Wednesday evening saw me revisit the Garrett Centre to work for Adrian Dutton. As per my last time in Bethnal Green, I was paired with another male life model.
As is typically the case, my first meeting with Miguel was a mere five minutes before we were to start striking dynamic poses together. No time to rehearse or talk through ideas or discuss specialities or limitations. We simply entered the circle of expectant artists, shed our garments and made it up as we went along.
A 10-minute opening handshake was followed by four quick-fire one-minute poses, two three-minutes poses, a five-minute pose and a 10-minute pose.
My toughest work of the evening came in the next 15 minutes. We stood as though Miguel was whispering in my left ear, with me craning sideways to hear him, my left arm around his shoulders. Too much weight on my left leg and too much twist in my right side meant I was in a fair degree of pain from the second minute onwards.
Sometimes very small muscle adjustments can alleviate such discomfort, but on this occasion none of the usual techniques worked. The show must go on, however. I’ll be sure to learn from it. For the final five minutes before the break I lay down on the floor, with Miguel pretending to check my heart and pulse.
After a light repast of garlic bread, pizza, crisps, Jaffa cakes, marshmallows and tea, we closed with a 15-minute and 20-minute pose. We stood for the first, my right arm around Miguel’s right shoulder and left hand on his left shoulder. For the last I sat on the floor and held up a wooden pole, with Miguel poised as if to karate-chop it.
All in all, I think we did pretty well. Certainly the artists created outstanding drawings and sketches from the challenges we set them – their spontaneous applause at the end was much appreciated.
So, you and your colleagues have put in a full shift at the office, the clock ticks round to 6pm, the working day is done… what do you do? Dissolve into the heave and swell of rush hour? Join the slow and stressful scattering to dispersed domesticity?
Or, do you simply fetch down a few easels from the top of a filing cabinet and enjoy a relaxing hour of extra-curricular creativity at your workplace?
At five forty-five last Tuesday, I ascended the stairs to the first-floor offices of a London design company, where I would be life modelling for that relaxing hour. Half a dozen of the team had stayed behind for a spot of informal art.
A chap on a ladder was handing down easels from a tall cabinet to a colleague by the entrance when I arrived. After friendly introductions all round, I took myself to a corner out the way and discreetly changed into my lightweight dressing gown. Meanwhile the easels were arranged in an arc around two yoga mats. At the appointed time I spread
my own white sheet over the mats and we were ready.
Well, almost. It’s the nature of easels that one in every batch will refuse stubbornly to hold its position.
All set? OK, let’s go. I slipped off my gown and settled into the first of five one-minute poses. I do like a one-minute pose: there’s no limit to the dynamism possible. These were followed by a further three one-minute poses, which the artists tackled with their weaker hands amid much chortling and banter throughout.
Next came a 10-minute pose. The drawing of lines – and nothing but lines – was to occupy the first five minutes; the last five minutes were for the addition of tone.
And then a real novelty.
A six minute pose. After each minute the artists moved around one place clockwise, leaving behind their previous drawing and resuming on a different easel. At the end of the exercise there were six works each contributed to by all six artists. I managed to see only one of these works and thought it looked surprisingly coherent.
A fascinating little exercise. I did offer to move one place clockwise each time myself, but for some reason the suggestion was laughed off…
We closed with two traditional 10-minute poses: one with me seated on the floor, the other standing with one arm out-stretched.
This was a laid-back, enjoyable booking. A refreshing dynamic with new challenges in a different kind of setting. Only an hour, but one I would happily repeat any time.
It must seem peculiar to a good many people. Why do this thing called life modelling? Whatever is the point of performance art? Answers may be various, but for me: I find it ever more enriching to do fabulously weird things in increasingly wonderful places with truly extraordinary people.
For example, take the evening of Thursday 27 March, deep in the Deadhouse beneath Somerset House in London’s Strand. Nine of us assembled to enthral fifty fee-paying artists amid tombstones, dripping water, skeletons, dolls and bloodied rags.
