It had been six months since my last and only time life modelling at Candid Arts in Islington. On that occasion it was for an all-day oil painting course, with instruction and demonstration by Edward Wills. This time around was for a more conventional two-hour drop-in life drawing group.
The group was facilitated by Luca Indraccolo. On the evidence of his website, the man is a fantastic artist. For this session, however, he simply welcomed and called pose times for me and those who’d come to draw. Of the latter, there were nine.
One thing I’d forgotten from my previous visit was the stealthy filth of the floor. I took off my shoes and socks, walked ten metres to the nice white sheet on which I pose, and instantly covered it with charcoal-black footprints. The floor does not look unduly dirty but the unshod foot will always find what the eye cannot.
There were to be eight poses: four of 5 minutes each then 10, 15 and 20 minutes up to a short break, and finally 40 minutes to a finish. There was no music or muttering while work was in progress, so only Luca’s time calls broke the silence.
Artists spared their kind words for the end of each half. One offered to buy me tea at half-time, while others were complimentary about the poses or how still I was during the final 40 minutes. The latter comment was particularly welcome as I’m never sure the extent to which my tiny muscle shifts to spread weight, balance tension or ease pain, might be visible. Barely at all, it would seem.
As this was my début for the group I hope the positive feedback bodes well for future bookings. If so, maybe I’ll bring my darker sheet next time…
People of Hackney! If you rather fancy you’d enjoy a laid-back evening with a drink in one hand and a pencil in the other, sketching a nude human body upstairs at one of London’s trendier pubs, then why not saunter down to The Star by Hackney Downs on Thursday evenings?
I was there myself Thursday last week, not as a patron but as the nude human body. Upon arriving I was greeted by Catherine Hall. On Mondays she provides superb life drawing tuition at the A-side B-side Gallery in Hackney Downs Studios. ‘Drawing the Star‘, however, is purely for relaxation and enjoyment.
Next to arrive was Carla Nizzola, the artist who runs the group jointly with Catherine. Together they finished preparing the pose space, plugging in our evening’s music and setting out materials – included in the £7 price – for the artists. We talked through the pose times, looked at some inspirational pieces, and at 7:30pm we were ready.
I began with 10 minutes perched on the edge of a high chair in front of the five-pointed star of red and white light bulbs on the back wall, then continued with a pseudo-yoga cross-legged pose on the same chair. A fine glow of natural light cast shadows away from our side windows.
For 3 minutes I stood in a crucifix stance across the star itself, occasionally flinching my buttocks away from the hotter bulbs. We next went dynamic with three 1-minute and three 30-second poses, before finishing the first half with 15 minutes standing in the style of Rodin’s sculpture ‘Eve’.
After a break we completed our evening’s work with a 15-minute pose slouching in a small leather chair, and finally 10 minutes squatting before the bright bulb-lit star. All done, the entire floor became a carpet of drawings. This evening’s art had been of a particularly good quality. I reprised my yoga pose for photos in their midst before we cleared away.
We repaired to the bar and, with large gin and tonic in hand, I joined Catherine, Carla and the others outside chatting about art, the universe and everything. It had indeed been a laid-back evening, purely for relaxation and enjoyment. I do like life drawing in pubs; nice atmosphere, great people, good times.
With quiet admiration, I looked on whilst Aaron painted a delicate column of vertebrae down the inner curve of Louise’s nude back. Meanwhile, kneeling in front of her, Nikki applied an array of colourful digestive organs upon her model’s slender belly.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
I too was naked, the front of my torso painted with half a ribcage, one lung, a liver and a knot of dazzling intestines. My face had the pallor of a corpse, and other patches of skin were given weird disfigurements, each one a minor masterpiece of Aaron’s. I was topped off with a blue turban while Louise had hair plaited and garlanded with flowers.
© Art Macabre
Together, all four of us were the Art Macabre half of a special BArt Macabre drawing salon, completing our final preparations within the curator’s office of Barts Pathology Museum ahead of posing for 50 Shades of Pathology on the main museum floor.
