What happened to winter? During February 2021, enough snow fell for the kids in my street to erect a snowman seven feet tall. By contrast, this final day of February 2022 felt typical of the past three months as I walked the streets of Walthamstow, through mediocre mists of rain and stubbornly single-digit temperatures.
More uplifting was the prospect of modelling for a group I’d never worked with before, at a venue I’d not previously known. Familiarity in life drawing had been hard to come by during the pandemic, novelty was nigh unknown, so with keen anticipation I defied dreary elements to visit Harmony Hall for Walthamstow Lifedrawing.
I arrived plenty early, as always on début, but was given licence not to help set-up an oval of brightly-coloured trestle tables; at the heart of which I would be posing. Artists arrived, I entered the round, I disrobed, and we commenced: four poses of 5-minutes to get us warmed-up.
Pose times then lengthened in five-minute increments. I sat upright upon the floor for 10 minutes with left arm resting on my upraised left knee. Next I stood for 15 minutes with arms folded behind my back. Taking us to a break, I returned to the floor and sat side-saddle clutching an ankle for 20 minutes.
One of the nice things about a first-time appearance at any group is being able to run through a set of well-practised signature poses without feeling guilty that artists might have seen them all before. The second half was to have just one pose of 25 minutes, for which I was encouraged to recline. Cue another signature pose: one arm raised.
During the interval I was asked time and again whether I was warm enough. Indeed I had been warm enough, so I made the mistake of declining another heater. Down on the floor, however, it got very chilly. But it was only for 25 minutes… and the artworks created were fantastic… and such a friendly group! Good times, nice people.
There’s a lot I like about posing for Hesketh Hubbard Art Society at Mall Galleries. Portrait modelling is satisfying work for a kindly, close-up crowd of talented devotees. Short poses of 15 minutes (just the once) and 30 minutes (pre-pandemic) attracted a bigger crowd of keen observants at centre stage in the main gallery. And long poses, well… that can be rather more detached and gruelling. Yup, I was back on ‘long’.
Artwork by Anthony Roe.
I arrive. I adjust cushions. I spread my sheet. I disrobe. I sit. I remain motionless from whenever seems about right. An hour elapses. No sounds. No speaking. A hubbub in the short-pose space eventually tells me it’s surely half-time. Yet no-one speaks here. Two walk off. Still I sit. Another minute or so. Still artists paint. Then one says, “I think that’s the break”. I have been motionless for over an hour. I put on my robe. I get tea.
Artwork by Anthony Roe.
The interval lasts 15 minutes. A voice from the main gallery calls: “OK, it’s time to get started”. I resume as before. We repeat as before. One hour passes. A hubbub in the short-pose space tells me time’s up. I remain motionless. Artists are packing up to go home. Still I sit. Still my artists paint. Then one says, “I think that’s it”. We exchange a “thank you”. I get dressed… And, you know, everyone I talk with is genuinely lovely.
When Esther and I modelled for SketchPad Drawing at The Prince Regent, Herne Hill in January 2020, nobody suspected a prolonged pandemic hibernation was only six weeks away. Life drawing easels went in a cupboard on 11 March 2020 and didn’t re-emerge until 10 November 2021. How hungry for art the regulars must have been! Certainly I was delighted to return, and happy to see so many familiar faces.
There were compromises, of course. Easels were now set further apart, meaning the two function rooms could accommodate just 14 artists instead of 20. In turn, this duly meant they could afford only one model instead of two, albeit with increased pay. But how can one model be present for 14 artists socially-distanced through two adjoining rooms? By posing in the doorway, of course. It’s limiting, but I’m up for a challenge.
We started with four standing poses of 5-minutes each. For the first I leaned forward, forming my own arch within the door frame. Nice pose, but an unforeseen side-effect was latecomers and group organiser, Lisa, walking to and fro beneath me. I reckon it lasted more like 7 or 8 minutes, so it couldn’t have been too terribly inconvenient. My third pose also stretched to 8 minutes, prolonged on request with my willing consent.