This was Art Macabre tackling British history’s Jacobean era.
As ever, Nikki Shaill (aka Raven Rouge) was creative dynamo, director of ceremonies and now orator of history. Linsay and Aaron were geniuses of make-up and costume. Heather and Tiffany took care of other logistics such as catering, art materials, crowd control, and so on. And then there were the four life models:
Carmen Mon Oxide sang and portrayed Queen Catherine of Braganza,
Mika portrayed Queen Henrietta Maria of France,
Alex B portrayed Queen Anne of Denmark,
and I would be King James I of England / James VI of Scotland
Weird… wonderful… extraordinary.
With the event due to begin at 7:30pm, we all gathered 90 minutes beforehand in the designated ‘green room’ to give ourselves plenty of time to prepare.
Carmen would be wearing a wig of elaborately-pinned chestnut hair. My first role of the evening was to sit beneath said wig whilst Linsay orbited around me, twisting, braiding and fastening it in readiness for its eventual star occupant.
Meanwhile, Aaron wove an intricate wreath of plastic laurels and flowers into Mika’s hair. Her only other attire would be underwear bottoms, embellished with fabrics and assorted items of exotica.
Nikki and Linsay next turned their attention to the most intensive piece of preparation: pinning Alex’s magnificent, long, naturally white hair into a particularly complex style of the period. All manner of sophisticated paraphernalia was fastened in and around it, creating a delicate work of art that was worth the entrance fee on its own.
By now Carmen had changed into full head-to-toe costume for a preliminary show in the Deadhouse, providing sumptuous song for the early arrivals. I was rather sorry to be missing the performance, but we would see much more of her later.
If it’s an Art Macabre event you can be certain that at some stage the face paint will come out and I’ll be given a good working over. Aaron, Nikki and Linsay all had a go, starting with a ginger base for beard and eyebrows, darkened in the goatee area and topped off with real hair stuck to my chin with double-sided sticky tape.
26 March – @ArtMacabreLDN on Twitter:
Having my hair cut by @owllady80 ready to make fake beard for @charoigne to wear @SomersetHouse tomorrow eve! #sacrifice #forartsake #snip
Wearing nothing more than a large black hat, lavishly bedecked with huge feathers in the manner of the era, and a prim lacy collar, I was all set.
© Art Macabre, David Geewai Ho 2014, all rights reserved deathdrawing.com
The artists had arrived, the time had arrived, so we left the green room for a short walk in secluded open air to the subterranean Deadhouse.
Carmen and Mika entered first and made for their allotted places in the damp, snaking catacomb. Alex and I followed together, Queen and King, slowly pacing to the farthest depths where we would pose facing one another. All around us was cold stone. As we would both be naked from the shoulders down, we were rather relying on the artists radiating a generous portion of their collective body heat to keep us comfortable.
With little room for large crowds to assemble, the plan was to rotate artists between models in four separate groups. For each group, models would present one dynamic five-minute pose and one longer 15-minute pose. In theory therefore, we only needed two poses to keep us going all night. Professional pride could not be doing with that, however, so all eight poses were made original.
© Art Macabre, David Geewai Ho 2014, all rights reserved deathdrawing.com
Alex and I were opposite and apart for the first group. We began with dynamic dancing stances, and then we sat: Alex regal; me pensive with affairs of state.
© Art Macabre, David Geewai Ho 2014, all rights reserved deathdrawing.com
For the second group we began as dancers once more, this time with my right hand supporting Alex’s right hand, as a gentleman to a lady.
© Art Macabre, David Geewai Ho 2014, all rights reserved deathdrawing.com
With the dancing done, Nikki decided to move me to a clearer space in the catacomb. There really wasn’t enough room around me and Alex together for 20-25 artists to get the view they deserved and be able to draw in comfort. I concluded alone with a longer standing pose for my sub-group.
