My first time back at Bethnal Green’s Garrett Centre in 2015 was also my first time this year working solo for Adrian Dutton. In my last two bookings with him I’d been paired with another model, either as a dynamic duo or to share my experience. On Wednesday evening I had 30 artists all to myself.
It can be daunting, knowing there are so many lines of sight to be considered and so many angles from which artists would be hoping for, ideally, the best view, but at the very least a good deal of variety throughout.
The format of Adrian’s groups helps in this regard as he mixes short and long poses both before and after the half-time break. I began with a customary 10-minute standing pose while latecomers arrived, then quickfire: 45 seconds, 2 minutes, 30 seconds.
Taking us to the interval were poses of 5 and 10 minutes, followed by an open-ended seating pose that probably lasted 25 minutes or half an hour. When told “Thank you, Steve”, I made haste to the kettle for quick mug of tea.
Artists partook of their own refreshments at length and leisure, but I was back in pose after a quarter of an hour for those most keen to draw. After 20 minutes seated we got dynamic again: 30 seconds, 1 minute, 15 seconds(!), 3 minutes.
To see out the evening I posed 15 minutes lying down – albeit rather contorted – and 30 minutes standing with hands on hips. Artists and Adrian made their appreciation known at the end, which was appreciated from such a large established group with high standards and expectations.
As always, a lot of first-rate art was produced. Good session.
Easter weekend was petering out. The spare room had been given two coats of paint, the garden got its aggressive pruning, I’d even published a couple of these blog posts, but there had been no life modelling in eight days. I felt dull.
Then, at midday on Easter Monday, out of the blue, an emergency call-out appeared. A fellow life model was looking for someone willing and able to cover his booking that same evening. I was game. Facebook messages, texts and a phone call all followed; by late afternoon everything was arranged.
Seven hours after the first call-out, I walked through the doorway at The Plough and Harrow pub in the High Road, Leytonstone. I was a half-hour early – always early for first-time bookings – but found the venue already set-up. Jenny, the group’s organiser, was sitting on a table edge, chatting with the first artist to arrive.
Warm smiles and handshakes were exchanged. They’d been speculating how I might look but didn’t give away whether they’d guessed right, or indeed were quietly content or disappointed. Arrangements were straightforward: we had Classic FM on the radio, materials for the artists, two heaters for me, and tea and biscuits for all. Splendid.
The only worry was that no-one would pitch up on a bank holiday. The group has had 26 artists attending at its busiest yet on this occasion we were relieved to get eight. I would be posing at the centre of a small circle of chairs in what was actually rather a big room. On the floor was a yoga mat covered with a red velvet sheet garnished with a small cushion.
Jenny asked me to provide four poses: two short poses of 5 and 10 minutes, followed by 45 minutes up to a break, and then a further 45 minutes after the break – although in practice this would be 40 minutes as our partaking of tea and biscuits overran.
I began with standing poses: first with both elbows high and hands curled down to my shoulders, tight beneath my ears; second with right hand on my belly and my left arm extended sideways. For the first of the longer poses I sat on the floor, left leg crooked flat and with both hands around my vertical right shin.
After the break I had a go at finding a semi-reclining position that would be suitable for all artist vantage points, but failed, and instead sat cross-legged with hands on knees. There were a few murmurs of surprise and doubt that I would hold this for a long pose, but I knew it would be relatively comfortable for my peculiar build.
We finished at 9:30pm. With everything packed away almost in the time it took me to get dressed, five of us then repaired to the adjacent bar for drinks and banter. It was a friendly group and I appreciated being made to feel so welcome.
Jenny books models way in advance so I know not to hold my breath while waiting for a return. Even so, without wishing another emergency on anyone, I hope this won’t be my first and only visit to Life Drawing at Leytonstone.
This would be my final session modelling for the students at Albemarle College before their final portfolios had to be submitted. As such, the focus was wholly upon meeting the specific needs of individuals. Two students asked to submit portrait work, so what was planned as a life session instead became a portrait session for those two only.
