Egon Schiele’s art is defined by its raw intensity and emotional depth. His ability to capture the vulnerability of the human body—through angular, distorted figures—pushed the boundaries of traditional portraiture. Inspired by his own tragic loss and psychological struggles, Schiele’s work conveys the complexities of life, death, and sexuality in a way that is both unsettling and beautiful.

In this blog, I explore how Schiele’s early influences, like Gustav Klimt, shaped his journey as an artist, and how he eventually broke free from those conventions to develop his own unique voice. I also discuss the lasting impact Schiele has had on contemporary artists like Agnes Cecil, whose work continues to embrace the rawness and honesty that Schiele so brilliantly mastered. Join me as I reflect on how his art has influenced my own and the lessons I’ve learned from Schiele’s emotional approach to creation.

I never thought I’d feel a connection with Albrecht Dürer. His work always felt too technical, too rigid—nothing like the way I paint. But when I started studying him for my Masters Reimagined series, something shifted. From a gouache skull study to a rhinoceros that tested my patience, to a final portrait that made me pause—I didn’t come away painting like him, but I came away understanding something. About discipline. About detail. About how copying isn’t the goal. Listening is.

Something about that newborn phase, up until around five months old, made me feel like my son was an alien. Maybe it's my sleep deprivation, his underdeveloped vision, limited communication, innate reflexes, or just the profound bond and hormonal changes in me—I can't quite understand what my newborn son was thinking or feeling, making him seem almost alien and sacred. There was one moment when he just gazed at the lamp light for such a long time, with a face that I associated with something sacred. This was a watercolor portrait to capture his sacredness, with the exact reference photo being this moment of his sacred gaze.