Having worked here once before for Art Macabre, I could vouchsafe that there really is no finer venue for death drawing. All around the walls on three levels of a single well-lit open space there are curious and bizarre specimens of the human body. Louise and I were to be life models among the anatomised deceased.
© Art Macabre
The event was a sell-out and the museum already packed with artists when we paced round the black iron middle landing and descended a spiral staircase to the far corner. We opened with a brief but intriguing presentation on ‘colour in pathology’ from curator Carla Valentine. Shades of death are not merely grey…
© Art Macabre
And so to art. Louise and I had first posed together with friends at our Babylon photo shoot last September and several times since, including this year in Holloway Road and Lincoln’s Inn Fields for photographer Natansky. This would be our first event life modelling together.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
We were keen to try a few poses in combination but with so many artists seated in a large oval around us – three deep in places – we were forced to work separately most of the time. Dynamic poses of 1 minute, 3, 5 and 7 minutes started us off.
© Art Macabre
Our next pose of 10 minutes was to be our first and only connected pose – our arms linked about one another while I held hands with an anatomical skeleton. Afterwards I provided a solo seated pose for the 15-miuntes that took us up to a drinks break.
© Art Macabre
For the last half an hour we were once again separated to serve different ends of the oval. Louise is such a wonderful model that I did fear my pose might be a lonely vigil. Ultimately I was relieved to find my share of artists was outnumbered by a mere 3:2.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
Rising to our feet at the end, we took our applause together, pulled on our gowns and began admiring the artworks produced. The theme of the evening was colour and duly we found colour aplenty all around, including some real creative gems.
Arguably some of the finest work of the evening had been painted onto our skin at the outset. It was with heavy heart, after we’d parted, that I returned home to shower it off. Another act of desecration. But what an outstanding event at which to showcase such art while it stood bright upon our bodies.
© Art Macabre
My first time life modelling for Art Macabre was as Egon the skeleton clown in their 2013 Circus of Skeletons. That day also happened to be my birthday, and in many ways each Art Macabre booking since then has felt like a cause for celebration. Last Saturday with them at The Book Club in Shoreditch I was a clown re-born.
Indeed, I was to be one of four clowns. Mary Beth Morossa would play the role of Pierrot, FiFi Croissant would be Colombina, and I would be Harlequin – all famed characters derived from the Commedia dell’arte. Our fourth clown was la magnifica direttore di arte macabra, Nikki aka Raven Rouge.
Pierrot © Mary Beth Morossa
Colombina © Art Macabre
Harlequin © Art Macabre
Raven Rouge © Art Macabre
There was to be lots of body and face painting so we all arrived early. Although this was their first time with Art Macabre, both FiFi and Mary Beth regularly adopt clown personas for other cabaret performances. They settled down and deftly transformed themselves with the most beautifully observed, complex visages.
For me the process was less exquisite but more thorough. Nikki began painting multi-coloured diamonds from my clavicles, down the front of my body to my knees and my elbows; then down my back to my ankles. I received a face-painted black mask and was topped-off with ruff, cuffs and hat.
All set, the artists were let in to collect drawing materials and gather into comfortable arcs around our little platform. Nikki stepped forward and first challenged everyone to take one minute to design their own macabre clown face. She then set the scene for the poses we would be presenting.
Foremost in our afternoon’s work would be the Commedia dell’arte’s seven primary emotions, considered universal across all cultures: joy, grief, fear, anger, surprise, love and laughter. First Nikki summoned Mary Beth’s Pierrot to begin with delicate interpretations of ‘grief’ and being ‘in love’ over two 2-minute poses.
While Mary Beth emoted, FiFi skipped and danced backstage. I wondered how she would manage to stay motionless for the artists. When her turn came, however, she faced them down firmly with fists on hips as ‘anger’ incarnate for 5 minutes. I would be next, emotions still to be declared.
