I had a long post here about how I've been fascinated by physical trauma lately. Shark attack victims. Emergency thoracotomies. That sort of thing. About how I probably always have been, but my squeamishness has gotten in the way of that and blah blah blah. Been forcing myself to look. To recognise the same constituent parts in myself. I mentioned that if ever a job opportunity arose to be something as fanciful and no-doubt imaginary as a professional wound photographer, I'd take it. Beauty and vulnerability, right?
Then I segued into how I had a sick day today, so I went and sketched cadavers. How the drawing on the far right is the first I finished, but I like the other two more. Less interested in fine detail. More interested in movement and weight. Been big on balloon drawings lately, too. Then I accidentaly deleted it, but not before contradicting myself and using some big words.
Click the image for a couple more.