This last-minute change of intention was of no concern. For me, the wants and needs of the artists at any group or class are paramount. I appreciate a basic level of human respect and consideration for my comfort, but ultimately I’m there to provide a service. I will always adapt for the benefit of those paying to create art.
We kicked-off with 20-minute warm-up drawings. The photos below were taken from a peculiar angle and don’t really do justice to their work. These images were strong.
Afterwards we switched to using colour. This took us to our break. The students were capturing my likeness, but also weaving in their own idiosyncratic stylings. I liked the blending of the skin tones in the preparation below.
For the second half of the session we were down to a lone student who was capturing just half of my face and replacing the other half with… well, I shall say no more out of respect for his concept and portfolio. He has a good eye and skill in his technique, so I hope the final work – which, alas, I’ll probably never see – does justice to his talent.
Best wishes, students of Albemarle, both for your portfolios and for positive futures.
Slender fingers slide timorously from a black cocoon. The top of the suitcase that lies flat upon a small bare table begins to lift. Slowly, gracefully and utterly naked, the girl within emerges. She stands, stretches, moves lithely, luxuriously, like a new butterfly unfurling its wings to feel the sun’s warmth for the first time.
She poses, strong, she addresses the people before her; she is one and she is all.
She is Esther Bunting, and I am of the audience for her all-new visionary presentation of ‘Girl in Suitcase‘ at The Telegraph at the Earl of Derby, part of the Telegraph Hill Festival. Like everyone else here, I have paper and pencils – this is performance, presence, art and life drawing combined.
A small: “Ahem”. Esther has company. Ursula says, “I’m supposed to be the model!” “Oh, sorry.” Esther dresses, Ursula undresses, and now it is Ursula standing nude in pose upon the table while Esther has become the callous art teacher. She objectifies her life model with heartless detachment. We draw.
Transformation. Esther is now Mary, mother of Jesus. She decries the systematic erasing of women from our myths, our religions, our history. And again we draw.
Goddesses come forth. Sabine – third of the performance trio – emerges as Isis from beneath gossamer wings. In her Egyptian azure belly-dancer costume she dances to music with measured elegance. Then Esther becomes Artemis, armed with bow and arrow, directed towards the audience for a piercing monologue. She too dances, slow at first, then quickening to a techno blur. And we draw faster.
Transformation. Esther and Ursula are once more nude. They smear silver paint upon each other, then pink, then blue – soon will come the blood. Black paint and brushes are taken. They paint swirls and lines upon their torsos, while Isis offers up a brush to the audience. Several of us make our marks upon the goddess-canvases. Esther and Ursula hug in colours, and we draw.
There is a final transformation: into winter. Sabine, Esther and Ursula become elderly, they recite their roles, the universality of women; the roles we recognise, the roles we forget and roles we never knew we took for granted. They stand in a line and writhe as the goddess Kali, six-armed, empowerment embodied. Music rolls as it has all night, weaving a mood through the soliloquies of Esther and the poems of Ursula.
© Stephanie Flower
© Stephanie Flower
The performance climaxes as Esther, her face bandaged, her body shrouded, returns to sit huddled and meditative in her suitcase womb. The goddess and poetess mourn. It is over, and when next they stand we applaud warmly and loudly. It has been a rich, complex, compelling performance. And we have been engaged…
…but audience engagement hadn’t been restricted to life drawing and a few indulgent paint daubs on the performers’ bodies. During the second half Esther had announced it was now time for the models to draw the artists: who would stand and step forward to pose naked for them? She’d barely uttered the words when I started kicking off my shoes… but then I paused, thinking: “no, I’ve modelled before, this call is for others.”
One woman – an artist I knew from local life drawing – rose from the crowd and began to undress. For a while, despite continuing calls from Esther, it seemed she would be alone. Esther asked, “Where are the men?”. OK! I stood and undressed. Three others followed me and together the five of us linked with arms around shoulders and waists.
