s strong interest in classical music and literature, and from the beautiful paintings and objects surrounding him (among those an entire nunnery bought by his grand-dad in 1936 during the civil war). When he was very little he started by copying oils, temperas, crayons, and everything he found around him indoors, and in the famous catalogues of Tiziano, Murillo, and Velázquez. At the death of his father— Gonzalo was 10 years old—he was sent out of town and enrolled in a conservatory to learn the piano.

Art of Man: Why do you feature the male figure? Gonzalo Orquín: I am a realistic painter. In my opinion Realism is all my eye is attracted to and sees. The human figure is what strikes me most and I frequently paint men—as a human being. I am interested in man on a philosophical level. This is key to my art. It might be a preference for male figures but it is not planned. I think a good artist should be able to create with, and represent both men and women like Picasso!

Fortunately he met many teachers interested in his abilities who encouraged him to begin painting and get a good education. Thanks to these people he made his first solo exhibition when he was just 16 years old.

AOM: What sets your work apart from others? G.O.: I think that painting a nude figure is a difficult matter unless you do not want to create something purely erotic or pornographic. I play on the border between dreams and reality. If one looks at my models it is clear they are not aware of their nudity and of being watched. They are there, maybe in their thoughts, or caught up from their dreams.

At the age of 18 he began the University of Arts in Sevilla, but it was not a good experience because of numerous fights and quarrels with his teachers. In 2004 he won a scholarship in Italy where, astonished and overcome by the beauty of the country, he decided to stay, leaving his studies in Spain incomplete.

AOM: Have you encountered any issues about having the male figure in your work? G.O.: No I have not. I have always painted what I wanted to, and my collectors belong to many socioeconomic levels. It is amazing to see, in the hall of a middle class family, a painting of mine showing a boy with his willy out…

Orquín, La Coperta Bianca, oil on canvas, 120 x 100 cm.


Orquín, Nu à la Fenêtre, oil on canvas, 100 x 120 cm.

AOM: Are you optimistic for the future of the male figure in art and your own work? G.O.: I am not optimistic; the critics and trends in art do not make me confident. Traditional painting just does not exist anymore. Rome has recently opened the XXI Century Art Museum, where there are no traditional works of art, especially figurative ones!

Painting is dying and painters are considered mere artisans or people out of fashion. Nevertheless my hope never fades and I dream of a big personal exhibition at the Grand Palais. That would be very welcome!


Orquín, Scena di Riposo Pomeridiano, oil on canvas, 100 x 150 cm.

AOM: Do you feel there is a change in the acceptance of the male figure as a subject? G.O.: The male nude has always been accepted and represented since the time of the ancient Greeks. Christianity has then changed heroes into saints, and martyrdom has provided themes and impetus to represent naked men (think of Saint Sebastian). From the Renaissance onwards, the figure of the naked man is well represented in the history of Western painting. Consider iconic images in the Sistine Chapel or the David from Michelangelo. There is less male figurative work since the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century, but the reason is complicated because of the changing images and the loss of realism in art. This marks the first time that painting was dealing only with itself—the act of painting.

AOM: Do you have any experiences related to exhibiting your male figures that has surprised you? G.O.: In 2008 I was contacted by a gallery in Berlin for an exhibition on the “Naked Man” and I sent a painting of mine. I did not go to the exhibition but when I received the catalogue I was surprised to find so many pornographic subjects, graphic pictures which did not share anything with my paintings! I have nothing against pornography but I just think it is a different kind of expression and not necessarily an artistic one. AOM: We have heard this time and time again, and it is a reason that The Art of Man was created: to give a venue to those of us who focus on the classical male figure in fine art.


Above: Orquín, Icaro, oil on canvas, 120 x 100 cm.

Right: Orquín, Saint Sebastien, oil on canvas, 120 x 80 cm.



AOM: Have you always worked in this style? G.O.: I have always worked in the mode of realism. I have also studied the great masters of the Twentieth Century and abstraction. Privately I have also experimented with abstract painting but it is not my language—at least not now. Nevertheless there is always research in materials to do and results to assess. This is evident when comparing what I did ten years ago to what I do now. AOM: Is there anything people may not know about your work you can share with us? G.O.: I think that people who know how to “read” a painting and know the history of art might find the unusual clues I have left in my work! AOM: Tell us about your first exhibition. G.O.: It was in Sevilla and I was 16. They organized an exhibition for the 400th anniversary of the birth of Velázquez. It was my first public exhibition. The first time many people saw and expressed respect for my paintings. I sold them all! After that exhibition, someone came and commissioned many paintings for one of the halls in the new “Museum of Tauromachy”. It was quite an odd experience for a youngster of 16. All at once I could rely on canvas and materials of high quality and have some money too. I could afford my first journey to Rome. AOM: When did you know you wanted to be an artist? G.O.: I have always kept a pencil in my hand as far as I remember. I have never doubted I was to be an artist, not even my family doubted it. AOM: Do you have a secret talent? G.O.: After tasting my “paella” my mother once said I could open a restaurant.