First Nikki asked for five minutes of ‘surprise’ – but what kind of surprise? I decided against a joyful surprise, like bumping into a long-lost friend, as joy would come later. Instead I opted for a recoiling shocked surprise, as though an animal was jumping at me. It would make for a more dramatic, dynamic pose.
Next would be five minutes of ‘joy’. This time Nikki was looking for an open front-facing standing pose, so that’s what I presented: upright at the centre of the stage with arms outstretched as if trying to sweep up the whole room into a single joyous embrace.
When I’d finished spreading joy, we welcomed back FiFi and Mary Beth for our first group tableau. Harlequin, with little red ukulele, would be serenading Colombina while a jealous Pierrot sat unhappily alongside. FiFi and I would be gazing into each other’s eyes for 10 minutes…
Normally I would direct my stare slightly over the other model’s shoulder as some find prolonged eye contact a bit awkward. FiFi, however, is never off duty on stage. She winked, flickered her gaze, smiled… I responded in kind while gurning a big ugly grin throughout. We continued our mini expression performance through the whole pose.
At the end, Nikki spared Pierrot any further emotional torment and left Harlequin and Colombina to complete the first half of the session with a 15 minute duo pose. After a break for refreshment and costume tweaks, Pierrot returned for 20-minutes solo.
Mary Beth’s solo pose was the day’s big crowd-pleaser. Fast-forward to when we had finished and Nikki invited everyone to lay out their favourite drawings for all to admire, there were as many of this pose as there were of all our other poses put together – a reflection perhaps of its inspirational pathos, beauty and elegant simplicity
For the final 15 minutes the three Commedia dell’arte clowns were united once more. Nikki called for us to glare menacingly out at our audience. I sat cross-legged on a table, elbows on knees, staring fixedly over a pyramid of fingers. It was FiFi’s cold coquettish look askance, however, that captured most artists’ attention.
At close of play there was generous applause from all quarters. Art was shared with enthusiasm and received with warm admiration. Before disappearing to get changed and wash off our make-up, we all posed for a final few photos – permanent reminders of our impermanent body art.
© Art Macabre
Artists dispersed and we set to clearing away. It had been yet another successful Art Macabre Drawing Salon; the latest in a succession of highly popular, usually sold-out events. Nikki has created something wonderful, and she continues to overflow ideas, each one to be meticulously researched and refined on its way to becoming a rich, riotous reality. Such genius, such moments to treasure.
© Art Macabre
What lies concealed behind walls within walls? Peel back the unremarkable red brick façade of the Andaz Hotel in London’s Liverpool Street and you will find an elegant five-star residence with full modern leisure facilities for its guests. But there is more. This hotel has an unusual history.
Opened in 1884 as the Great Eastern, it was one of the city’s original railway hotels. After enjoying early popularity its glory faded until, almost a century after opening, designer Terence Conrad set to work. During restoration, his workers knocked down a wall and revealed a curious wood-panelled antechamber.
Upon pulling back the antechamber’s heavy ornate doors they discovered one of the most grandiose masonic temples in London. Hand-carved mahogany chairs, bronze candelabras, marble columns, marble floor and walls, blue and gold domed ceiling… in short, a treasure.
And if that wasn’t remarkable enough, it has now been discovered as a venue for the extraordinary aroma rituals of Odette Toilette – ‘purveyor of olfactory adventures’. Her sensual events are part lecture, part dramatic re-enactment, and offer exotic tastings and perfume-sampling to guests.
Re-enactment requires re-enactors, and that’s where I came in. A complex formative back-history intertwines Odette Toilette with Art Macabre, and this in turn has led to Art Macabre sourcing models for Odette Toilette. When they were short of one man, I was fortunate enough to get the call.
