My sister is the sole possessor of artistic ability in our generation of my family. One summer in high school, she was asked to paint a mural in a long curving hallway in the school's performing arts building, and she designed a stylized larger-than-life representation of the musculature of a human, cartwheeling along the hallway. Since her stencil was big and a little unwieldy, I did the tall-guy thing and helped her hang and move the stencil for a couple of days. She did a great job, and for all I know the mural's still there, 20-some years later.
I haven't thought about that for a very long time, but seeing these figures this afternoon as I was walking in the 4th arrondissement reminded me of it and my sister's talent.