AOM: Are there any works of art that have a strong influence over who you are as an artist? G.O.: I remember when I went to Madrid for the first time and my parents took me to the Prado Museum. It was a breath-taking experience. I found myself before a sea of paintings, almost all known to me from catalogues, but I was standing in front of them, in real life, and I could almost touch them. I saw Las Meninas and I was surprised. It was completely different from what I had seen in the pictures—a unique thing in its physicality and presence. It is hard to explain. That very canvas was the one Velázquez had handled before it was born, meaning it was blank first and then—created by him—amazing! I felt a strong emotional response when I first went to visit Giotto’s frescos in San Francesco’s abbey as well. It hit me on a spiritual level. I think Giotto was really inspired from above. Those frescos spoke to me. Admiring them in silence is like praying. I use to go and see them over and over again. AOM: If you could have lunch or meet with any artist, living or dead, who would it be? G.O.: I do not know, it is really a hard question! There are too many people I admire. The list is never-ending. Spending a night with Mozart would be fun! In contrast though, even though I love Picasso’s paintings, I don’t think it would be worth meeting him. They say he was unbearable. AOM: What subject is the hardest for you as an artist to capture? G.O.: Children and adolescents are very hard to be portrayed. They have very special proportions. Their skin is different, their movements and expressions are as well. Many portraits of children look like monsters or horrible dwarfs.


AOM: Who would be your inspirations as an artist? G.O.: My first love was Velázquez and there is no doubt I keep something from him in my heart. Then Picasso, Giotto, Piero della Francesca, and Balthus, are sources I consult every day. Movie makers such as Visconti, Billy Wilder, and Kubrick as well as writers like Maupassant and Balzac have all had a strong influence on my work… Not to mention Beethoven, Schubert, or Händel! AOM: If you could own any painting in the world and price was not an issue, what would you choose? G.O.: I would like to have many works of art. Maybe the one I have always imagined to have for myself is The Deposition by Rogier Van der Weyden. AOM: Can you tell us a bit about your approach? G.O.: Besides being a painter I am an artisan. I have always plunged into the research and knowledge of my materials. It is fundamental. How can you paint on an industrial canvas prepared by somebody else? How can you know its reaction with colors? And time? A painting begins from the stretchers and choosing the cloth. Then you have to welcome the paint to it. Everything has to clear in the mind, that’s why the canvas is prepared with an aim. This first leads to the next. It takes a long time in order to control all the procedures from start to end. I use almost only oil.

Orquín, Sin Titulo, oil on canvas, 50 x 40 cm.

AOM: Where can our readers go to find out more about your work? G.O.: My site is but paintings are three dimensional objects so they can really only be appreciated when you stand in front of them. Orquín, Portrait, oil on canvas, 120 x 100 cm.



Cover image, by Daniel Barkley Blue In My Eye



Art of Man: James, can you tell us a bit about your artistic background? James Messana: Although I was always interested in art, things started for me when I was eighteen years old. I became a student at the University of Detroit, Architecture department. But in order to satisfy my interest in art, I also began sculpture classes with Frank Varga, internationally known Hungarian sculptor, who surprisingly had a studio not far from my home. I received my degree in architecture, and went on to become an apprentice to the sculptor. For a time I worked for architects in the design department, but decided to give all of my effort to sculpture. A defining moment for me came when I spent a summer in Europe, while still in school studying the art. I returned from that trip a different person. I am not going to short change my architecture education, how much it has influenced my thinking, particularly in the way things work together: materials, forces, structure, to name a few. I would describe my sculpture as figurative, clean or simplified, at times dealing with social issues, humor, or things that happen along the way in one's life experience. Materials—I have worked in clay, carved marble, wood, and am currently working with cold cast bronze which is bronze powder mixed with epoxy resin.

Left: Messana, Oops!, cold cast bronze, 13 in. H.

AOM: What makes your approach unique? J.M.: I like to think of my sculpture as something more than just an appealing form but one that encourages a viewer to think about things. Sometimes I will do a sculpture about social issues, like the war in Iraq. For example, my sculpture Sacrifice shows a father, looking upward for answers, holding his dead child. My intent here is to show who the true victims are in war, the innocent. AOM: Have you encountered any issues about having the male figure in your work? J.M.: Only that people presume things when they see I do mostly figures of the male in my artwork. I do not want to give the impression that I do not like women. The female body is just as beautiful as the male. I am a male. I understand, for the most part, who men are. I do sculpture of women. They represent different things than what my male figures say. The women, in my case, are calm, quiet, and resolute. They are to represent a striking contrast to men—the other side of the coin, if you will, but still with the need of self discovery. AOM: How do people react to your male figure? J.M.: What I have noticed about people looking at the male figure is that there seems to be more tension in the viewer, like it is okay for a woman to be naked, but not a man. I think the genitals seem to be more threatening because they are in your face, so to speak. In Europe, the attitudes are more relaxed.


Messana, Wrestlers, cold cast bronze, 13 in. H.

AOM: Has your work always been figurative? J.M.: No. I needed a break from the figure and did non-figurative junk sculpture for a while. Junk sculpture is found objects (metal, in my case) brought together in a new composition. It was fun for a while. AOM: Tell me something people might not know about your work or you? J.M.: Sometimes people will ask me who modeled for my sculpture. I have only done one sculpture

from a live model. The rest are from my imagination. But I do put myself into poses just to see if everything is physically possible to do. It is not a pleasant sight so I keep the subject rather quiet. AOM: Have you ever experienced difficulty with a client or gallery? J.M.: Would I be telling tales out of school if I said some the clients I have the most difficulty collecting money from are the ones who have the trappings of wealth?


