Thanks to Theresa, I spent Wednesday evening with Simon Schama (me and a hundred or so others) The lecture discussed George Stubbs whose beautiful horse portraits threw out the flawed anatomies, unchanged since the Renaissance, as George drew his own from scratch. The gentle, horsey humanity of his paintings contrast to the methods he used to discover the secrets beneath the hide. He led horse after horse to his attic, hoisted them up in a specially made harness and tied their limbs into the desired position. Then he would bleed them to death. He would replace the drip by drip blood with preserving tallow. When they were dead he would flay them and progressively strip away their tissues to reveal the bones arranged at a gallop or whatever.
Conflicting qualities dwell in the same heart.
My mechanic has a poster on the wall which says “Private property, keep out, no entry unless you have big boobs”. He also has a picture on his desk of a kitten sitting in a tiny deckchair.