For a time it looked like this could be another session to suffer low artist numbers due to the fine weather. Only a handful of people were present a minute or two before our 11:30am start. By the end of the first 15-minute pose, however, attendance was up to almost 25. Life drawing Aldgate and Shoreditch is still pulling the crowds.
After the opening it was time for what the group’s organiser, Tim, calls “three-to-three“. It’s a set of a dozen poses from 3-minutes to 3-seconds: 3-minutes, 2, 1, 50-seconds, 40, 30, 25, 20, 15, 12, 7, 3-seconds. I sequenced them as if raising a heavy weight to my left shoulder then throwing it. Creative modelling! Two 20-minutes poses followed.
For the first 20-minutes I stood with a broom-handle vertical behind my back, holding one end above my head, the other below waist-level. Next I perched on a small stool for 20-minutes with my left leg extended and left hand clutching the back of my roost. This took us up to our break for tea, biscuits and a lot of friendly chatter.
There were to be two poses after the interval: first for 10-minutes standing with knees slightly bent and both hands reaching over to my left; second for half an hour back on the stool, leaning forwards. I picked the poses, Tim finessed the locations. Back a bit, or – in the case of the latter – back all the way to the wall rather than in the round.
Windows were ajar in the early afternoon warmth. Without my glasses I had to squint at the shifting light as they opened and angled in the building opposite – not because of a dazzle, but to see what was going on with the person seemingly craning my way. Doubtful they were gawping at me… not that I care. It was a nice day. Peace to all.
Having tailgated through the security entrance, I sat a while in the deserted reception area as my umbrella dripped gently in one corner. Fortunately I’d missed the heaviest downpour before having to walk north London’s streets to this corporate booking from City Academy. At 6pm, I was collected and led to a large cool windowless room that had been clinically prepared for life drawing.
This is a group that likes its short poses. I began with five 1-minute poses followed by five 2-minute poses then progressed to five 5-minute poses. With so many very quick poses it’s less of a physical challenge and more an exercise of imagination to present a variety of interesting shapes, both in succession and across the whole sequence. A single 10-minute pose completed my work for the first half.
After a break there was enough time left for two 20-minute poses. I sat restfully on the floor for the first of these, then took it in mind to be on one knee for the second. I soon realised that the latter decision had forfeited any likelihood of a comfortable end to the session – aside from the pressure on my kneecap, it meant balance depended on my muscles rather than gravity and bone-loading. But it was nicely drawn.
I wasn’t long into my opening 15-minute pose upstairs at The Bolton, naked with my back towards the door, when I overheard Adrian Dutton saying to persons unknown: “Are you here for the drawing? Did you want the toilets? Just having a look around? I bet you didn’t expect to see that…”
That’s the thing with drop-in sessions: literally anyone can drop-in. But it was another warm and thus quiet evening, so they would have been welcome to stay. A set of five 1-minute poses followed, then 5, 10, 15-minutes to an interval. It surprised me when I felt a slight ache during the 10-minutes as I’d been doing well to avoid pain recently.
After a long break for craft beers and chat, we resumed with another 10-minute pose that was entirely different yet still ached like its predecessor. Taking more care, I then managed to see out the night with comfortable poses of 15 and 30-minutes. All’s well that ends well, especially when there’s some great art to show for it.
I often wonder whether being an art ‘institution’, with all the formality it implies, carries an obligation to accept the burdensome millstone of tradition. Everything must always be as it is now and ever was: setting, format, practice, ambiance. In Pimlico, however, cave is constantly evolving as: “a space on a mission to find itself and its place in an ever changing throw away world…”
In practice this means whenever I enter the second-hand retail area of cave, it always seems to have undergone a new metamorphosis. In this session, the area cleared for life drawing had migrated to the rear of the shop. Over time it had been shifting in that direction, having started just inside the entrance gates and been a bit more central on my last visit. Where and how the bric-a-brac vanishes is a mystery of the universe.
One thing that never alters is the warm welcome from head cave-dweller, Karen. She looks after her models and artists with equal attentiveness, always bringing a positive energy to the occasion. Having fired-up the group, she then gets us started with short dynamic work: five 1-minute poses, two 5-minute poses and two 10-minute poses, as Ladysmith Black Mambazo serenade us in style from the old CD player.
During the interval that follows we’re all offered tea, wine, chocolate chip cookies and ginger snaps. I accepted a drop of red, as is my pleasure, and chatted with artists till we were ready to commence the second half. The beat moved up tempo as the pose times got longer; I sat on the floor with my right arm resting on my crooked right knee for 25-minutes, then stood with hands behind my neck, elbows up, for 20 minutes.