AOM: How do you feel your work is evolving? J.M.: This is difficult to say, because whatever has evolved in my work has done so unconsciously— without realizing it, I find myself moving in another direction. Basically, I just let things happen. But sometimes I am forced to go another route. For example, I did wood carving for ten years. Towards the end of that period I noticed wood was becoming lighter, more stringy. Texture and solidity had changed. It could have been the results of environmental issues. So I moved on to a different medium. AOM: Where did you find that one model? J.M.: I only use models for life drawing, which is one of my passions. As I mentioned before, I have only done one sculpture using a model. The story is: I hired a landscape company, sight unseen, to cut my lawn. This young man showed up at the door. He was so beautiful I had to get him to pose for me. It did not take much convincing. He also posed for many drawings. Years later we are still friends.

Messana, Captive, cold cast bronze, 35 in. H.

AOM: Tell us about your very first exhibition. J.M.: I had my first exhibition in Chicago. I was part of a group show on religious art. It turned out to be an exciting event with television appearances, newspaper coverage, and the like. But I received my first wakeup call: in spite of all the hoop-la, it did not translate into sales. AOM: Do you remember your first sale? J.M.: My first sale was to an architect that I worked for when I was just out of high school. It was not an original idea, but a copy of one of my teacher's sculptures (with his permission, of course). Nevertheless, I was proud of my craftsmanship, and the architect loved it. Messana, Beach Boy, cold cast bronze, 13 in. H.



AOM: Can you share a best or worst experience in a gallery or exhibition? J.M.: I was to participate in an exhibition at a university the theme of which was the aftermath of sexual abuse. I had one sculpture to be on display the topic of it being priestly pedophilia. I was not able to attend the opening. I knew the dates of the showing. A few days into the exhibit I received a telephone call from one of the school staff members that the show was canceled and I had better come quick and retrieve my work. When I arrived at the room where the exhibit was being held, all the artwork submitted was on the floor against the wall and students were sitting around the area having lunch and studying. I was mortified. Thousands of dollars worth of art on the floor of basically a lunchroom. It was a total lack of respect on the part of the organizers of the show that shocked me. Fortunately, I did collect my work unharmed. AOM: Have you ever been moved by a work of art? J.M.: Where do I start with this one. There are many that I love, but the big question in my mind always is—how did they do it? Specifically, The Deposition by Rogier van der Weyden (1400-1464). The expressions, the suffering, composition, colors, technique all are astonishing. AOM: Gonzalo Orquín mentions the same work too!

Above: The Deposition by Rogier van der Weyden Left: Messana, Sacrifice, cold cast bronze, 14 in. H.

James Messana, sculptor with Captive

Messana, Java, cold cast bronze, 14 in. H.


Messana, A Slave to His Desires, cold cast bronze, 15 in. W.

AOM: What subject is the most challenging for you as a sculptor to capture? J.M.: Youth. There is a mystery about childhood that is very difficult to capture. It can end up looking like a shell of a person and not an experience. AOM: Do you collect art? If so, what do you collect? J.M.: I have in my art collection sculpture (other artists), painting, pottery, glass, weaving, photography, and folk art from around the world.

My favorite piece, though, is a painting by Tony de Carlo called The Re-creation of What Went Wrong. It is very colorful and depicts in simple forms an auto accident that happened to the artist. His portrait is the central feature surrounded by scenes of the mishap. It is like a dream interpretation of the event. Very cool. AOM: That’s excellent; we have featured Tony de Carlo in Edition 2 of The Art of Man. His work is on the cover in fact. He does some fantastic work.


Messana, I Am Knot, cold cast bronze, 11 in. H.

Messana, Hung Over, cold cast bronze, 12 in. H.

AOM: You have been sculpting for a long time, what advice would you give to younger artists? J.M.: I had a lot of naysayers when I started out, but they were outnumbered by the people who appreciated what I did. I would say, believe in yourself, do not cave in, even when times are bad. Yet be realistic. Can you do this? AOM: If you could wave a magic wand and anyone in the world would appear to be your next male model, who would that dream model be? J.M.: That would be Tim Tebow, the football player. Not only is he beautiful, but his strength of character and charisma are quite remarkable. Unfortunately, his strong religious beliefs probably mean he is highly opinionated, unyielding in his beliefs and close minded. But as long as he keeps quiet, it could work.

Find out more about James or

Messana, Draw, cold cast bronze, 22 in. H.



Art of Man: Mel, your work is so iconic but people know little about you as a person. Can you share a bit about your development with our readers? Mel Odom: I grew up in a very small Southern town and had private drawing lessons from the time I was about 7 into my high school years. My focus in those early years was usually female images, mermaids, fairies, stuff like that. One of my earliest drawings is a gowned woman making her nightclub debut, and I did a killer portrait of model Suzy Parker when I was 10. By the time I was in high school, these images included portraits of celebrities: the Beatles, Barbra Streisand, anyone I thought was cute. There were also the beginnings of an awareness of the male form with lots of anatomy drawings of the male nude. These weren’t entirely academic images for me, but an expression of a growing sexual maturity. It wasn’t until I was in college at Virginia Commonwealth University that I had the freedom to do much with the male image. We drew from the nude in class and it was expected that we draw men. I did some very beautiful portraits of men at this time and discovered an unusual affinity for male portraiture that embraces many of the same elements as the drawings of women had before.

Left: Odom, Yakuza Pistol, pencil, dyes, and gouache on illustration board, 7 x 9-3/8 in.