Pose four, with arms up and tensed from side-to-side, became rather painful so there was no chance of me extending it. With hindsight I should have asked for a reduction to offset my earlier generosity! No worries, though. Next there would be two poses of 15 minutes each, taking us to the interval. I stood for the first, right hand on neck, left hand on hip, then followed it by sitting side-saddle on a low table.
The second half was intended to provide a single pose of 40-45 minutes. So bereft of socialising had the artists been, however, that our break time over-ran and eventually there was only a half-hour left for life drawing. Just as well for me as I’d decided to sit with my feet higher up on the opposite door jamb. By the time we finished, my left leg was completely numb and I was unable to stand for a couple of minutes.
The end of a session is no time to be legless as I like to see and ideally get photos of as many artworks as possible. I fumbled into my dressing gown, hauled myself up on one leg, and gradually worked sensation back into the other so I could hobble around the easels. Restored feeling within my hitherto dead limb was not the only sensation I appreciated. So many great drawings and paintings tonight! So good to be back.
I arrived at The Star by Hackney Downs fully half-an-hour early. I’d brought forward my departure from home as severe delays were reported on the London Overground, but by the time I reached its afflicted area the problem had been fixed. This was all to the good, however, as I could enjoy a nice catch-up and excellent home-made lemon drizzle cake with Drawing the Star organiser, Catherine Hall before the first poses.
5 minutes, 4 minutes, 3 minutes, 2 minutes, three of 1 minute, three of 30 seconds. If any artist wanted warming-up, they got their wish. Catherine’s playlist urged them yet faster, reaching a crescendo of buzzsaw acoustic guitar as they attempted to capture all six-foot-four of me in just half a minute. After this, at 10 minutes each, the final two poses before our break were comparatively sedate.
The 10-minute poses must have gone down well – when Catherine offered her artists the option of either three more 10-minute poses, two 15s, a 10 and a 20, or one 30 to complete the session, they voted for 10s. That suited me just fine. I stood for the first, both hands around the back of my neck; I semi-reclined for the second, limbs making angles and negative space; I sat for the third, elbow on knee, fingertips on forehead.
As is traditional at the end, artists placed their drawings on the floor where they could be appreciated and admired by all. So much talent in the room this evening! So many strong distinct styles too. No doubt I looked part-vain, part-insane as I tiptoed around, eagerly photographing my own image in scores of variations. But I’ll never stop being impressed by humankind’s ability and desire to keep making wonderful art.
When this booking at Lochaber Hall was offered to me towards the end of January, I was fairly forewarned that “gas fired heating in the hall is broken at the moment“, and therefore the group would “be running the sessions as portrait classes until either the heating is fixed or the weather warms up.” I accepted, saying we could “keep options open, depending on temperatures, for 100% portrait, 100% life, or a mix of both…”
Two and a half weeks after agreeing, as I walked to the venue in temperatures barely above freezing, my game-for-anything attitude was more subdued. It came as a huge relief when I walked through the door and was told the heating had been repaired the day before! Lucky me. We could have a full life drawing session in comfort, beginning with six poses of 5 minutes, ten of 1 minute, and the first 45 minutes of a long pose.
I was offered all sorts of options for the long pose but chose to be seated on the floor. With a fan heater on either side and a pile of soft furnishings beneath me, I was cosy enough not to need a stretch break. A mug of tea – my second since arriving – and a few dark chocolate digestives were, nonetheless welcome respite during the interval. Walking around, it was clear that drawings were coming along very nicely.
We resumed with one hour of the session remaining. Settling back into position, I did my best to rediscover the pose. Always slightly trickier than would be imagined, even with masking tape markers as a guide. One relaxes into a new pose but must use all one’s muscles for an act of exact replication. I think we got there, or extremely close, and continued to the end without requiring a further pause.
