The Royal Academy of Arts presented its ‘The Renaissance Nude‘ exhibition from 3 March to 2 June 2019. It offered visitors a chance to: “Trace the development of the nude through some of the great masters of the Renaissance. Bringing together works by artists such as Titian, Raphael, Michelangelo, Leonardo, Dürer and Cranach, we shed light on a visual tradition at its most vital moment.”
Discreetly, on Saturday 4 May a private view had been arranged after-hours for guests who wished to peruse the Renaissance nude whilst nude themselves – to see it in the flesh, as it were. The event had been organised in tandem with British Naturism, and although I don’t consider myself anything so formally-defined as a naturist (I’m merely a naked person when I feel like it), all credit is due to them for this opportunity.
Esther and I, being a little late arriving, found our friend Rodger already stripped to his sandals in the foyer. We did likewise and proceeded to ascend the main staircase but our path was blocked by lines of naked people all posing for a group photo. We joined them in the front row without really knowing what was going on, but thought it likely to be an official record for the Royal Academy archives.
One thing that the group photo highlighted is the on-going tendency for these types of gathering to be populated overwhelmingly by middle-aged white men. I can’t complain because that’s precisely what I am myself, but it’s sad the UK still trails behind much of Europe in creating spaces and occasions where all genders can feel comfortable in their nakedness. Huge respect to Esther and other women who try to shift attitudes.
And so to the exhibition. The two big positives were: (i) some exceptional works were on display, for which the Royal Academy had clearly gone to great lengths in bringing them together, and (ii) fewer attendees at such a niche event meant no crowds and a much clearer view of the art. The negatives: (i) I didn’t find the overall arrangement as coherent as it might have been, and (ii) it was bloody freezing in there!
Titian – Venus Rising from the Sea, 1520
There was discussion amongst shivering naturists whether the lack of any discernible warmth was necessary to preserve the paintings. My personal view, largely motivated by a desire for self-preservation, was that most of these works had survived hundreds of years in a Mediterranean climate so another two hours couldn’t hurt. As it was, the excessive cold eventually cut short our visit and we fled to the complimentary teas.
This had been my first time attending an art exhibition while nude since the legendary Guerilla Galleries happenings of 2013 (1,2,3) and 2015 (1). One or two of those had been pretty chilly too as I recall, yet in the company of friends it’s surprising what can be weathered. Such conditions are perhaps not the most conducive circumstances in which to appreciate great art, but it’s the curious human experience that drives us.
Amongst all the usual life modelling paraphernalia on the floor of The Dellow Centre there was a rope, apparently left behind by a previous model. Well, what was I to do? For my opening 15-minute pose I hooked it beneath a corner of the wooden pallet on which I was standing, wrapped it round my shoulders and shaped as if to be pulling it. That’ll teach me to use someone else’s props; I was quite achy by the end.
Next was the quick-fire sequence. Life drawing Aldgate and Shoreditch organiser, Tim suggested a resurrection theme – as the pose lengths went down, I steadily rose up: 3-minutes, 2-minutes, 1-and-a-half-minutes, 1-minute, 50-seconds, 40, 30, 20 and finally 12-seconds. I think I reached peak resurrection at 30-seconds but hopefully got away with it. Two 20-minute poses – one with a pole, one seated – took us to a break.
The first-half poses had all been in the round, but after tea and chocolate biscuits Tim decided to rearrange chairs and easels so I could have my back to a wall for one final pose. He moved a wooden chair into position then demonstrated what he had in mind by sitting on it with hands behind his head, in a long low recline like a plank. “Can you hold this for 40-minutes?” he asked, “it’s a Euan Uglow torture pose.”
‘The Diagonal’ by Euan Uglow, 1971-1977
Like a heroic fool I attempted the position, but it was immediately evident that my long legs and body couldn’t even begin to balance like a plank across such a little chair, let alone sustain it. Tim confessed that the previous week’s model had also declined, and suggested modifications: sit up straight, bend one knee and have my hands down. So now it was a much more conventional seated pose. Sweet mercy.
I placed cushions beneath my backside, shoulder blades and both heels, then simply sat back and let the artists practice their skills for nigh on three-quarters of an hour. It was a painless pose, which was humane as my legs were still feeling the after effects of my initial ropework. The session produced a mix of fine drawings and fun drawings, which hopefully meant I did well. And Tim seemed happy, despite the lack of torture.
A motionless hour, seated upright, staring directly towards an unclear gaze point in an intensely blurred panorama of artists, each politely stationed within a tight semi-circle, either sitting with a sketchbook or standing at an easel: it was the first half of my pose as the portrait model for Hesketh Hubbard Art Society at Mall Galleries.
A work in progress at the half-time interval.
Everything is a blur to me when I pose without my glasses but somewhere in the mist was Tatiana Moressoni on 15-minute poses and Bella Franks on 30-minutes, whilst in another room Ed Bucknall was on the 2-hour shift. I wondered how many Hesketh members know that these three models are all very good artists in their own right?
This booking, my first for portraits at Mall Galleries since September last year, fell to me only the day before. Hesketh president, Simon had sent a reminder text message to his original model and found she had made other plans. Tatiana shared his call-out and into the breach I duly stepped… or rather, sat.
Sometimes portrait sitting can be a drowsy business, but I felt rather alert throughout this one. Within each hour, milestones were marked by the distant calls for Tatiana to change position every quarter. Time passed smoothly, with some nice artworks being the result – all quite different, yet each one somehow me. A pleasing session.
Artist numbers had been pretty low on my last two visits to The Old Nun’s Head with Nunhead Drawing Group so expectations were correspondingly low for this evening. Among the group organisers there were guesses of 5 attendees, or 6 attendees, plus one optimistic guess of 12. I thought I had erred optimistic in saying 8 but we were all pleasantly surprised to find the final tally was 10. A comfortable crowd for the space.