My drawings of men were sensual in a way that usually was reserved only for women. Again, this probably reflected the discovery of myself taking place at the same time. AOM: When did you begin illustrating the male figure? M.O.: I started doing drawings for Blueboy in the late 70s. I was given some terrific and not so terrific pieces of writing to illustrate. They all had one thing in common and that was to do with a sensual depiction of a male face or figure. I just rose to the occasion. I was thrilled to be doing these romantic, sensual drawings of beautiful men. It was better than Suzy Parker. Clearly, you can’t depict the human race and not do portraits of men, it’s just how you do them that’s the difference. AOM: How would you describe your technique? M.O.: My pencil, dyes, and gouache illustrations, the ones in color, are very ‘perfect’ in their style. I only include things that enhance and accentuate the beauty of the figure. Most of these are portraits, so it’s about making the face as compelling as possible, giving something to the eyes that makes you question what the person is going through. This is done in lead pencil over Peerless dyes with backgrounds—usually of colored gouache. It’s a manically tedious technique, and I’ve cursed myself a few times for developing it.



Odom, Beasts, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 4-1/4 x 5-1/4 in.

Odom, Bound Eyes, pencil, dyes, gouache, 5-1/2 x 6 in.

AOM: You are known for both your male and female imagery, but have you encountered any problems with your male imagery specifically? M.O.: Not really, they’ve always been some of my strongest drawings so people are impressed enough by the drawings to accept the eroticism without being openly offended. AOM: Do you see any changes in the acceptance of the male figure in art? M.O.: I think the male figure has always been a dominant subject in art. Early paintings of Biblical imagery are filled with beautiful male nudes, as well as ancient sculpture. I think America has a real problem with anything sensual regarding a male

Left: Odom, Nocturnes for the King of Naples, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 5-1/2 x 8-1/8 in.

nude. The Pilgrims still have us by the throat, at least until fairly recently. Now the media is filled with beautiful sensuous images of male models and actors, Calvin Klien saw to that years ago. It’s one of the reasons I don’t feel compelled to create them myself these days. It’s become so common. When I started drawing them in the 1970s there were none out there like mine, that sexy I guess. AOM: Who would be your inspiration as an artist? M.O.: Aubrey Bearsley was my first conscious influence. I saw his work in a Life magazine fashion spread of b/w fashions, when I was in my teens. The models were photographed against huge blowups of his work, and I was knocked out by the beauty and style of his pen and ink drawings. I got every book on him I could find (not that many in Ahoskie NC) and mimicked his style for a while. Eventually I absorbed it enough that I had my own line, but a bit of his sensibility, a subtle need to shock.


Odom, Charleston, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 6 x 7-1/2 in.


Odom, Crown of Wings, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 8-1/2 x 11-1/8 in.

Odom, Al Parker – Jesus, pencil on vellum, 11 x 14 in. (cropped)

AOM: What was your first solo publication? M.O.: My book First Eyes came out in 1982 in Japan. The publishers just came to me from Japan and asked if they could do a magazine issue on me, then that turned into a book. I was thrilled of course; I couldn’t get arrested in this country as far as a book was concerned. Then two years after that a re-edited and redesigned American book, Dreamer came out. They were both great for me. AOM: It sounds like you have had some great experiences, any negative ones? M.O.: The worst is having art stolen, that’s the most painful thing. I’ve had that happen through both publishing and galleries. It’s a depressing hazard of these worlds.

AOM: Do you recall when you first wanted to be an artist? M.O.: I’ve always seen myself as an artist, since childhood. It was the one thing I was good at. It wasn’t going to be sports, and it wasn’t going to be the business world. When I’m good at something I’m sometimes great at it, but when I’m not I’m hopeless. AOM: When did you feel like you were a success? M.O.: When I could start paying the bills with it. My Time magazine cover was a turning point for me, plus my regular gig with Playboy. It’s all small steps and I never feel like the success I would like to be.


Odom, Colmar, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 11 x 15-1/4 in.


Odom, Heart Attack, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 5-7/8 x 6-1/4 in.

AOM: How do you feel about your artist fans? M.O.: Oh it’s great. It’s a reason to want to move to NYC and have this kind of life. You have to do it for yourself ultimately, the work I mean. It’s too hard to do otherwise. Also, when I try to please others before myself in the work, it always just sits there,

with no magic. The gravy comes when people love what it is you WANT to do and you have enough success to get published or a good gallery. I’ve never had luck with galleries. I would love to, it’s just never happened. I’m better with publishing. I guess it’s just a world I know.



AOM: You have done quite a few celebrity portraits, are there any that stand out for you? M.O.: I did a beautiful pencil sketch of Stanley Tucci when we were friends and neighbors. He’s one of the most attractive men I’ve ever been around and you could just tell he was going to be a success. He posed for me in a white string tee shirt and I did a great sketch, one that he told me last week he still has. He has a great profile. I also did a killer portrait of Annie Lennox one summer when she was in NYC working with an Upper West Side vocal coach. She’s AMAZINGLY inventive in front of a camera, endless ideas. I did Polaroids and drew from those. She’s such a beauty and was very blond at the time, but even so, she could disappear in a crowd if she wanted to. AOM: Any secret talents beyond the studio? M.O.: I’m a great bartender!

Odom, Yakuza, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 10 x 11-1/4 in.

