If You Can’t Hear the Ovations, You’ve Won (2025) Drawing by Anton Terziev

Anton Terziev’s “If You Can’t Hear the Ovations, You’ve Won” is an arresting work that merges classical drawing techniques with a distinctly contemporary subject: the cauliflower ear, a badge of honor—and sometimes cautionary tale—among fighters in the world of mixed martial arts. Executed in sanguine and charcoal on a vivid red ground, the piece draws upon a long lineage of figure study and anatomical representation, while capturing the physical toll and symbolic weight of combat sports.
Terziev’s use of sanguine(red chalk) evokes a venerable artistic tradition, one stretching back to the Renaissance when artists such as Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo employed red chalk for warm, lifelike figure studies. Sanguine’s subtlety allows for the gentle modeling of forms and gradations of flesh tones, lending a raw intimacy to the work. Meanwhile, charcoal offers dramatic contrast: the deep black contours reinforce the ridges and folds of the damaged cartilage. This interplay between sanguine and charcoal is reminiscent of 17th- and 18th-century academic drawing methods, yet Terziev channels it into an unmistakably contemporary commentary.
The triptych of ears at the center of the composition speaks to the transformation of the body under extreme physical stress. Cauliflower ear—common among wrestlers, judokas, and MMA fighters—results from blunt trauma that disrupts the cartilage. In Terziev’s rendering, each ear is shown from a slightly different angle, highlighting the variety of shapes and distortions that can occur. These variations suggest both the resilience of the human body and the marks it carries from repeated violence.
By isolating the ear in the pictorial space, Terziev focuses attention on an often-overlooked body part, framing it as a stand-in for the entire fighter’s journey. The textured surfaces, accentuated by the soft red background, are reminiscent of bruised flesh—an echo of the physical punishment endured in the ring or cage. The bold, warm hue behind the ears underscores the presence of blood, ion, and the raw nature of combat.
The title, “If You Can’t Hear the Ovations, You’ve Won” is as evocative as the imagery itself. It hints at the paradoxical reality of combat sports: even as a victor stands in the spotlight, celebrated by cheering crowds, the body may be too battered or altered to fully that triumph. The title’s wry tone also suggests a certain stoicism—winning at all costs, to the point where the fighter may no longer hear the very applause for which they’ve fought.
In art-historical context, ears have served as potent symbols in works referencing sacrifice, suffering, or transformation. From the infamous story of Vincent van Gogh’s self-mutilation to more metaphorical uses of the ear in Surrealist art, artists have long recognized that the ear can be both vulnerable and deeply expressive. Terziev’s composition taps into that tradition, but locates it firmly in the visceral world of contemporary sports culture.
The choice to depict a body part marred by conflict can evoke discomfort in the viewer. Yet this discomfort is central to the piece’s power. Much like the baroque painters who dwelled on the drama of the body under duress, Terziev lays bare the unvarnished, corporeal truth of athletic struggle. His medium—sanguine—historically ired for capturing the softness of skin—here is used to capture the hardness of trauma. Charcoal’s stark black lines add further tension, making the swollen contours of the ears all the more dramatic.
Visually, the red background intensifies the sensation that the flesh itself is throbbing with pain, or that we are peering into a layer beneath the surface. The near-monochrome palette conjures an atmosphere of internal heat, recalling the fervor of competition and the rush of adrenaline.
“If You Can’t Hear the Ovations, You’ve Won” exemplifies Anton Terziev’s ability to fuse classical drawing techniques with modern, provocative subject matter. In doing so, he elevates a detail—cauliflower ears—commonly dismissed or viewed with mild horror, into a testament to human resilience, the cost of glory, and the sometimes paradoxical nature of victory. By isolating and monumentalizing these wounded ears, Terziev reminds us that every accolade may come at a price. In the lineage of art history, this work stands as both an homage to the discipline of draftsmanship and a reflection on the intimate, bodily consequences of contemporary combat sports.

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