Stag at Sharkies is one of the iconic works of brilliance from the early 1900’s brought into the world by George Bellows. The gestures, raw, unflattering honesty and the visceral brush strokes of the visual language place you within the world of Bellows. Spend some time with the masterpiece and you can start to smell the cigar smoke, and worry at what your wife will say about the blood splatters on your jacket collar. I started even to question how I'd fair in the ring. And that’s where this painting hit me hardest- inner fears, struggles, worries.
And the more I’ve listened to others stories pounding sympathetic to the incessant drumming of my heart inside my chest, I get the sense I’m not alone in my experience. By far the mass of struggles while blood pumps and spills and rebuilds, are within. So in my adoration of George Bellow’s brilliance, I took liberty, stood on his shoulders and have made it my own. This is still a moment of raw reality but the figures overlap and merge at the top of the piece. This is one fighter suspended in time, battling to the death with himself.