AOM: Do you collect art? M.O.: I do collect art. I have paintings and drawings from friends and artists I admire as well as a couple of small symbolist paintings by Simeon Soloman. I have a few Erte’ gouaches and mostly representational art. I’ve never regretted any art I’ve bought. AOM: Has your work ever been labeled as strictly illustrative and not accepted as fine art? M.O.: Oh sure, people love to list and categorize artists, or anything really. I’ll let history sort that one out. AOM: Where can our readers see more Odom? M.O.: I have a website and post drawings and new paintings on my Facebook page all the time.

Left: Odom, Birthmark, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 8-1/2 x 11-1/8 in.

Odom, Arrangement, pencil, dyes, and gouache, 8-1/2 x 11-1/8 in.



Excerpts published from

The Influence of St. Sebastian Saint Sebastian (died c. 288) was a Christian saint and martyr who is said to have been killed during the Roman emperor Diocletian's persecution of Christians. He is commonly depicted in art and literature tied to a post or tree and shot with arrows. This is the most common artistic depiction of Sebastian; however, he was rescued and healed by Irene of Rome before later being clubbed to death for criticizing the emperor. He is venerated in the Roman Catholic and Orthodox Churches. Diocletian reproached Sebastian for his supposed betrayal, and he commanded him to be led to a field and there to be bound to a stake to be shot at. "And the archers shot at him till he was as full of arrows as an urchin," The Legenda Aurea accounts, leaving him there for the dead. Miraculously, the arrows did not kill him. The widow of Castulus—Irene of Rome—went to retrieve his body to bury it, and found he was still alive. She brought him back to her house and nursed him back to health. The other residents of the house doubted he was a Christian. One of them was a girl who was blind. Sebastian asked her "Do you wish to be with God?", and made the sign of the Cross on her head. "Yes", she replied, and immediately regained her sight. Sebastian then stood on a step and harangued Diocletian as he passed by; the emperor had him beaten to death and his body thrown into a privy.

In an apparition Sebastian told a Christian widow where they might find his body undefiled and bury it "at the catacombs by the apostles." In the Roman Catholic Church, Sebastian is commemorated by an optional memorial on the th 20 of January. In the Church of Greece, Sebastian's th feast day is on 18 of December. As a protector from the bubonic plague, Sebastian was formerly one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers. The connection of the martyr shot with arrows with the plague is not an intuitive one, however. In GrecoRoman myth, Apollo, the archer god is the deliverer of pestilence; the figure of Sebastian Christianizes this folkloric association. The chronicler Paul the Deacon relates that, in 680, Rome was freed from a raging pestilence by him. Sebastian was one of a class of military martyrs and soldier saints of the Early Christian Church whose cults originated in the 4th century and culminated at the end of the Middle Ages, in the 14th and 15th centuries both in the East and the West. Details of their martyrologies may provoke some skepticism among modern readers, but certain consistent patterns emerge that are revealing of Christian attitudes.

Left: Bronzino Saint Sebastian 1533



Master of the Holy Kinship II, Altarpiece of St Sebastian, 1493

In Roman Catholicism, Sebastian is the patron saint of athletes as well as the patron saint of archers. He is commonly referred to as a homosexual icon, which remains an on-going controversial tie between the gay community and the Roman Catholic Church. The earliest representation of Sebastian is a mosaic in the Basilica of Sant'Apollinare Nuovo (Ravenna, Italy) dated between 527 and 565. The right lateral wall of the basilica contains large mosaics representing a procession of 26 martyrs, led by Saint Martin and including Sebastian. The martyrs are represented in Byzantine style, lacking any individuality, and have all identical expressions.

Another early representation is in a mosaic in the Church of San Pietro in Vincoli (Rome, Italy), probably made in the year 682. It shows a grown, bearded man in court dress but contains no trace of an arrow. The archers and arrows begin to appear by the year 1000, and ever since have been far more commonly shown than the actual moment of his death by clubbing, feeding the popular misconception that this is how he died. The opportunity to show a semi-nude male, often in a contorted pose, also made Sebastian a favorite subject. His shooting with arrows was the subject of the largest engraving by “the Master of the Playing Cards� in the 1430s, when there were few other current subjects with male nudes other than Christ.

Left: Raphael, St. Sebastian, 1501


JosĂŠ de Ribera, St. Sebastian Attended by the Holy Women, 1635

Sebastian appears in many other prints and paintings, although this was also due to his popularity with the faithful. Among many others, Botticelli, Perugino, Titian, Pollaiuolo, Giovanni Bellini, Guido Reni (who painted the subject seven times), Mantegna (three times), Hans Memling, Gerrit van Honthorst, Luca Signorelli, El Greco, HonorĂŠ Daumier, John Singer Sargent, and Louise Bourgeois all painted Saint Sebastians. The saint is ordinarily depicted as a handsome youth pierced by arrows.

Sebastian tended by St Irene, painted by Georges de La Tour, Trophime Bigot (four times), Jusepe de Ribera, Hendrick ter Brugghen, and others. This may have been a deliberate attempt by the Church to get away from the single nude subject, which is already recorded in Vasari as sometimes arousing inappropriate thoughts among female churchgoers. The Baroque artists usually treated it as a nocturnal chiaroscuro scene, illuminated by a single candle, torch, or lantern, in the style fashionable in the first half of the 17th century.

A mainly 17th-century subject, though found in predella scenes as early as the 15th century, was St.

