A single line. Lots of short curves. Straight lines. Shade and light. These would be the drawing techniques for artists to practice during my latest appearance as model at the A-side B-side Gallery.
There would be five artists in attendance and – as always – they would receive expert guidance from Catherine Hall. While setting up we chatted about the methodologies and pose sequences for the evening.
There is variety and freshness in Catherine’s sessions, yet there’s nothing haphazard or whimsical about her approach. Part of this evening’s work would take its inspiration from the drawings of sculptor Henry Moore; another part would exercise artistic talent revealed during the previous week.
Easels and boards were assembled, paper clipped into place, artists in position: we were ready. I spread my white sheet on the centre of the gallery floor, slipped off my gown and started with a three-minute pose.
Three-minutes, two-minutes, one-minute – practising single line drawing, short curves and straight lines only. We followed this with a run of three-minute poses, sometimes using a long edge of the charcoal, sometimes drawing shade for the first half and light for the second half.
A 15-minute pose took us to the break. The artists would use their self-expression in trying any or all of the techniques. I was sitting on my sheet, feeling a little of the cold floor but otherwise warm and comfy. November’s chill remained outside.
A dynamic pose – one-minute dark, one-minute light – got us re-started. A five-minute pose provided more time to refine the skill; we finished with a 30-minute standing pose that could be drawn in any way the artists saw fit.
In my non-expert opinion, the collected works at the end were the strongest combined set I’d seen at the A-side B-side. Even a couple of artists who had seemed displeased with their own efforts before the break, pulled out all the stops to excel by the end.
One artist who’d produced a fantastic drawing from the final long pose, told me it was only her second time at an art class. I felt this showed the essential talent was within her already, and had been brought out here through a combination of Catherine’s tips and advice, the comfortable creative environment, and a real personal commitment.
This, to me, is what informal life drawing groups should be all about. No pressure, but having that time, space and support to nurture and hone artistic skills; to develop and improve through practice; and hopefully take a lot of enjoyment from the process.
Babylon. A name redolent of wonder, opulence and gold. An ancient empire crumbled, stripped bare, its lands occupied by Egyptians, Greeks, Romans. Palaces reduced to rubble, people long gone; only their golden ghosts remain. And the name. Babylon.
On Sunday 7 September, Babylon came to the green and pleasant land of England. Three models and two photographers converged at an obscure roadside turn-off and hiked for half an hour through overgrown countryside to reach a secret location. Here our four to five-hour photo shoot would be: Babylon.
We came armed with more ideas than we had time to make real; more props than we could possibly use. Still, it’s better to be over prepared than under. In the shattered interior of this derelict site we began our transformations.
Photographers Natansky and Paolo unpacked their cameras and accessories, while I joined fellow models Louise and Nefretari in undressing. Louise put on her wispy white ankle-length “nude skirt” and started our poses with some graceful ethereal swirls.
Photographer: Natansky
Meanwhile Nefretari had slipped into a puffy white mini-skirt. Both put on white veils, while I remained nude save for a black long-nosed Venetian masque. Our first group shot would be an unlikely wedding scene with me as plague-priest blessing the union of two bare-breasted brides. And why not?
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
We remained in these costumes for atmospheric shots at various locations around the building: all together, or solo, or just the two brides.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Photographer: Natansky
Next came a Spanish interlude. Louise changed into a long dark skirt and took up her castanets to recreate the Pixies’ Surfer Rosa album cover. I joined her, pulling on my black jeans, and suddenly we were a passable approximation of flamenco dancers on a staircase. Nefretari, meanwhile, leaned elegantly against broken walls.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
After this we switched to a Roman influence for two poses inspired by a tableau from Caravaggio’s Seven Acts of Mercy – Louise as Pero and me as Cimon. Pero was the merciful daughter who sustained Cimon, her father, in prison when the old man was sentenced to death by starvation. We shot this once with me leaning through a hole in a wall, and again with my face pressed against iron bars.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Poses continued apace. Louise stood on the ledge of a high-arched window. I joined her in a duo. Paolo and I also posed together in the same window.
Photographer: Natansky
Nefretari lay nude on her front across a pile of demolished bricks, then turned on her back with red rose petals scattered the length of her torso. Natansky photographed her from the only high vantage point available: my shoulders.
