Mr. Teicher: "Mastercopies just don't ring my bell."
Mrs. Teicher: "Not only do I like them, but I've been urged by various instructors to make them -- make them early and often."
I've reviewed those instructors' words in my mind, and I'll quote them here.
"You can't do enough master copies," said John Rizzotto, a classically trained artist who is teaching my painting class. "If you do five slammin' master copies of a master's work, you can say you studied with that master." (He was holding a photo of a Rembrandt.)
"Master copies are like intravenous art education," said Gary Faigin, artistic director of Gage Academy of Art, where I attend classes.
"The practice of copying masterworks has helped train some of the greatest artists who ever lived," wrote Juliette Aristides in her book "Lessons in Classical Drawing."
I have made two finished drawings (and many sketches) from masterworks, one by Pierre-Paul Prud'hon and another by Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin. I realize that my nude looks like a linebacker, but I drew her when I was 42, just a baby. How could I be expected to perfectly execute that perpetual tormenter of artists: proportion. This won't be my last attempt. My desire to copy masterworks has only grown more intense since I started studying art a few years ago.
Mr. Teicher will just have to put up with it.