Right: Renieri Niccolo Regnier Nicolas, St. Sebastian, 1620



Guido Reni, The Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian, oil on canvas, 1616


Gerrit van Honthorst, Saint Sebastian, 1623

Francois Guillaume Menageot, St. Sebastiano, ~1800.

During Salvador DalĂ­'s "Lorca (Federico GarcĂ­a Lorca) Period," he painted Sebastian several times, most notably in his "Neo-Cubist Academy". For reasons unknown, the left vein of Sebastian is always exposed. In his novella Death in Venice, Thomas Mann hails the "Sebastian-Figure" as the supreme emblem of Apollonian beauty, that is, the artistry of differentiated forms, beauty as measured by discipline, proportion, and luminous distinctions. In 1976, the British director Derek Jarman made a film, Sebastiane, which caused controversy in its treatment of the martyr as a homosexual icon. However, as several critics have noted, this has been a subtext of the imagery since the Renaissance.

El Greco, Saint Sebastian, 1578

Article compiled from excerpts from



Anthony Cudahy is an artist living and working in Brooklyn. He recently graduated with a BFA from Pratt Institute. His work is predominately made up of portraits that touch on themes of transience and ephemerality. Art of Man: Why do you focus on the male subject in your work? Anthony Cudahy: A lot of my portraits express disconnect, an inability to understand the person I am painting or anyone for that matter. And I like men for this because, at least archetypically, they are more guarded and reserved, more impenetrable. Connection is difficult and I like the futile task of painting a portrait as an attempt to connect, failed from the start. I paint a mix of portraits of the people in my life and from images I have collected. I do not see a difference between the two as initiators of paintings because I don't often consider a piece I've made to be a portrait of that person. Rather I focus on the ideas I'm obsessing over at the time and try to allow those to enter the work. AOM: What do you feel makes your work unique? A.C.: I take influences from all over the place, which I believe I take and transform and distill in ways unique to me. My pieces can sometimes be more

influenced by literature than painting. A lot of my pieces acknowledge this sort of longing or desire to be directed and consumed by something—like nostalgia or religion or entertainment—and that comes from interviews I read with David Foster Wallace, just thought through my frame of mind. Films are a source of inspiration, especially lately. I like the idea of learning drawing compositions from Antonioni or learning mood from Lynch. One of my favorite pieces I’ve ever painted, Purple, was inspired by the deep purples that Tarkovsky uses. He had the ability to make a color seem like a mystical entity in itself. I try to figure out what parts I can use and expand, but also what parts I need to ignore from others. It’s like trying to capture the energy of a Schiele, but realizing that the ornate qualities won’t serve you, and dropping them. I’m just trying to be open, but at the same time treating everything with an analytical eye. At the same time, I do make work that responds to thoughts and events and desires in my life. It's my path and that must make it unique. I suppose any artist could say the same though. AOM: What do you think about when you work? A.C.: Does this excite me? Does this extend beyond the present moment? Meaning, does the piece transcend just being a portrait and give off

Left: Cudahy, Fever Dream, ink on paper, 9 x 12 in.


something human. It can be as simple as a mood or a feeling, but it has to be right on. Formally, I don't really worry much if it ventures away from recognizability. Sometimes I'll see a lighting condition that I really want to convey and then I'll try to make the colors close to the source, but outside of that I use the source as a jumping off point for the colors. AOM: Do you see a change in the acceptance of the male figure as subject? A.C.: If I compare the current art world to its history, then yes I definitely see a change. From my own very limited experience though, I've never noticed or experienced any non-acceptance. It's never been a factor in my mind. If I want to do a portrait of a man, I do a portrait of a man. AOM: Some of your work seems very emotionally charged, does that parallel your life in some way? A.C.: Some of my pieces come to semi-tragic ends. For example, I gave my friend a portrait I did of her boyfriend. When they eventually broke up, in the middle of a fight, she tore the drawing into several pieces. When he ran out he grabbed one or two pieces to give me. He felt terrible, but it quickly became something to laugh about. I’ve had my dog eat a painting before—that was ridiculous. And one time at a show, the person setting up nailed through my drawing! I only found out when I got to the opening that night. I really am full of these sorts of stories, which is as unfortunate as it is humorous. AOM: What is one thing people might not know about you? A.C.: This past winter was only the fourth one I've ever experienced. I'm from the South and it's strange to actually experience seasons. It changes your perspective of a year and it amazes me how easy it is to forget what warm is or what cold is like. AOM: You are a young artist, recently graduated, we discovered you actually through What are your hopes for your future as an artist?

A.C.: I've been trying to not think ahead so much lately (to avoid panic attacks), so none of the following is truly planned out. I'd like to be able to support myself off of my art completely. I want to still be painting and be able to have a studio instead of working on the floor in my small apartment. Really only in the past year or so have I started to take comics seriously, so I'm excited to see where that takes me. It's interesting to start something fresh and new that you really have to try at because you don't know the rules and you don't know what you're capable of doing. It’s at that stage where you really can learn from everyone, before you start closing off a bit and finding styles and methods you prefer. I'd also like to get into making films. I have another painter friend, Eric Wiley, and he's sort of freaking out about painting right now. He wants, at least as a breather I think, to move into image making that's not as reliant on his skills as a painter or as limited by the medium. And film seems to be where he wants to experiment, so I'm excited to start working on some projects with him. AOM: How do you feel your work is evolving? A.C.: My paintings used to look like someone overanalyzed Lucian Freud paintings and took all the life out of them. It took me a long while to figure out how to paint genuinely, and it's nothing as regimented as that. I even gave up on painting a few times out of frustration, but could never stay away. I think I needed those breaks to reevaluate my work more objectively and figure out where I was going wrong. Now I'm less tied down and feel like every few months my work is radically different in terms of how I paint and how I think about painting. I try really hard to make sure that I'm excited about what I'm painting and am taking blind risks. It's not that I don't have the patience for more strict painting. When I sit down to paint, I can go for an entire night. It's that I'm not interested in just doing what I know will give me a result.


