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George Sotos and Anatomy Intensive at The Drawing Workshop

This is not a sponsored post. And at the end of this highly informative article about George Sotos and The Drawing Workshop I’ll explain why George’s money is no good at this magazine because he has my heart. But we’ll get to that later.

George Sotos has a school that, coincidentally, is now in the same building as the conference room we rent hourly for editorial meetings, 4410 N. Ravenswood.  But when I met George in 1990, the Drawing Workshop was downtown and I was about 19, and was the girl who showed up to be the model for a life drawing class.

The studio was filled with brown skeletons hanging on hooks. If you go there 20 years later, you’ll still see those skeletons. It seemed odd, bones strewn on tables and a dozen skeletons hanging around. Then during a break I wandered around and realized the skeletons were student work.  The students were sculpting skeletons in a not-for-credit, not-associated-with-an –institution program that took at least 4-6 years to complete.

Ten years later I went back, took color theory, and worked on my sacrum. Ask any student there what a sacrum is and they all give you a hallow-eyed look. Because you start with the sacrum, making it out of non-hardening brown modeling clay, then you make it hollow. Then you draw it. Time stops. Then after months working on the most f***** complicated bone you’ll ever encounter, you move to the femur, and take it from there.

It’s a great program, they have equally intense color theory, drawing, and hold Sunday life drawing walk-ins. It’s an intense studio and there is nothing else like it in Chicago.

So there you go, my plug for George.

Oh – ok, why I love George. You had to ask. So it’s 2001 and I’d made so much money in technology I’d retired for a while to make movies and take George’s art classes during the day. 6 months into the whole thing I realized I was pregnant and had to drop everything, I had to focus and get ready for life’s plan B. The studio was in a different location back then, one with winding corridors, multiple buzzers and a zillion doors. So for serious students who were studying hours a day, George would give them a key. So when I got pregnant and had to drop out I offered my key back, saying “I guess I won’t be a serious artist now.”

George looked at me and said “Keep the key.”

A lot of great art-affirming things have happened since then, but nothing compares to George telling me to keep the key.  So George, keep up the great work and thank you for being so kind.