Photographer: Natansky
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Time for one more pose before a break to enjoy Louise’s delicious home-made ginger cake. The three models were strewn naked over a high mound of rubble like so much discarded humanity. It was a magnificent concept and location, but we needed more bodies for maximum impact.
Photographer: Natansky
For the second part of the shoot we became gold. Babylon gold. Louise, Nefretari and I first applied gold by hand to our own faces. We then dropped our gowns and allowed Paolo and Natansky to spray us from neck to toes using aerosol body paint – there was just enough to go round. Any gaps were touched-up with the face paint.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Fittingly, Nefretari started our gold sequence with an elegant solo pose seated on a low wall. The three of us then stood against a graffiti-decorated wall in all manner of combinations, culminating with a tightly-bound variation on Canova’s Three Graces from Greek mythology.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
In a different part of the building we were captured in a corridor, walking in separation or with our bodies close together.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Nefretari posed solo in the window; Louise and I went head to head on a staircase.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
Photographer: Natansky
Finally we lined up for a shot seated on the staircase before ascending to the outside world. We stood at the top of the stairs, staring out from behind a rusty barred gate – golden prisoners gazing wistfully at the sun.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
In the unkempt greenery outside we reprised our Three Graces, and picked the fruit in this Garden of Eden. Our last pose was occupying another broken brick doorway.
Photographer: Paolo Bridge
The hours had simply flown by. It was now mid-afternoon and we had lost the light, so we called it a day. A token attempt was made to remove our gold, but most would be showered off at home. As I boarded a train, still with golden face and arms visible, an elderly lady remarked: “Ooh look, it’s one of them statues.” If you only knew, dear.
So much had been achieved, and yet so much more remained of our ideas. Which is how it should be: let there be a reason to recharge, regroup, re-create and realise our dreams. We are the makers, and we made this: our Babylon.
“That’s a pose and a half,” murmured Edward… In fact I was merely standing straight, right leg slightly forward, chin raised for one minute. What enhanced it was the exotic oriental turban I was wearing, with two long rafraf trails of cloth that I’d draped over my outstretched hands, palms forward.
The turban was property of Edward Wills: artist, actor, longbowman, maker of exotic objects, to name but a smattering of his talents. It was a grand evening’s work with Tottenham Art Classes that first brought my poses to Edward’s attention, and which ultimately brought me the opportunity to don his stupendous headgear last Saturday.
The occasion was a ‘one-day life painting course’ hosted by the Candid Arts Trust in Islington. Edward was the tutor, and it was my privilege to be his model. We would be working from 10am to 5pm with five able artists joining us to hone their skills.
Central to the course was Edward sharing his knowledge and experience of materials. The artists would put their learning into practice painting two long poses. To warm up, however, we started with drawing and a sequence of dynamic poses for three minutes, two minutes, one minute or 30 seconds.
These first poses saw me alone without props, standing upon a purpose-built wooden podium with ceiling-mounted heaters on either side. I draped my white sheet over the podium and spent the rest of the day patterning it with footprints of black charcoal.
After our warm-up Edward led us through the proper use of an artist’s palette, and his selection of colours. The supporting detail was complicated but the artists’ grounding in his subject was clearly superior to my own. His words were understood.
We saw the preparation of traditional oil paints; we learned the rationale behind a full palette of 11 colours – no greens or purples here – and choices for a reduced palette of six; there were colour pairs, some transparent colours, some opaque colours, while traditional distinctions between warm and cool colours were brushed aside.
The joy in listening to Edward’s idiosyncratic delivery is that it’s based upon years of practice and understanding. His is no slavish regurgitation of theory. Indeed, his view is that more nonsense – was that the word? – has been written on colour theory than any other subject.
Having seen the palette established, I stepped from my gown and posed with hands behind my back while Edward demonstrated use of the reduced palette. It was then time for the artists to charge their own palettes and ready themselves at their easels. They would paint me on paper to begin with.
The pose was to be 90 minutes standing. One leg was a half-pace forward, my right hand was on my left shoulder and my left arm was extended with its elbow anchored to my waist. I took one break for a stretch halfway through but was otherwise static.