Cudahy, Chris, gouache, 8 x 10in.


Cudahy, Night, ink on paper, 30 x 34in.

AOM: Did you always want to be an artist? A.C.: When I was a kid I was always making comics or taking photographs. I wrote a lot at one point and thought for sure I'd end up a writer, but eventually painting and drawing became more prominent in my life, midway through high school. I think it took me a long time after that though to figure out how to separate wanting to be good at the technical side and figuring out how to make work that was fulfilling on a different level. Or that speaks to concepts more interesting than line style.

AOM: What subject is the hardest for you as an artist to capture? A.C.: Hope is the hardest and I think about this frequently. Sometimes I think that art should provide solutions, but then maybe just making work that others can see and relate to and possibly feel something that reverberates is enough. "Getting" another person's work is oddly very comforting.


Cudahy, With Plants, gouache and acrylic, 36 x 30 in.

AOM: Do you remember the first time you ever sold a work of art? A.C.: Yes, I sold a small self portrait drawing through the internet. I was amazed that someone would want to spend money on my work. It's strange that way, on the internet. It's very easy for people to 'like' pictures and give nice feedback, but people aren't usually willing to spend money to get a physical version. In a way, everything on the internet is free. It was about two years later, at a group show that I sold a very large painting and got to meet the couple who was purchasing it. That part was the best in a way. I wish I could have done that with the first sale. The internet is great for so many things like exposure and the chance to meet people

incredible distances away from you, but real experiences count for so much more. AOM: Can you tell us a bit about your technique? A.C.: When I'm working on a painting, I work in layers, allowing mistakes to occur and building off them. I like being forced to deal with accidents, letting go of control so that I'm put in unexpected places and have to think more about the painting. I think it's really important to be kept on your toes. Without that, progress is slow and excitement is rare. I do start ink drawings differently. They are much more narrative, I think, so there's more structure in that I'm setting a scene.


Cudahy, Purple, watercolor, 8 x 10 in.


Cudahy, Stare, watercolor, 8 x 10 in.

AOM: What was your experience like in art school? A.C.: Honestly, it was worth it for the friends I made throughout my time there. All of my close friends are also amazing and motivated artists and that's what kept me going each year. By the end of my senior year, though, I began to get very restless. The classes were set up in this weird competitive way, which I grew to realize wasn't realistic. People were vying for the approval of teachers rather than trying to get the most out of the class. And it's hard to not let friendly competition between classmates become something else entirely. I found myself sometimes going down paths that weren't mine because of this, trying to catch up and pass someone else. Now, outside of that setting, it's much easier to see other artists following their own paths as something separate from me—inspiring, not frustrating.

Cudahy, Reach, ink and gesso, 8 x 10 in.

AOM: How about your first exhibition? A.C.: The first show that I was a part of outside of ones I set up at school with friends, took place outside of a gallery in Red Hook, Brooklyn. The artists participating were asked to create time-based pieces to be projected in between music acts. I made this animation called Disappearings that took me a month to draw. It was towards the end of winter, but the wind was intense as the night went on and everyone was freezing. People started fires in trash bins and huddled—that cold. What amazed me about that crowd though was that so many stayed despite all this to see the bands and the art. Everyone was supportive and lively and the whole event was extremely inspiring.

For more about Anthony’s art and projects visit his website or drop him a note:,



Coming Next Issue‌

Vlanetine Bakardjiev, Night, oil on canvas, 80 x 160 cm.

Directory Of Artists Artists of the Male Figure & Websites These artists have 50% or more of their portfolios dedicated to the male figure. New additions are in RED Manuel A. Acevedo Anthony Ackrill Robert M Adamcik Hakim Aiman Syed Ali Arif

Paul Allum

Ella Barsky

Grant Arnold Anderson

Davidd Batalon

Doug Auld

Bart Bharat

Valentin Bakardjiev

Paul Birchall

Jack Balas

Norbert Bisky

James Xavier Barbour

Gio Black Peter

Valentin Bakardjiev

Doug Blanchard

Daniel Barkley

Denny Bond

François Bard

Kelly Borsheim


Michael Broderick Michael Breyette Roy W. Butler Philip Byrne Francisco Cabas Tony de Carlo William Cash Jean ChaĂŽney Gary Chapman

Above: Reynolds, Figure as Landscape 1, 30 x 40 in. 2002 Below: Reynolds, Male Figure, Oval, prismacolor on toned paper, 32 x 40 in.1995

Jenny Chi James Childs Paul Chisholm Wu Meng Chun Tyrus Clutter Ain Cocke Kelly Collins Peter Colstee