As Venus played, we posed; me second from the left. The audience drew us from the front…
…while Sabine and Ursula drew us from behind – myself chalked large…
…and this was supposed to be my night off!
I count myself lucky; to do this thing I enjoy whilst enjoying such a special event. Yet I’m luckier still to be able to count Esther, Sabine and Ursula among my friends. And in the company of friends, with a nice Rioja, life drawing, life modelling, dance, music, poetry, mythology and performance… on this night the world was better.
Girl in Suitcase is unique; intense, immersive, personal, phenomenal. A rare gift.
The phone call came at ten past five. It was a root canal. Mercifully not for me; rather one had been inflicted on the model due at the A-side B-side Gallery from 7pm that evening. Apparently they were in no condition to pose, so the gallery asked if I would step in as a last-minute “life saver”. A quick check of train timetables showed I could just about make it. The gig was on.
This turn of events was doubly unexpected as I’d modelled for the A-side B-side only the week before. I’d left at the end of that evening with a spring in my step, and the hope that I might get another booking perhaps as early as May. Little did I imagine it would be seven days later.
As per the previous Monday, we kicked off with a spot of collaborative drawing. Each artist drew for 3 minutes at their easel and then moved leftwards to the next adjacent easel, continuing the work they inherited there for another 3 minutes, and so on.
As ever, Catherine Hall was our effervescent and informative group tutor. Differences she brought to this week’s collaboration included: use of brown paper; having drawing materials stay with the easels rather than the artists; and limiting the exercise to just four rounds. Afterwards everyone returned to their original easel and we resumed with more traditional work, starting with a 15-minute standing pose.
A 15-minute seated pose took us up to an interval. Somehow I’d contrived to direct a disproportionate amount of body weight onto my right leg during the first three poses, so I made a mental note to go easy on it during the second half of the evening.
After refreshment and al fresco cigarettes for the artists, we had about 45 minutes for our final session. It would be divided into two poses, with Catherine opting for lengths of 15 and 30 minutes. I would be standing for the first 15 minutes (on my left leg).
The final half-hour was once more seated. For variation I angled my body one way, my face another, and cradled one crooked leg with hands locked on the shin. This longest pose of the evening probably looked the least comfortable but I was perfectly balanced with no danger of aches or numbness.
Pose done, the artists started drifting home. For the first time since I began modelling at the A-side B-side, a little over a year ago, it was a full house: ten artists and not an easel left to spare. I’ve said before that this is a group deserving of success, so it was particularly pleasing to find it at maximum capacity.
I’m the official ‘first reserve’ model for the gallery next week. I’ve said to Catherine that I sincerely hope they don’t have another model dropping out as there might be mutiny amongst the artists if they had me for three weeks in succession. Equally sincerely, I do love modelling here so hope it’s not too many months before I’m back again.
Gymnastics, legal advocacy, mixing drinks… there are various forms of employment that can draw one to working at the bar. Thursday night at The Pigeon Hole café in Camberwell, however, was my first time called to the bar as a life model.
Life modelling in a café: what a brilliant idea. It reminded me of the opening scene of Pulp Fiction with Tim Roth asking fatefully, ‘People never rob restaurants, why not?‘ So, why not do life drawing in a café? I’ve modelled in community halls, libraries and pubs. Anywhere is suitable if there’s sufficient space, curtains or blackouts for doors and windows, and enough local people who want to draw.
Space is all The Pigeon Hole lacks in abundance. Hence I would enjoy the novelty of posing mostly from the top of the café bar. I rather relished this as a challenge; being six foot four tall I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be standing upright on it, but I should still set out to deliver as much variety as possible in my poses.
This group is a relatively new spin-off from Camberwell Life Drawing – both are run by Tatiana Moressoni. Although still in its infancy, it has enjoyed enough enthusiasm already to make it viable. We had three artists seated and primed when we started at 7pm, and the number doubled before our 9pm finish.