The cast assembled early to prepare for our 7pm start. Naïvely I imagined this was a new experience for all involved, but then slowly I realised in fact it was only me who hadn’t participated in a previous aroma ritual here. There would be six rituals in total this evening, of which I was to be the central figure in the first and third:
- HONEY MAN – Honey Jelly
- THE EGYPTIAN QUEEN – Flower-Infused Wine
- INCENSE AND SACRIFICE – Smoked Chocolate
- INTO THE UNDERWORLD – Pomegranate Sorbet
- ANCIENT GREEK MYSTERIES – Sweet Barley Arancini
- ANOINTING OIL – Orange Blossom Donut
My fellow performers were regular Art Macabre stars: Maya and Amy. In different circumstances we would be largely nude, save for body paint and wisps of costume. As this was a corporate event, however, Odette decided a modicum of modesty might be in order. Preparation centred on costume.
Maya is a virtuoso genius when it comes to any form of make-up or costume-based transformation. Similarly Amy knew exactly what was required for her roles. I, on the other hand, got a 10-minute walk through my two rituals and was then prepared for the first by Nikki, Art Macabre’s very own visionary magician, a.k.a. Raven Rouge.
First my face was painted gold, then golden honeycomb patterns were added to my torso, which was finally overlaid completely by sparkly bronze. I was dressed with a gold bandana and sparkling loincloth that from a distance looked like Kylie Minogue’s hot pants. I was ready.
The seats were full and Odette, in her magnificent red gown and wreathed hair, was already addressing her guests when Nikki led me to the temple doors. The sound of Odette’s gong was the signal for me to walk slowly, solemnly, yet willingly up to her sacrificial altar.
As Odette explained the mummification of mellified men, her handmaidens fed me a dozen or so spoonfuls of honey. The first was huge and oozed down my chin, but the portions then got steadily smaller. Once filled, I was led around and laid flat upon the altar, where I was smeared with more honey and duly regarded as sacrificed.
After motionless moments I was then permitted to be considered reanimated, and slowly made my exit from the temple. Well! That had been straightforward enough, and all rather enjoyable. While Maya and Amy continued with the Egyptian Queen ritual, Nikki prepared my next appearance.
I was to be Mesoamerican, once more for the chop on the sacrificial altar. Different headgear, different loincloth, additional wristbands and some black lines for face paint. No honey this time, but I was garlanded, handed a flute – which I played tunelessly in a single lap of the temple – and laid out flat again.
My eyes were closed. I could hear Odette talking about a knife, and then felt a thud on the centre of my chest. Mercifully nothing sharp; I believe I managed not to flinch. Once my “body parts” had been divided among the guests I was bidden to leave, and just made it out before my loincloth fell off completely.
That was me done but I waited while Maya and Amy went Greek, and finally Amy was anointed in the guise of King Charles II. It had been a grand tour of the senses and the imagination, which Odette had woven skilfully and coherently into a clever, interesting and pacey evening of entertainment.
Upon completion of the final ritual we were all invited to return and take an ovation. We seized the opportunity of our final costumed presence in the temple to snap some vanity photos. Our model professionalism fleetingly gave way to childish enjoyment of this extraordinary situation.
From being drafted in relatively late, and having no full rehearsal before diving straight in, I had no real sense of how competent I’d been – if at all – but Odette was warm in her thanks and seemed genuinely pleased with the night as a whole. The guests left with big smiles, which is the main thing.
As for me, I’d been bowled over by the entire event. The vision, the presentation, the attention to detail as waiters brought in tray after tray of fabulous delights, the setting and the theatre of it all; it struck me as utterly unique. It had been a genuine privilege to be involved.
An unseasonably sunny Sunday morning saw me return to pose Wanstead House. It was to be the first session in a new season of organiser Patrick’s Sunday life drawing classes, and only my second visit to the venue at a weekend. The warmth of the day was welcome as it took a while for him to find someone who could unlock the door.
We were joined by seven artists: one first-timer plus a few familiar faces, including one or two from the Wednesday evening group. Midweek classes are on the top floor but, with the building largely to ourselves, we were able to take advantage of a first-floor room that was flooded with natural light.