Nigel Cox

Giorgio Dante

Cassandra Complex

Steve Cronkite

Matthew Davey

Jack Cowan

Anthony Cudahy

Matthew Dayler


Marc DeBauch

Christian Gaillard

Felix d'Eon

Bob Gherardi

Dmitry Dmitriev

Gilberto Giardini

Andre Durand

E. Gibbons

Tom Durham William Eicholtz Darren Engleman

Philip Hitchcock Bonnie Hofkin Mark Horst Sabin Howard Greg Howser Gerard Huber

Ron Griswold

Daniel Hughes

Wim Griffith

Mohsen Irani

Joe Fanelli

Gabriel Grun

Eric Itschert

Steve Ferris

Leif Harmsen

Lin Jinfu

Roberto Ferri

Maurice Heerdink

Anne John

Robert Fontanelli

Wim Heldens

David John

Tom Foral

Wes Hempel

Jason Jones

Rick Herold

Tom Jones

Clive Hicks-Jenkins

John Woodrow Kelley

Cauro Hige

Michael Kirwan

Michael Hinkle

Hideki Koh

Tenmyouya Hisashi

Jindriska Krulichova

Jan Esmann

Cody Furguson Ted Fusby Frenn Chawky Alexandra G. Victor Gadino


Douglas Malone Daniel L. Malisky Jim Marino Xavier Robles de Medina Jordan Mejias Luca Mantovanelli James Messana Joshua Meyer Joachim Marx Jordan Mejias Franck de Las Mercedes Sovkov, Cornflower, oil on canvas, 100 x 80 in.

Olan Mongomery

Pracownia Kruss

Ruben Lartigue

Ben Moore

Oldล™ich Kulhรกnek

Jeanine Leclaire

Li Ming Shun

Kumoki Mathieu Laca George Lafayette Ward Lamb Rob de Lange

Michael Leonard Len Leone Tai Lin Peter Lindsay Zachari Logan Chris Lopez

Musk Ming Sebastian Moreno Steve Mumford Thomas Murray Michael Newberry 72

William Newhouse Candace Nicol Ward Nipper Noel Mel Odom Justin Ogilvie Andrew Ogus Gonzalo Orquín Jose Parra Pacifico Palumbo Campbell Paxton Filip Peraić Miriam Perez Cudahy, Behind, ink on paper, 24 x 36 in.

Kevin E. Peterson Maria E. Piñeres Heiko Pippig Jorge Posada David Powers

Benoît Prévot

Mark Reed

Grego Rachko

Fernando Reyes

Joseph Radoccia

Miguel Angel Reyes

Fran Recacha

Eric Rhein


OrquĂ­n, Cleverson, oil on canvas, 100 x 70 cm.


Robert Richards Paul Richmond R. E. Roberts Michael Rogovsky

Serge Sovkov

Naoki Tatsuya

Jaff NoĂŤl Seijas

James Thacker

Philip Shadbolt

Michael Tice

Robert Sherer

Robert C. Rore

Kenya Shimizu

Lou Ros

Douglas Simonson

Alex Roulette

Aaron Smith

Pascal Roy

Christopher Sousa

Steve Rush

Trevor Southey

Paul Rybarczyk

Gary J. Speziale Richard Stabbert

Kimura Ryoko

Barry Steely

Gayle Ryon Shimamura Saburou Refael Salem Tim Sandys Carmine Santaniello Miriam Schulman

Matthew Stradling Jacques Sultana Sovkov Sergey Richard Taddei Todd Taro

George Towne James Tyler William "Cricket" Ulrich Martin-Jan van Santen Lambro Vassiliadis Kirk Vaughn-Robinson Nicola Verlato Joseph Vorgity Steve Walker (d-2012) Richard Wallace Scott Waters Court Watson Ross Watson Patrick Webb


Do you have them all? Visit:


Cudahy, Held, gouache and acrylic, 30 x 30 in.

Carolyn Weltman

Forrest Williams

Todd Yeager

Marvin Werlin

John Woodrow Kelly


Barnaby Whitfield

Manolo Yanes

Tom Zahn




Joerg Zenker Bob Ziering Recommended Galleries Lyman-Eyer Gallery Provincetown, MA www. Leslie/Lohman Gay Art Museum Manhattan, NY Adonis Art Gallery London, UK Firehouse Gallery Bordentown, NJ PHD Gallery St. Louis, MO

Odom, The Stallion, pencil, dyes, and gouache

J & W Gallery New Hope, PA Recommended Websites

Lizardi/Harp Gallery Pasadena CA 626-791-8123

Galerie Mooi-Man Groningen, Netherlands www.mooi-man.NL

Rodger Lapelle Gallery Philadelphia, PA Alexander Salazar Fine Art San Diego, CA Mayumi International Japan/Australia Vitruvian Gallery Washington, DC Other Books We Publish Powerfully Beautiful 365 Art Quotes 100 Artists of the Male Figure

More information about the Art of Man, subscriptions, back issues, submissions, and more can be found at: No assumptions should be made about the artists included in this book; their gender or sexuality. Though all of the artists dedicate a significant portion of their portfolio to the classical male form, they are equally adept in painting, drawing, and sculpting many other subjects as well. We always seek artists who dedicate 50% or more of their portfolio to the male figure and promote those artists at no cost here. More information about being featured in a future edition can be found on our website:


Art of Man - Edition 10  

This is a sample edition of The Art of Man, a quarterly publication that focuses on fine art of the male form in traditional media like pain...

Art of Man - Edition 10  

This is a sample edition of The Art of Man, a quarterly publication that focuses on fine art of the male form in traditional media like pain...