so, when i was in college, i fell in love with art history. actually, back up a step. i fell in love with art history during my grade 12 western civilization class. that’s actually why i started taking art history classes in college. i imagined myself growing up to become a well-known art restorer, working in all the most amazing museums all over the world, ensuring that priceless paintings and sculpture would not be ravaged by time and inattention.
anyway, i remember one evening in the darkened classroom (it was always dark in there because we were always looking at slides of art, duh), a photo of michaelangelo’s david appeared on the screen. it could even have been this picture for it seems very familiar to me. my teacher (whose name i forget, but not her horrible perfume) started talking about how michaelangelo carved david’s head and hands to be larger than normal to ensure that people viewing it from the ground would see them in proper proportion, etc. she then made some sort of comment about david’s physique and it’s realism. i remember being confused because i didn’t think david’s hip lines were real. they seemed more like the hip joints on g.i. joe dolls than what one would find on a real human male.
you see, at the tender age of 18, i had never seen a man totally naked. at least, never a man who had the buffness of david. mom’s playgirl of burt reynolds didn’t prepare me at all.
to this day, whenever i see this sculpture i blush for my 18-year-old self and her delightful naivete.