I was watching a shoot about body building.
I was watching the superhuman efforts made by superhumans and superwomen in perpetual struggle against metal blocks and complex pulleys.
I looked at the plastic, rocky, granitic poses, where the flesh could no longer be recognized.
Unnatural poses for those who are not fighting.
For those who do not have a stomachache.
For those who did not take the edge with the little finger.
Poses of extreme effort, in surreal contrast with the forced smiles directed at the camera, the judges, the public.
The efforts were however real, accompanied by moans, verses and, in the best cases, by real screams.
Screams that I couldn't hear, suffocated by background music and the reporter commentary .
Screams whose sound, whose meaning and intention I could only imagine.
So the imagination moves.
It analyzes the powerful bodies, to which a powerful voice must correspond.
Analyzes slow and oily gestures, designed to impress someone by inviting them to give an answer.
Analyze the smiles next to the tears that express the doubt: "Is that enough for you? How much longer will it last?"
So I start drawing.
The pose is there, I like it, summarizes what I perceived.
I scan the sketch, I convert it to negative.
I mark the lines of force, then I convert it in vector graphics and stretch the legs a bit.
I detect the muscle masses, I invert the colors again.
A little bit of conviction is still missing, so I open a huge, caricatured mouth.
Good, but the head is somewhat unbalanced.
I do some elaborations, but then I decide to insert my logo masked as a ponytail.
Now here we are, only the title is missing.
The title must pay tribute to the dedication of these athletes, their perseverance and passion for anatomical re-creation.
The title arises spontaneously from muscular strength, tense nerves, from the collected gesture that involves an expansion, an explosion, a primordial scream.