In my early 30s I was a pit trader at the Chicago Board of Trade recharging at the Art Institute of Chicago between trading sessions. Riding home on the bus one day, in an exhausted state, I mumbled under my breath: I really need some balance in my life. The stranger next to me said: I go to the American Academy of Art—you should check it out. I took that stranger’s advice and began my classical training on evenings and weekends, immersed in the traditional method to capture the beautiful and complex human form.

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