Halfway through, I was suffering. Not so much with the cold – although it could do with losing its edge – and not even from the occasional drip of icy water falling on me from the arched stone roof. No – the villain was my stupendous hat… or my head. Whether the former was too small or the latter too large, after an hour I felt I was being crushed close to unconsciousness.
Drawing by @silveraj – © Aaron Jacob Jones
I eased the hat up slightly before the next group encircled me. A five-minute standing pose was followed by 15 minutes seated on the floorboards. Aware of my costume drama, for the last group Nikki told me to part with the hat and – with inspired quick thinking – introduced me as Charles I instead of James I. Two kings in one night: my personal best. Charles posed standing, and then sitting on a stool in mental anguish.
Job done, artists happy, Alex, Mika and I returned to the first corner in from entrance where Carmen was still performing. Not only standing without a stitch of clothing, but also singing with the most wonderfully pure, clear baroque operatic voice. She moved with small gestures, sublime and transfixing, worthy of the rich applause elicited.
© Art Macabre, David Geewai Ho 2014, all rights reserved deathdrawing.com
Drawing and photograph by @silveraj – © Aaron Jacob Jones
Retiring to the green room, we shed the trappings of our characters and munched on the generous buffet provided by Nikki’s mum. It had been another great original event, doing weird things in a wonderful place with extraordinary people.
But what is it that motivates us to do these things? To answer the call we crave and express ourselves through our bodies, in beauty or absurdity, naturalness or fantasy, standing exposed to the world?
The answer may be that there is no answer.
I find similarity only in the film Close Encounters of the Third Kind – unconnected people from every walk of life feeling a deep-rooted irresistible compulsion to be at a certain place at a specific time, to be part of something they can’t explain. I’ve felt it all my life but only in these recent years has it found focus. And it is…
Weird… wonderful… extraordinary.
Carmen as Queen Catherine of Braganza
Mika as Queen Henrietta Maria of France
Alex B as Queen Anne of Denmark
Me as King James I / King James VI
My first time modelling at Eastbourne House in Bethnal Green, on 1 July 2013, was duo work with another debutant at the venue: Maurice. We were introduced a mere 15 minutes before stripping off to pose in a hall packed with artists.
There’s no knowing beforehand quite how these things may work out but happily we found an immediate rapport. Such was our success that we were brought back last Thursday for a fresh session together.
We worked through 12 poses for the first part of the evening, then took a 25-minute break for tea and snacks before closing out with a single long pose:
10 minutes
standing, shaking hands, my left hand on Maurice’s right shoulder
1 minute
standing facing each other as if throwing punches, dynamic
1 minute
both standing, me as if throwing a ball, Maurice as if about to bat it
1 minute
Maurice kneeling, me standing threateningly above him
1 minute
kneeling facing each other, wrestling around each other’s shoulders
1 minute
both kneeling side-by-side in prayer
3 minutes
standing, both holding sticks with both hands in combat, dynamic
3 minutes
both standing, bent over like old men supported by walking sticks
5 minutes
standing, both holding sticks in the style of a sword fight, dynamic
10 minutes
me laying, cringing, Maurice standing with a stick as if to lance me
15 minutes
seated at right angles to each other, shoulder to shoulder, me higher
20 minutes
standing facing each other, holding opposite ends of a single stick
40 minutes
both laying down, head by feet, one knee raised, one arm across chest
More great artwork from the session can be found on the MeetUp website.
Not a bad effort for two wholly dissimilar middle-aged men. It was suggested that the reason we worked so well is that we both come from the box marked ‘miscellaneous’ rather than from the ranks of “vanilla 20 to 30-somethings with ripped bodies”.
Given the choice I would probably rather have the ripped body of a 20 or 30-something. As it is, however, I shall continue to make the most of my uniqueness and the chance to work with great co-models like Maurice.
A flurry of Monday afternoon emails saw me debut that evening for a life drawing class at Hackney Downs Studios, Hackney, London. A late cancellation, a word-of-mouth recommendation, some hasty rearranging – it’s not unusual for new bookings to arise this way.