Considering this was just the preliminary practice I though the results were strong. A couple of artists had warmed to the task and would have been happy to build on their work for the rest of the day. Lunchtime beckoned, however, so we brought to an end our promising morning.
During the break I stretched my legs wandering around the Islington Contemporary Arts and Design Fair next door. Glasswork was to the fore this weekend. I gave my compliments to the artist who had fashioned a beautiful fragile coral-like structure out of four crushed Bombay Sapphire gin bottles.
We resumed work with another sequence of short dynamic drawings. For these I wore the aforementioned turban and struck magnificently dramatic stances. Alas, I can offer no visual evidence of this glory so I shall simply claim it as such until proven wrong.
Afterwards, I adopted a simple stance for another of Edward’s demonstrations, before preparing the podium for the day’s main work: a near three-hour seated pose. As this was the showpiece I wanted to make it interesting and sustainable. That meant every extremity being active yet supported.
I perched on the edge of a cushioned stool that I’d covered with my sheet. Both legs would be bent but not stressed. To help recreate the pose after rest breaks, I put my left big toe on the corner of the podium, with my left knee pointing at a paint fleck on the floor; my right big toe was hooked on the podium’s middle edge.
Arms: both would be crooked but at different angles. My left elbow would be planted on my left knee; my left hand supported my chin, with thumb and little finger aligned on my jawline. My right hand would be on my right knee, such that its fingertips just peeked into my peripheral vision. My gaze fixed randomly on a fire extinguisher.
And that was me set for the thick end of three hours, with breaks at 3pm and 4pm. The main weak link in my pose was my right elbow, which was beyond my lines of sight. It’s easy to lose sense of an unsupported limb ‘settling’ and being in need of visual adjustment. Broadly I think the pose held pretty well within the limits of what can reasonably be endured.
During the first hour I was concerned I may have made the pose too complex as two or three artists were finding the preparatory drawing phase quite challenging. As the main practice of the day was painting I started to regret I may have caused them to lose valuable time. Edward, however, reassured them it was time well spent.
Everyone was well into their stride after the first break. By the end of the day a few artists felt they’d taken the work as far as they could, while one would have happily carried on indefinitely. Their works were both fascinating and impressive to behold. They all shared common characteristics, yet each had its own distinct character.
Throughout the session Edward gave advice on a one-to-one basis but this was done sparingly and shrewdly rather than strafing the artists with endless tips. Primarily he gave them renewed encouragement and helped them break through barriers. The aim was to provide technique and craft without stifling individuality.
We packed away. Artists washed their brushes while I washed my feet. Four of the five canvasses were put away to dry, while one was taken home on a London bus. It would have amused me to hold the same pose (clothed) while sitting adjacent to my portrait in transit. But I had my own journey. It had been a long day; a good day.
Wednesday evening last week I life modelled short poses at The Cambria pub for Camberwell Life Drawing. This week I returned for long poses. The evening started auspiciously: I found the dressing gown I’d carelessly left behind seven days before.
Again I met Tatiana in the upstairs function room, where we would be joined by about 10 artists. The poses would be 15 minutes standing, another 15 minutes standing, 30 minutes sitting on the floor – then a break – and finally 45 minutes seated on a couch.
There is a certain inevitability about numbness during my long poses; it’s something I really should work on preventing. In the standing poses I tend to apply my bodyweight through one leg and use the other for balance. Ergo I switched weighted legs between the two 15-minutes to share their burden.
While seated upon the floor I had my right leg fully extended, and my left leg crooked underneath it. Contrary to what might be expected it was the foot of the extended leg that went numb midway through and stayed that way to the end of the half-hour.
My final pose had both shins crossed as an X, one arm resting its elbow on one knee and its hand on the other; the other arm’s elbow being on the other knee and its hand supporting my chin. I felt a slight tremor in my unsupported leg early on but ultimately it was the hand under my chin that went numb towards the very end.
Tatiana graciously offered me a moment to stretch halfway through the final long pose. At the end I shook off my numbness, put on my clothes and photographed some great drawings. We then packed away, and half a dozen of us repaired to the bar.
