Napoleon who came from the Isle of Corsica, was a little man and, like many Italian people, inclined to dimply chubbiness. No doubt, he suffered from an inferiority complex, which is indicated in the fact, that at an early age he entered the army, so to gain some masculinity.

From the beginning as a leader of the French Revolution, till becoming Emperor, Bonaparte told painters, like the master David, that great heroes should never be painted as they are, but greatly idealized, for after their death no one would know their likeness anyway, so why not make them demi-gods, and the world would believe only the paintings, not handed down verbal descriptions.

For the opposite reason we have political cartoons, so to sharply focus our observations and show the essence of a personality. A politician is basically a parasite who, by deception, aims to get to the top of possibilities. The layman cannot fathom the hidden personality behind the silken speech and honeyed voice, but the finely trained eye of the artist cannot only interpret the likeness but, by means of stylized physiognomy, intensify the real personality.

Each person has facial lines, left there from frequent resorting to them. These are the lines of laughter, of anger, of cynicism, wistfulness, greed, generosity, and many mixed expressions. The most recurrent mood leaves the deepest marks. Portraits painted or sculpted just like the person, are bad Art. They are merely examples of photographic taxidermy that should be reproduced in the Sears Catalogue. We do not make portraits of people for their contemporaries, but for their descendants, and they ought to be interpreted, that is, certain marks should be omitted to bring out other, more delicate marks that reveal the inner person, not misrepresent him or her. The portrait of a Pope by Titian is a testimony for truthful revelation in Art. By reading the Pope's hyena carcass gleaning eyes, the painter penetrated the hypocritical politician who owned most of the whorehouses in Rome.

In the portraits I make, I attempt to bring forth the two most contradictory but dominant features I see, despite the obvious put-on garnishings of amiability. Although I exaggerate the facial proportions, the likeness nevertheless makes it... legitimate. It is the intangible that is the likeness of the spirit of the person immortalized. The best moment in canvas or clay, is when the sitter is caught lost in thought, all to himself, oblivious to the artist. That is precisely the moment of truth, as if undressing alone before you go to sleep, when besides the clothes you shed, you undress to the marrow of your shin-bones; you are even without your personal shadow since the candle has been blown out. Now! There is your likeness, undeniable, but you cannot be seen.