I arrived 20 minutes early, buzzed the door and was greeted with a friendly welcome. Up the stairs, at the centre of the A-side B-side Gallery, rich coloured sheets were crumpled and strewn on the floor, encircled by upright easels. Here I was introduced to the tutor for the class, Catherine Hall.
Catherine was expecting 10 artists to join us but as the clock ticked round it became apparent there was likely to be just four drawing me. Still, it gave them the freedom to move about and pick a preferred vantage point for each pose, should they wish.
The pose sequence would be physically quite demanding, requiring both creativity and control: ‘gesture drawing’ was to be the focus of the evening.
Gesture drawing calls upon the life model to be in perpetual movement, slow motion, either continuous or move-stop-move-stop. The challenge for artists is to capture the dynamic form by imagining themselves experiencing the physical strains. Their work might take the form of multiple rapid sketches, or – my preference – an overlaying of lines in the same place on the paper.
I began with tiny fleeting movements punctuated by five-second poses, as Catherine counted down the seconds. Next we increased the pose lengths to 10-seconds, with me counting silently and Catherine offering advice to the artists.
Through many small movements over a period of minutes I turned 360° several times. More than once I was standing and turning on one leg.
Next came a traditional 10-minute pose. This should have been a respite but I made it much harder than it should have been as I’d misheard the time to be just two minutes. I would not have chosen a kneeling pose, bending backwards with both arms reaching up in the air had I heard correctly!
A round of slow continuous-movement gesture drawing followed. No stops, just flow. Finally, to take us to the break, a nice simple static 10-minute seated pose. I think this came as a relief to the artists as much as it did to me.
After 15 minutes for mugs of tea and friendly banter we resumed our roles. No more gesture drawing, however. A brace of two-minute standing poses was followed by a pair of five-minute poses, kneeling and standing. A long 30-minute pose to end with saw me perched on a low stool, twisting to look over my left shoulder.
It’s nice to work somewhere new. The outer-facing wall of the A-side B-side Gallery is almost entirely glass so it would be a particularly pleasant place to pose in the lighter summer months.
Catherine herself is young but has an immense experience of life drawing, which she shares with lucidity and enthusiasm. I believe this was only her second class held at the venue. Let’s hope the classes continue and become a popular success.
Pau Ros had photographed me twice previously: once for Adam James’s Mud Circles shoot, and once supporting Angelo Musco in London; but I had never participated in one of his own flagship projects. This changed on Sunday 23 February 2014, in Studio 2 of Apiary Studios.
It would be the ninth Flashing Bodies shoot from the Completely Naked ‘visual arts collaboration’:
In this new project, Completely Naked artists Pau Ros and Pablo Goikoetxea and production & producer Tim Owen Jones bring together a production team and public participants to create themed Tableaux Vivants in the only way Completely Naked knows how!
Several of my performance and modelling friends had taken part in previous Flashing Bodies shoots, but my own debut would be Action Nine ‘Ugly’. The call-out for this “closed doors performance in front of the camera (video & photography)” explained:
We want to put a special focus on this action about what it means to be a woman today. With a new wave of feminism, strong women, movements like FEMEN and Pussy Riot and new attitudes versus the old collapsing men’s world!
I was one of 49 people to declare I would be going via the Facebook event page yet, as so often seems to be the way, nothing like this number turned up on the day. In particular, given the event’s focus on the new wave of feminism, there were very few women to carry the flag. Happily quality was present even if quantity was lacking.
So to Apiary Studios. I arrived a little before the 3pm start, at the same time as Glynis who I knew from performance work in Switzerland. We buzzed the door several times but to no avail. Finding ourselves beckoned by friends we joined our fellow performers Peter, Peter and Andy for coffee in the ‘Raizes’ Brazilian restaurant next door.