How convenient it is to life model inside a pub. We segued to a fine evening of post-art wine, nibbles and good conversation, in excellent company. Now, after two successive weeks here I can’t reasonably expect to get a new booking any time soon, but I would be a very happy man indeed if the chance came to return some time in the new year.
It’s funny how things work out. On the Monday between two Mondays for which I was official ‘reserve’ life model of the A-side B-side Gallery, I received an email asking if I would be available that same evening. Neither the booked model nor the listed reserve could make it. I could, and so I did.
There would be five of us all told: the two Catherines – organiser and tutor – plus two artists and me. It astonishes me that people aren’t queuing up to join this group as in Catherine Hall they have possibly the most enthusiastic, resourceful and sensitively attentive tutor I’ve worked with.
This was my third time there. Each time Catherine has set wildly different challenges for both the artists and model alike with the aim of producing quality life drawing while exploring different methodologies. Explanations are brief yet comprehensive and clear. Afterwards it’s hints, tips and chill-out music all the way.
We warmed up with standing poses of 5 minutes, 3 minutes and three of 1 minute. I was then to be seated upon a low stool in a single pose for an hour and a half with a short break in the middle. The pose had my legs bent and a body-twist to the left so, whilst not especially comfortable, it was endurable.
The key practice point in this session was the use of plumb-lines to establish a fixed vertical in my body, then using the string horizontally to construct an outline of points. Something like that, anyway. Obviously it was impossible for me to see exactly what was going on.
In a novel move it was the artists’ foot positions that were initially marked on the floor with masking tape at a good distance from their easels. They would observe me from this distance then step forward to make marks on their paper without looking back to me whenever they were close up.
In the first session particularly, they were forever observing at a distance, taking three paces forward, marking close-up, taking three paces back and so on. I reckoned they each must have covered about a quarter of a mile. Catherine too, as she joined in the creativity.
After the break we did our best to put me back into exactly the same position. I don’t think we got it spot on, but we were near enough for everyone to be happy continuing.
At the end of the evening we had three very good drawings, each of its own character and style. One had nailed the tones, another the form, and another the face. Keeping in mind the two artists were using this plumb-line technique for a first time I thought it was a superb effort all round.
I will be looking forward to my next scheduled return to the gallery in two weeks’ time. What new practices will Catherine have in store for us? And, who knows? As I’m first reserve for next Monday I may not even have to wait a fortnight to find out…
For all the wonderful art there is to create in extraordinary locations, sometimes with multiple models, sometimes with outrageous props, I’m still a purist at heart. I love it when a life drawing session is literally stripped back to its bare minimum: the artists and their creative instruments; the model, naked, alone.
A new opportunity appeared on 7 October for just such work. The call-out came from Tatiana on behalf of Camberwell Life Drawing:
MALE MODEL NEEDED!!
Who would be available to model for me on the 15 and 22nd of October?[…] the class is from 7pm to 9pm. We usually have the same model for 2 weeks in a row, the first week we do a short poses class (2 to 15min) and the following week a long poses class (15 to 45min).
40 Kemerton Road, Camberwell, SE5 9AR, London (the nearest train station is Loughborough Junction and bus stop for buses 35, 45, 345 is only 7 minutes away from our location.)
Thank you in advance! 🙂
I volunteered for both dates and was in.
As always for a first time modelling at a new venue, I turned up with plenty of time to spare. I was particularly looking forward to this first of the two dates, as the potential for dynamism and variety in the shorter poses appeals to me more than the naturally self-limiting (for the model) longer format.
The Cambria pub would be the venue – a superb traditional old London pub. Tables and chairs had been arranged as an arc in the large upstairs function room, facing a long bright red couch. Lighting and heaters were being rigged as I arrived.
Tatiana had told me the group usually numbers around 10 artists, with maybe 16 the high-water mark. I think we had 14 this evening, which was pleasing. My picture had been used in the advertising and seemed not have had a negative effect!
Come 7pm I walked in front of the arc of tables, stood before the couch and shed my gown. The first half sequence was to be four 2-minute poses, three of 5-minutes, and three of 10-minutes. After a break we would conclude with three 15-minute poses.
