I'll confess it now, I'm not much of one for most modern art. I tend to find it too loud, or too busy, or just plain awful. But, as they say, there are exceptions to every rule, and Scottish born, self-taught, artist Jack Vettriano is one of them. You might not recognize his name right off, but if you saw his work, you would know right away who he is. The best known of his works are the two paintings, Elegy for the Dead Admiral and The Singing Butler. It seems that nearly every poster shop in the world has these two available.

But I prefer his moodier, darker works. In those, men and women are shown in intimate moments. Some have dangerous overtones, others are very sexual in nature. Sometimes there is nudity, but not very often. But what does come across in every one of them is a sizzle of passion and intensity.

With his book, Studio Life, Vettriano lets us into the world where he creates his images. Even more interesting, he shows us just how he gets there -- from the places where he gets his inspiration from -- Scotland, London and Nice, France -- his models, where he works, and finally, himself.

The book is filled with photographs and reproductions of Vettriano's works, from the inital sketches and rough ideas, to how he sets up his models for a shoot -- and sometimes uses himself as a model, all the way through to the final painting.

Other intriguing aspect is how culture has both influenced, and has been influenced by, Jack Vettriano's work. I was rather pleased to see that some of my own favourites were there too -- musicians such as Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan, to name a few. There's edgy glamour in his paintings, the women in them leggy and made up with scarlet lipstick, the men in suits and ties and impeccably turned out. In our age of open sleaze, and Hollywood excess, what I like about them is that it harkens back to a time when there was a bit of danger to being in love, that being with someone sometimes was a risky thing indeed, and everything could be bundled up into a single glance or the turn of a head. And sometimes, in Vettriano's work, the cigarette in a hand, or a glance.

An interesting touch is the introduction to the book, penned by none other than a fellow native son of Fife, Scotland, long time mystery author Ian Rankin. He discusses some about the nature of both the writer's and artist's life -- namely, they work alone, they have to, or otherwise nothing would ever get done.

I rather enjoy Vettriano. He's got a rough and tumble honesty to him that strips away most of the elitism or obfuscation that most modern artists cultivate. And there is a real skill underneath there, his figures are very alive and there. While his people are nearly too perfect, in a stylized film noir way, the viewer's eyes keep going back. There's a story in that painting, a snapshot of time, and you've just been allowed a peek inside. But just a peek, mind, it's up to you how the rest of it will play out.

If you can handle the sometimes disturbing, sexual, tone of his work, Vettriano is an artist that is worth a second look. While I know that there is a snowball in hell's chances of ever owning one of his works, his books do let me have a bit of his work for my very own. And that is enough.

Five stars. But not for everyone. Proceed with caution.

I appreciate Vettriano. He's a fairly decent craftsman and his ideas are nice. He is an artist who has found a nich and is able to make a living off of it. There isnt an artist I know who wouldnt honestly trade places with him. (That tells you something about the artists I know.) The feel of the book is quite contrived. I love seeing artists' studios. ONes work space call tell you ALOT about a person. His studio is functional and boring. The best photo is of him in his artist get up. Old ripped clothing that has a huge red smear of paint across the front. How the hell did that happen (!!), apart from on purpose. Silly. The text is interesting. He explains his process, which does have merit.