Ironically considering I turned up expecting to freeze, the only intervention required in the second half was to turn aside one fan heater that was slowly roasting my left shin. All then ended well. The hall’s heating issues meant full life drawing sessions had not been possible here since before Christmas, yet there was no sign of rustiness among the artists. Lots of strong works produced. A welcome return for all.
I’m sure any life model would agree that posing alone in front of a web camera for an online session lacks the energy and engagement of in-person classes. Nevertheless, experience and familiarity will eventually teach one how to maximise what the format can offer. Online portrait modelling, however, is a whole different world of weirdness.
Portrait modelling in-person, for me has never been about energy and engagement. It is much more serene, and I always feel much more closely observed. This closeness of observation is taken to a literal extreme for online portrait posing as one must sit in isolation with a camera just inches from one’s face. Intimidating!
When the camera that’s inches from one’s face is the camera of one’s phone, and its forward-facing screen must remain active throughout, there’s also a definite potential for sore eyes. Many people stare at their phones for long periods, but perhaps not so near or so unblinkingly, and certainly not without variation of gaze or distance.
Such details aside, there are positives. This session for Lewisham College was my first time working with artist Caroline Underwood as tutor. It began with half an hour of review and tuition, looking at students’ work from the previous week along with the work of established artists to inspire their efforts at capturing my likeness.
I always enjoy listening to good tuition – it feels like a bonus on top of my wages. The focus of this session was colour and its use to realise an idea or an effect. We looked at portraits by Mike Brennan, Raoul Dufy, Curtis Holder, Jean-Michel Basquiat; at colours wielded by Lee Krasner, Helen Frankenthaler; plus more besides.
And then I posed. Not the single continuous portrait that I’d presumed, but short work with intervals for review and more tuition after each. I sat for: 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 20 minutes, and finally 5 minutes. There’s limited scope for variations but I shifted my gaze around and even attempted a smile for the finale (not shared here, alas).
Not quite being movie star material, feedback suggested my more ‘characterful’ looks had presented a few challenges. But hey, isn’t the practice of art all about challenging ourselves? Colour was our theme and colour was to the fore with pastels the weapon of choice in wonderful, vibrant, striking combinations. I was happy to be the template.
Some life drawing groups were determined to keep going throughout the coronavirus pandemic by any legitimate means. Others went into hibernation back in March 2020 and have not been seen since. And others, like the group of artists at Canada Street Studios, are now joyfully re-emerging. It was my privilege to be their restart model.
Upon arrival I was taken upstairs, and led past cubicles strewn high and low with any conceivable manifestation of art-making bric-a-brac, to the farthest corner. I would be modelling here for half a dozen occupier artists. After some impromptu brainstorming on how best to set the space and where I should be situated within it, we began.
I convinced myself we would probably start with a warm-up of 1, 2 or 5 minutes, tops. When it turned out to be 10-minutes, I failed to reset my mind and got a into kneeling pose not at all suitable for that length; nice for artists, but less so for my body. During the 5-minute standing pose that followed, my left thigh fibrillated violently throughout.
Heeding that particular lesson of cause and effect, I assumed more moderate though nonetheless interesting angular poses for the next two 5-minutes, then reclined upon my chair from the floor for a final 15 minutes before our break. After a refreshing mug of tea, I resumed with a 20-minute seated pose that emphasised hands and feet.
With 25 minutes remaining, I asked if there was any strong preference for a standing, sitting (chair or floor) or reclining pose for a finale. There wasn’t so, having the choice returned to me, I opted to sit upright on the floor with limbs forming a web of negative spaces. Thus I remained, absorbing the gentle ambience of weekend art in the city.
I’d only been booked here once before, back in 2019, but then as now I was warmed by the community-spirit, positivity and kindness of everyone present. At the end I was asked if I could suggest models for future sessions. Duly I put forward 10 names, and hope that any who accept the offer are able to share in the same bonhomie.
steve ritter 