I struck dynamic standing poses for each of the 2-minutes, then one standing pose in between two sitting on floorboards for the 5-minutes, ending in a lotus position. These were the purist poses I love.
I followed with a 10-minute restful pose on the couch leaning over one arm, and then a 10-minute inverted pose with legs and bottom on the couch, head and arms draped to the floor. The last 10 minutes were standing, hands on hips.
I needed the interval to let my back recover a little. On resumption I began seated on the couch, with one foot flat on the cushions and my spine rounded into its back – a counterpose to the earlier back-bend down to the floor. 15 minutes standing followed, holding a flower in one hand and extending the other. To conclude, I went 15 minutes laying lengthways on the couch with my arms and legs over either end.
I thoroughly enjoyed this session. After dressing I joined Tatiana in photographing the artists’ works. There was plenty of quality on show – all of which whetted my appetite for what might be produced when I return for longer poses.
How far should we push it? Those of us who gladly shed our clothes for art, or for the causes in which we believe, or simply for the joy of it – how far do we take our nudity in public? We don’t set out to cause offence, and we don’t believe the naked human form is intrinsically offensive anyway, yet we know people get upset at the sight of it. This can be felt at a deep personal level, not merely the reflection-by-rote of religious or societal conventions. So how far should we push it?
The question was brought into fresh focus when photographer Matt Granger posted his call-out on 9 August for participants to join a group photo shoot in central London. There would be something of a guerilla approach to the work; a literal flash mob. We would turn up unannounced, strip off en masse in some still to be determined public space, capture our shots, then quickly dress and leave.
I signed up immediately, with the caveat: “I’m sure all models would like to hear the exact proposal before committing 100%; we all love what we do but are equally all keen to avoid arrest, unemployment and the sex offenders register.”
Of course, our capital has seen me naked in public many times before, during the London Naked Bike Rides (see 2013 and 2014 blogs), but those were recognised, well-established events with the police already on side. Plus there is the weight of numbers; even the most committed copper would struggle to round up a thousand naked people, all on bicycles.
I thought Matt’s concept might have the potential to leave us a little more vulnerable. It’s important to remember, however, that it is NOT illegal to be nude in public in the United Kingdom. Crown Prosecution Service guidance states:
In the absence of any sexual context and in relation to nudity where the person has no intention to cause alarm or distress it will normally be appropriate to take no action unless members of the public were actually caused harassment, alarm or distress (as opposed to considering the likelihood of this).
In this case such conduct should be regarded as at most amounting to an offence under section 5 of the Public Order Act 1986; and regard needs to be had to the question of whether a prosecution is in the public interest.
Matt is an extremely experienced professional photographer, and it was quite evident he had no intention of putting his models at any risk. Still, one always wonders what difficulties an over-enthusiastic police officer might create, and with what long-lasting consequences.
Anyway, that was as far as my concerns went as a mature responsible adult. There would be no holding me back if the shoot went ahead, assuming I was available and invited. It did go ahead, I was available, and I was invited. We would converge by the River Thames:
- Date: Thursday 2 October 2014
- Time: 6am to 8am
- Place: the Millennium Bridge, in front of Tate Modern on the south bank
The gathering
It was a horribly early start. I set my alarm for 3:45am with the plan: get ready, catch the first train into London, do the shoot, go directly on to my day job, then from there head straight to Telegraph Hill for life modelling in the evening – a long day.
Behind the scenes (BTS)
By ten to six I had arrived at the north end of the Millennium Bridge. The sky remained midnight-black but there were small signs the city had begun to stir from its slumber. I stepped onto the metal walkway and started over the Thames to our rendezvous. Even on the river there was barely a breeze; the lingering chill just a remnant of night.
Behind the scenes (BTS)
As I crossed to the other side I passed a black-clad figure adjusting a camera tripod, and assumed it to be one of Matt’s team. Down to my left I could see a set of figures alongside the river path and decided, first things first, I’d best check-in with the group.
Behind the scenes (BTS)
I checked in. When everyone was there who was going to be there we were 15 strong. As is often the case, there were friends from previous projects: Cy and Natansky from numerous events; Louise and Nefretari from recent photo shoots; lots of familiar faces. The black-clad figure from the bridge came over to join us – it was Matt himself.