It’s not uncommon to begin a session with standing poses and end it reclining. In this curious set-up, however, I fancied going the opposite way. My first 2-minute pose was horizontal on a cushion and sheets spread over the whole bar. The artists were barely a couple of metres distant.
The pose sequence for the first half of the evening was 2 minutes, 2, 2, 5, 5, 5, 10, 10 and 15 minutes. From starting at full stretch I rotated through a set of sitting, kneeling and squatting positions, facing a different direction after each change.
During the interval that followed I perused the café chalkboard and treated myself to a glass of Malbec. As I wouldn’t be operating any heavy machinery, I didn’t feel too bad about drinking while working. I kept the glass on the bar within easy reach and took a hearty sip when changing position throughout the second half.
My remaining poses were 5, 5, 15 and 20-minutes long. I started out reaching for one of the globe ceiling lights and ended with my only pose not on the bar, standing erect upon the floor directly in front of it. At the end I gulped the last of my wine, put on my gown and followed Tatiana in photographing some of the artists’ works.
Fair play to The Pigeon Hole and to Tatiana for the fantastic innovation of café culture life drawing. It feels right and deserves to take off in a good way. I hope they continue it with every success, and more cafés are inspired to follow suit.
Numbness – an occupational hazard for life models. The greater the pose length, the greater the likelihood of it occurring. As such, with the second of my two successive Wednesdays at The Cambria being devoted to longer poses, I might have reckoned upon a slight loss of sensation at some point during proceedings…
I’d thoroughly enjoyed my evening of short poses for Camberwell Life Drawing last week. No pose was longer than 15 minutes, yet each gave the artists enough time to produce some sterling work. By contrast my second visit would have no pose shorter than 15 minutes; excellence would duly result. There would be four poses in total.
Consistent across both sessions was the efficient management of Tatiana Moressoni. No detail was omitted in the set-up, with newcomers and regulars equally well looked after; and me too. As an adept life model herself, Tatiana knows all the right calls. I’m sure there’s something to be said for artists and group organisers trying life modelling at least once in their lives to better understand its joys and demands.
It was important to offer variety across the four poses. The sequence I went for was:
- 15 minutes standing with arms and fists raised
- 15 minutes seated on the floor with torso angled onto a couch
- 30 minutes seated upright on the edge of the couch
- 45 minutes reclining along the length of the couch
The last of these was the only pose after our half-time break, and ought to have been the most comfortable. Indeed, I was comfortable as I settled down, but the first signs of numbness began seeping and tingling into my right arm about a quarter of the way through. The problem was twofold.
Firstly, on a previous visit I reclined towards the rear of the couch and had a couple of artists tell me afterwards that their view had been obscured by its panelled arms. This time I set myself along the front edge, but it meant I needed my limbs held in balance rather than being wholly relaxed.
Secondly, I’m tall. Certainly too tall to fit on the three little base cushions. My left foot was dangling off one end, and my head was tilted at 30° on the opposite arm, cradled heavily on one palm. This meant my right arm was crooked, elevated and squashed. I should have known numbness was inevitable.
Ever considerate, Tatiana had given me the option of having a stretch halfway through, even before I’d chosen my reckless position. When the time was upon me, however, I knew that a minute spent waggling my arm would make little difference, so decided to stay put till the end.
Come the end, I sat up and found I’d lost every last vestige of feeling and control in my stricken limb. My hand flopped around with a heavy dullness. Only after a few minutes had passed – during which I sat demurely flexing on the couch – could I even begin to think about dressing myself.
At least my self-inflicted difficulty wasn’t to the detriment of artists’ work – The overall standard was very impressive. When we were all packed away I retired to the bar with Tatiana and others to partake of some red wine. It was a civilised end to an evening of great art and great company.
The creativity inspired by this session did not end there. Unbeknown to me two artists had used a camera mounted like an angle-poise lamp to record themselves capturing me in pose. The first 15 minutes, plus two interpretations of the final 45 minutes, were edited together into a single 3-minute video. It’s a fascinating insight into technique.
steve ritter 