The session called for four poses: three in the first half and one in the second. I began with 10 minutes standing, elbows up, and hands tucked into a curl between my ears and shoulders. It’s a relatively new pose for me that I’ve presented at a few recent groups. It was followed by 10 minutes in a kneel, as if about to start a sprint.
A simple 40-minute pose sitting on the floor took us to our break. I was feeling utterly at peace with the world yet the artists captured my face in something of a scowl. The hardest posture to hold for any long period is a smiling face. It would be nice, however, if my resting face could settle into a slightly more cheery expression.
The length of pose after the break is always dependent on how much time we have left after the artists take tea. On this occasion it was nearer a half-hour than 45 minutes. I sat again, this time on a chair with my body turned right and face to the left. When we were done I was free to venture back out into the sunshine.
My bonus on leaving was the nicest words a model can hope to hear at the end of a session, from artist to tutor: “can we have him again, please?“
A quick recap of the plot so far…
I took part in my first handful of art nude and naked protest events between 2009 and 2011. I’d heard about most of these by pure chance after signing-up to the Spencer Tunick Experience forum. Then, in February 2012 came a defining moment: I was invited into the Mud Circles of Adam James.
Among the 14 other Mudhead glitterati that day were artist Alexandra Unger – who astounded me with details of her performances and creativity – and life model Clifford. It was my conversation with Clifford on that Bermondsey rooftop, while gazing across the infinite horizon of London’s skyline, that set me on my own path as a life model.
Jump to July that year. My life modelling was still in its infancy when I was invited to pose with a dozen or so others in Mortlake at a Spirited Bodies event, organised by Esther Bunting and Lucy Saunders. Looking back now I marvel at my good fortune in meeting such wonderful, talented, unique people at what was such a formative time.
I was honoured to be welcomed back into other Spirited Bodies projects, culminating with the triumphant Human Orchestration – Clifford also being involved – in October 2013. I’d even shared a naked bike ride with Esther that very summer. London was proving to be a tiny community of friends and familiar faces in the nude arts world.
Fast forward one year. A new Thursday night life drawing group had started at the Telegraph Hill Centre, south London on 18 September 2014. Clifford was among the first models booked; my début came soon after, on 2 October. The group was run by none other than Alexandra. I returned in November, and again this year in January.
The threads of life continued to twist and intertwine.
My next visit to Telegraph Hill was three weeks ago to see Esther and friends perform Girl in Suitcase. As I recounted shortly after, during that magnificent tour de force Esther confronted the life drawers in her audience with the challenge: “it’s time for the models to draw the artists.” At first only one woman rose to the occasion: Frances, a regular artist at, yes, Alex’s Thursday night group.
The present day…
And so, having drawn Esther during Girl in Suitcase, she returned the compliment by drawing me last Thursday at the Telegraph Hill Centre. We were first to arrive and be greeted cheerfully by Alex. While we chatted together about projects and plans, next through the door was Frances – who I had posed with so recently at Girl in Suitcase.
It was a lovely gathering of creatives, augmented further by the arrival of other regulars at this particularly talented group. I found myself feeling a momentary sense of extra responsibility… but among friends this soon passed and I set to doing my thing as I would for any group. We started with dynamic and mid-length poses in the first half.
Over tea and biscuits we talked more about shared experiences, and the perils and pitfalls of running life drawing groups. For the second half I made myself twisted yet comfortable for one long pose on a beanbag. Alex set a strong angled lamp to cast dramatic shadows, and the artists set to making art as a blues soundtrack rumbled.
I love my modelling work and the outlet for direct creative self-expression it gives me. As much as that, however, I love the superb people I’ve met along the way; brilliantly imaginative, strong-willed yet sensitive human beings; people I’m humbled to be able to consider friends, who have enriched my life beyond dreams.
It was curious to be the one observed holding stage on this occasion. I hope it won’t be too long till the stars in the room are back upon a stage of their own, challenging sensibilities, provoking fresh ideas and sensations, illuminating their audiences with light and wonder – audiences I can’t wait to join.
steve ritter 