We opened with the customary warm-up sequence of five 1-minute poses. I assumed we would probably follow these with a five or ten minute pose so I had it in mind to do my shushing pose with one finger to my lips and the other arm extended. When I was asked for a 15-minute pose instead, I stuck with my plan but the extra minutes took a toll on my extended arm. I sat down for half an hour after that.
During the break, everybody disappeared downstairs for drinks while I stayed loyal to the precautionary glass of wine I’d bought earlier. A couple of our artists decided they would remain chatting at the bar, so my prediction of 8 attendees for the session was ultimately correct in a roundabout way. As long as they’ve paid and are happy, it’s all fine by me. For those who came back, we resumed with a 10-minute standing pose.
Up to this point I’d been posing in front of a dormant fireplace whilst the artists sat in a semicircle around me. For our final 30-minute pose of the evening, however, I decided to perch on the mantelpiece and have my legs supported by a chair: one foot down on the base and the other propped upon its back. For added good measure, I draped one arm across the higher knee.
I felt happy with this new closing pose and even more delighted when I saw the way it had been captured on paper. As always, artworks were placed on the floor for general admiration at the end of the evening. If I had to choose a favourite, it was possibly the work below by organiser Annie: a colourful collection of body parts from all the poses, but with special attention to hands. Uniquely exquisite. A highly pleasing session.
This had to be the most colourful life drawing session for which I’ve ever posed. Group organiser, Rosie had decided her artists could work with Brusho, and should need the first 10 minutes to prepare multi-hued sheets of paper. In fact they took a full half-hour; I’m sure these adults had more fun than the Rhodes Avenue Primary School kids!
The floor was a vivid kaleidoscope of water-spray and paint powder, not all of it hitting its intended marks. I simply stood at the sidelines and watched with awe. Eventually it was time for me to work, however. Each artists picked up their driest masterpiece and some black ink, then tried capturing me as I blazed through nine 20-second poses.
I was hugely impressed by how well the artists managed to reproduce my figure in so little time. The next challenge was to paint with the Brusho rather than painting onto it. Very short poses lengths again – 3-minutes, 5-minutes and 7-minutes – and again the artists excelled. I feel this is one of the most improved groups with which I work.
I was asked to make a longer pose next, 20-minutes, with a requirement that I include lots of angles and negative spaces – arguably my forte. I assumed a suitable position; the artists in turn began by capturing my outline on one of their Brusho’d sheets, then used black ink to fill the gaps – I probably could have rested while they filled-in…
Just 25-minutes remained, so I perched upon a stool for one final pose. Rosie allowed her group complete freedom to draw or paint my likeness in any way they preferred. A few opted for portraits while the rest went full-figure. Some stayed with Brusho, others reached for the comforting familiarity of charcoals and chalks.
This was the most creative fun I have shared with a life drawing group in a long time. I would recommend experiments with Brusho to anyone with a flair for colour. It may be quite messy but if that can be managed within the art space then certainly it’s worth a try. The possibilities are infinite, surprising, and very pleasing to the eye.
The wild fluctuation of attendance numbers at drop-in art groups continues to perplex me. Not too long ago I had in excess of forty people drawing me at The Workshop in Hoxton without a seat to spare, yet this evening we were down to about a third of that amount. At least there was room for everybody to spread out and be comfortable. We started with the customary 10-minute standing pose.
Quickfire stuff followed – three poses of 2-minutes, two of 5-minutes – after which two 15-minute poses took us to a break. As ever, a table loaded with assorted breads and dips was set-out as a focal point for socialising, while Bourbon biscuits and teas were available in the kitchen. With fewer folk mingling and munching, however, we returned to creativity sooner than usual, starting the second half with another 10-minute pose.
We had time left for poses of 30-minutes and 25-minutes. Bucking convention I made the first of these a reclining pose with various twists and elevations of limbs but didn’t get my legs balanced quite right so it became a teeny bit more achy than was strictly necessary. I ended the session as I’d begun it: on my two feet with arms gesturing. It had been a low-key session but resulted in some high-quality art.
The invitation to pose this evening came through late in the morning of the day before. Another life model’s cancellation may have been unfortunate for organiser Catherine Hall, but it was a double stroke of luck for me: falling on the last free day I had left in April, and being another chance to work for the ever-joyous Drawing the Star group.
As the clock ticked towards our 7:30pm start time, we feared it could be a quiet night at The Star by Hackney Downs, but a steady late flurry of arrivals gave us a healthy crowd for the night. We began with the familiar first half pose lengths: 5 minutes, 4, 3, 2, then three of 1 minute, three of 30 seconds, and two of 10 minutes.
After the interval came the tension of a public vote: would the artists prefer one single pose of 30-minutes, two of 15-minutes, three of 10-minutes, or one of 10-minutes and one of 20-minutes? The show of hands presented a clear victory for 10 and 20, so we resumed with me upright in my Degas ‘Little Dancer‘ stance – a current favourite.
I decided I would end the evening seated on a low stool. In any pose – but particularly for the last and longest pose, in the round – I try to arrange myself in a way that offers interesting perspectives from any line of sight. Thus, I arched out both my elbows, set one foot on the floor and folded the other knee horizontally. Chin up, and away we go.
It was a positive session in pleasant company; important for me as I knew it had to be my last modelling job for a fortnight. Later, Catherine and I bought a bottle of wine and saw out the night chatting with a handful of our artists. It’s such a friendly group, I love coming here, but it’s probably wrong for me to hope they get more cancellations..!
steve ritter 
