I love the human body, it seems … because I return to it time after time in sculpture, painting and drawing. Maybe I got the bug from poring over ‘Gombrich’ or ‘The History of Art’ – both long time art reference books – losing myself in fascination with the past. From fleshy, sinuous Rubens paintings to ‘The Nike of Samothrace’ (a winged but headless woman, marvelously sculpted); or the colourful and pleasure-giving abstractedness of Paul Cezanne. I loved it all.
I spent my childhood learning how to draw from ‘how to draw’ books. I loved horses, so I drew them over and over – using ovals and boxes in constructing form. My early efforts weren’t remarkable, but there was something there. I was an average, artistically minded kid. But when…