More familiar faces arrived and our numbers soon outgrew the restaurant. We returned to loitering outside the locked doors of the studio. When Pau arrived even he found the way barred, but – after some phone calls and a little patience – a key materialised and we filed inside.
With Pau and Pablo came a coterie of assistants bearing equipment and a staggering array of costume paraphernalia. A mere dozen of us, however, had turned up to pose and perform. It was nice to get the six Mudheads back together again: Chas, Clifford, Cy, Peter, Peter and me. Another performance regular, Andi, was there, together with Glynis, Michael and Janice from adventures in Switzerland. Andy, Stan and a young bearded chap whose name I didn’t catch completed us; 11 men and two women.
Photograph by Peter Maverick.
Adapting to these circumstances, Pau came up with a plan for five separately themed shoots to make best use of the bodies at his disposal.
First, everyone stripped naked to be photographed individually. Each photo-set would start with echoes of mainstream glamour poses, attempts to be beautiful and alluring, followed by a self-conscious highlighting of features that each found ‘ugly’. Cy got us started and truly went for it, setting the standard for others to follow.
The photographers wrapped up with all but two models done; only Janice and I missed out. This was an exceptionally full-on shoot and I wasn’t too perturbed that I wouldn’t be confronted later with harsh images of my least pleasant physical aspects.
Second was an inverted tribute to Pussy Riot. The males of us, plus Janice, donned Pussy Riot’s iconic balaclavas while carrying flowers.
We slowly stalked toward Glynis and unveiled her. She responded by straining upward with one black-painted fist. Was this a tribute? And how will history recall Pussy Riot, I wonder? For their blurred lines between art and protest, or just their headlines?
Next the balaclavas came off and tights were distributed among the men. I myself was handed a pair in fetching electric blue. This outfit was to be accessorised with a bright green curly comedy wig plus high heels in pink and gold. The most startling thing here is that the team actually had a pair of “wide fit” stilettos that fit my UK size 11 feet.
Thus attired, we set about mock-glamour solo shoots for the third piece. I went first. Being unaccustomed to wearing high heels, my complete focus was on not tottering over or spraining an ankle. Walking was a very delicate operation, but it represented another first for me so I am especially curious to see the final images come out.
We remained in costume for the fourth piece, in the style of a Vanessa Beecroft art installation. Caught on video we synchronised three simple movements before resting in a pose of our individual choosing. Being six foot four (193cm) tall I usually gravitate to the rear of group shots but this time I was asked to be front centre.
For the fifth and final piece, centre stage belonged to the magnificent Glynis…
Four of the chaps – Peter, Andi, Michael and Stan – donned smart suits and stood behind a naked Glynis. They moved her arms as if controlling a puppet, while Glynis crooned a soulful song with a power that belied her physical stature as the smallest, seemingly most vulnerable member of the group.
It was an extraordinary spectacle that drew spontaneous applause at its close. When Pau asked for a second take I thought he’d never recapture the strength of the original performance but, full credit to Glynis, she nailed it again.
The whole sequence of shoots and poses had taken four hours. Complementary wine and crisps had maintained our strength and stamina. That, and the sheer exuberance and enjoyment of the day.
This was creative photography in the excellent company of friends. With bated breath we now await the complete results.
In the meantime, here is the video trailer preview of PART ONE of UGLY:
Sometimes I find myself modelling in a venue that is rammed wall-to-wall with artists. And then on other evenings it seems weirdly as if almost all the artists have decided inexplicably to drop out at the same time.
Monday last week at the Waterloo Action Centre was an example of the latter. This was the absentees’ loss as Ursula – who was booked last time I worked here – was modelling once again. Our five lucky artists drew us first in four 15-minute poses.
After a break we resumed with four five-minute poses, followed by a 25-minute poses seated on the floor side-by-side.
It’s always encouraging when groups are a throng of life drawing enthusiasts. Smaller groups, however, make for a cosier, more laidback atmosphere. This was a nice one.
steve ritter 