Come the end, artworks were placed across the floor for general admiration. Karen’s phone battery had died in the act of signalling the session was over, so I took photos of drawings for us both. Another change at cave has been the average age of artists; from being predominantly mature this is now a very youthful gathering, but the merry banter has been consistent throughout. This is a lovely place for art… for all.
West Horndon Art Group meets at West Horndon Village Hall in the parish village of West Horndon. Once a year they organise a life drawing morning with one female model and one male model. Natansky lives just one town over, so is very convenient as their female model. I’m three towns over, and this year got the nod as their male.
It was Natansky who got me the booking. Later that day we would both be cycling as marshals for the London Naked Bike Ride, starting from Tower Hill, so it all lined up quite nicely. At 10am, we undressed and stood whilst a tutor offered tips on anatomy, angles and observation. Then we posed: 3-minutes, 3, 6 and 15 minutes to begin.
We posed separately throughout, initially switching sides round a table that occupied the centre of the room. For our first 15-minute pose, Natansky sat on the table while I stood at one end. We then swapped situations for the 15-minute pose that completed our first half. A long pleasant social interlude followed, with tea, biscuits and chatter.
At the start of the session, upon request, we gave consent for artists to take reference photos of us in pose so they could finish their drawings later. We assumed this meant pictures from where they sat, but some seemed to be taking souvenir snaps, and one used it as a outright photoshoot! Nat had to chide him for blocking the view of others.
We ended the session with a single 45-minute pose. Nat was reclining, propped up on the table, while I perched on one end facing the opposite way. Aside from photo quirks this was a nice, serene, well-organised, well-attended session. It over-ran by a quarter of an hour, but no matter. We were soon our bikes and headed for the next adventure.
Nestling under the railway arches of increasingly trendy Deptford are Little Nan’s Bar and its neighbouring space-for-hire, Grandad’s Shed. Both spaces are brimming over with colourful kitsch frippery, but I was here to squeeze my unadorned nakedness into the latter. Once I’d figured out that the large external padlocked door had an unlocked small door set within it, I let myself in and was greeted by artist Joanna McCormick.
Little Nan’s is one of several venues at which Joanna organises life drawing sessions. She originally booked me for this date way back in January, at a time when the venue was less well insulated, so I felt the five-month long wait had been worth it. We began the evening with a heater switched-on, but soon decided it wasn’t needed. Instead we warmed-up with five 1-minute poses and two of 5-minutes.
I loved the playlist. Joanna prepares the music for her sessions with every track either edited or timed to match the exact durations of each pose. Such an eclectic feast. The first 5-minute pose, for example, was accompanied by The Fall’s Bill is Dead, and the next by Alicia Keys’ Empire State of Mind (Part II) Broken Down. Time slipped away without me even noticing. I felt immersed.
The first half ended with poses of 10-minutes and 15-minutes, after which tea or beer or cocktails were taken. The second half consisted of a single 45-minute pose. It was suggested I might make myself comfortable and recline on Grandad’s couch but, as I was only feeling semi-lazy, I only semi-reclined with my head on my left palm. Strong works resulted, including brilliantly colourful drawings by Joanna herself. Good times.
I’ve been modelling long enough to know that heatwaves and life drawing don’t really mix. By some unwritten inverse law, a sudden surge in temperatures will be matched by an equivalent plummet in attendances at art groups. So, whilst it’s a dream for the model to be cosily warm, the advantage is reduced by a shortfall of artists. Such was the situation on my last visit to the Royal Inn on the Park.
As absentees presumably frolicked outdoors in the long light mellow evening air, I set about presenting my best shapes to the dedicated handful who’d paid to draw. Poses were timed at 10-minutes, 2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 15 and 15-minutes during the first half. After a half-hour break, we completed the session with two poses of 30-minutes each. First I sat on a chair, contemplating a balloon, then ended in angles, seated on the floor.
Barrie Novell
Perusing messages on my phone during the interval, I learned the very sad news that legendary life model Barry Novell had died earlier in the day following a major cardiac arrest. I’d only experienced his unique larger-than-life mischievous character a couple of times myself, but had long known him to be spoken of affectionately by all who met him – passionate about his life modelling, a gift to portraits, a true one-off. RIP Barrie.
‘Barrie’ by Antony Williams NEAC PS RP
