Flesh Onion

Anatomically Correct Paintings Of Danny Quirk

Death by Party | Anatomically Correct Paintings Of Danny Quirk

Back when television was anything but insipid during my formative years of middle-through-high school, existed one thing only second to Bob Ross that tethered occipital lobes to the ‘tube. This was the live biopsies and medical operations on whatever channel was hosting them at the time. Not only was this an ancillary education I couldn’t cull from mere textbook academia, but also did this serve as scintillating entertainment whilst consuming a hillock of mashed potatoes and greens when it was time to eat. Once again, the circuitous fascination of internal affairs hath come around to me again with the incisive artistry of Danny Quirk. Let’s just moniker it ‘Anatomical Dinner Theatre’.
The Massachusetts based artist attributes his self-taut success to muscling through failure. After being dismissed from Med Schools for their illustration programs, Quirk decided to turn the knife (Sharpie) on his beloved and friends alike to brighten (Acrylics) his horizons. As bully as such may read, it’s his utilization of Latex that I’m enraptured in. Though an extremely talented water-colorist on conventional canvas a la his ‘Anatomical Self Dissections’ series, on pulsating palettes, he will initiate a layer of that faux skin prior to working his lapidary sorcery. In order to flay flesh, he affixes new flesh in order to pullulate more accuracy in what lay beneath us all. It is Gross Anatomy turned into, figuratively, microscopic anatomy. The liquid base is nearly akin to a second wind, nay, a second skin. Initial inspiration was born from the Body Worlds exhibit, and lo and beholden to him were sung praises so as to be commissioned to paint models for the Body Worlds promoting of last year’s NYC Fashion Week. Let’s just moniker it ‘Anatomical Theatre in the Round’.

In past articles, I’ve expounded on why art possesses an intellectual and emotional internal affair within my fibrous sinew. Danny’s prowess holds no such personal truck. Though a conflation of my watching the machinations of B.R. and the E.R. would be in tow, there is something bigger than a solipsistic view at hand, which is why I’m recusing myself completely. We’re all comprised of the same sinew, salinity, breakable bones and brackish. There exists no conceivable reason why I should perceive these pieces as hitting a special nerve because we all look like this subcutaneously. We are all fleshy moving pictures cosseted within a three act-structure of muscle, sinew, and bone. Let’s just moniker it ‘the Anatomy of Theatrical Makeup’.

By Robert Kijowski

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