Behind the scenes (BTS)
One couldn’t help but warm to Matt immediately. His laid-back approachable manner, his clarity and authoritative delivery on the work in hand, it all inspired confidence from the outset. He briefed us precisely on what we would do, when and how we would do it, and the shots he would capture. Not in a demanding way; simply helpful, thorough and professional. Exactly what a model needs.
The shoot
We would be photographed in a number of arrangements on the bridge and afterwards on the areas of grass in front of Tate Modern. Before, after and between arrangements we would be back in our clothes. For the first shot we were arranged in a line, side by side, fitting exactly the full width of the bridge. As tallest I faced forwards in the centre whilst on either side, wings of seven stood sideways in descending order of height.
In subsequent shots we spanned the bridge while laying down – very cold on metal – or stood in a V-formation, or we created parallel rows side by side running lengthways. It remained dark as we began, but in our concentration on the job in hand we perhaps failed to notice the emerging greyness of dawn.
There was a steady flow of passers-by on the bridge, mostly joggers and cyclists, but certainly never the throng of commuters that I imagined. And no sign of the authorities either, although presumably we were being observed by who-knows how many CCTV cameras. Most joggers just bid us a smiling ‘good morning’. We felt bad for the times we blocked their path when in position for a shot, but in total I reckon we heard only a couple of grumbling voices during nearly two hours of activity. At least one bemused observer tweeted:
After several shots that involved all 15 volunteers, Matt called for just the five women among us to strike strong poses across the middle of the bridge. Later he called for the three men with the finest physiques – alas, I was never in the running – to pose astride spotlights in the ground. Six-packs and shadows; Matt knew his subject.
Behind the scenes (BTS)
By now the morning had fully broken, albeit wth diffuse light through a mantle of cloud. We never felt the sun on our skin. Passer-by numbers had increased, yet still they left us untroubled as we lay bare on the grass in three rows in front of the gallery. The chill of night remained on the damp earth at our backs; I succumbed to shivers.
Behind the scenes (BTS)
In a different part of the grounds we posed standing along a winding footpath. To finish, eight of us paired-up and posed as couples, standing or seated beside the path. I was joined in this piece by Louise, while Nefretari was seated on the opposite side.
Behind the scenes (BTS)
With that we were done. Several of the group would be heading off for a nice breakfast together, and it grieved me hugely to dash away for a day at work. Couldn’t be helped, though. It’s the day job that puts food on my own table.
I walked through the now-busy city streets to a station and train that would take me away. In the train’s toilet compartment I changed out of my light modelling gear into formal clothes. And so to work I went – butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.
The product
It’s now a little over two weeks since the shoot. Matt has launched a new Kickstarter campaign to finance ‘Public Bodies’, the book in which his London photos will appear. His persuasive statement begins:
Public Bodies is an Art Nude Photography Book shot in public locations around the world. Why should the naked body be kept private?
I think there is something wrong with our censorship standards, putting nudity in the same category as violence, drugs and anti-social behaviour. So for this sequel to my first book, Private Bodies, we took the nudity to the streets.
After publishing Private Bodies, I was confronted by the way nudity is categorised. For example I was twice kicked off Facebook for sharing a non-erotic image that showed partial and blurred nipples. This was deemed as offensive, inappropriate and in breach of the Community Standards. At the same time I saw videos hosted on the site of graphic violence, brutal murders, drug abuse etc… and these were not removed.
I felt it was time to move the Private project into the Public.
The subjects of the book are a cross section of society – there were no conditions or requirements to participate other than being committed to the concept. Subjects include people totally comfortable with their bodies, up and coming models, and people who had never posed for a photo shoot – let alone nude.
The one thing they all share is the belief that nudity in art should not be considered private or offensive.
Which brings us back to the question: how far should we push it? There is no tidy answer. With each little push of this kind maybe we help erode society’s received conventional wisdom, that the human body is an object of horror and shame to be concealed, mocked or reviled. The human body is better than that. We all are.
Perhaps a day will come when nobody – no body – need be blurred.
Please help Matt in his work.
Support Public Bodies – Nude in Public (Art Nude Photography Book).
steve ritter 