I was asked to recline for the long pose on my last two visits to The Conservatoire in Blackheath, and before that I was seated, so I now felt a professional duty to stand. A plan was agreed in conversation with tutor Victoria Rance, but first I would begin with the usual short format: three 1-minutes poses, one of 5-minutes, one of 10-minutes.
The long pose we selected was one I had maintained for a mere 10-minutes only two weeks before with The Jolly Sketcher. On that occasion, I perched on the edge of a table with my back to a window. Here I would occupy a high seat on a platform that we pushed out of the round to allow artists to horseshoe about me.
Artwork by Gareth Williams.
This pose was due to last 2-hours, during which I took three breaks. As time wore on, my buttocks and the back of my neck became ever more achy, but never unbearable. Tellingly at each interval I could immediately walk out of position, whereas sometimes in more painful poses, it takes a few minutes for me even to be able to stand.
Artwork by Anthony Roe.
Some artists progressed a single drawing for the full two hours whilst others started a new work with every break. Whatever their approach, one couldn’t help but appreciate the conviction with which each focused on developing their unique style. Happily, they affirmed they’re still not bored of me, so I hope I’ll develop yet more with them too.
“Just confirming you are all good for modelling this Wednesday evening. I’m afraid the heating upstairs is not great…“. So began the email from SketchPad Drawing group organiser, Lisa two days before my booking at The Prince Regent pub in Herne Hill. This was slightly ominous as forecasts had it to be the coldest night of the year.
As ever, there would be two models alternating between two rooms. The group’s best heater was put in the coldest room whilst I would be starting in the marginally warmer room with a lone fan heater and a hot water bottle. I managed to incorporate the latter into one of my opening short poses: three of 5-minutes, two of 3-minutes.
Two poses of 15-minutes finished the first half. For the first I sat on the arm of a couch and stretched one leg on to a table in front. For the second I’d intended to stand but in the end I eschewed the idea and instead lingered low beside the heater. To be fair I’ve had colder nights modelling – I felt I was winning the battle for warmth here.
In her emails, Lisa had said it would be fine for me to wear warm, colourful clothes but the purist in me was keen to face the challenge of making traditional nude life drawing work. Nonetheless, during the interval I was back in my robe with hot water bottle held tightly to my body whilst I checked out the artists’ work.
I concluded the evening with a single pose in the chilly room with its superior ceramic heater. Indeed, I positioned myself so near to it that I started to feel in more danger of being barbecued for 35-minutes than frozen. All was well, though. A session that had augured much midwinter misery, turned out – against all odds – to be very enjoyable.
My modelling debut at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich was not for a nautical-themed spectacular amidst briny curios, but rather a pleasant little after-hours session for staff. I was escorted to a large-ish generic conference room with its central space cleared of all furniture, and there got myself ready for our 5:30pm start.
A good worthwhile number of employees arrived for this workers’ playtime and settled down to encircle the white sheet I’d placed on the floor. We opened with four 1-minute poses then continued with two of 5-minutes, two of 10-minutes and one of 15-minutes to complete the first half.
During the break I talked with a few of the artists. One woman said it was her first time life drawing, and that right until the last moment she assumed she would be sketching “a bowl of fruit or some flowers“. In fairness, she responded to the sudden unexpected appearance of a naked man, with composure and an increasingly confident line.
We concluded the evening with two poses of 20-minutes. First, I lay down with twisted hips and fingertips touching across my chest. Then finally I sat upright leaning forward with both hands on the floor. More good natured conversation followed when we were all finished and packing away. Nice people, nice approach, well organised.
How long did it take for this moment to come? Artist Tony Swann had been phoning me on and off since mid-2017, trying to arrange a Sunday date when I could pose for one of his whole-day portrait sessions in Hampstead, but a staggering succession of other commitments had prevented me saying “yes!“… until now.
I arrived at Kingsgate Workshops about fifteen minutes ahead of our 10:30am start, and found a busy scene. With a certain pragmatic serenity, Tony was finding room for a twelfth easel in a studio that could just about comfortably accommodate eleven. An elevated chair awaited my presence at the hub of this horseshoe-shaped dozen.
The day was structured into six periods of continuous modelling, each for 45 minutes. At the halfway stage we would have an hour-long break for lunch, whilst other interval times for tea and stretching were limited to fifteen minutes. I settled on my throne and together we commenced our respective tasks.
Many models express the opinion that portrait modelling is tougher than life modelling. Poses usually last much longer, are less varied, require less creative input, less bodily effort, yet demand unwavering fixed attention to an immutable gaze point. It can be an intense test of mental stamina, wherein the main challenge is simply staying awake.
During the morning, I traversed the world in my mind. By the afternoon, I’d progressed to working out new passwords for my online accounts. And so on. The brain does not have to be kept entertained, merely active. Meanwhile, artists around me meticulously constructed various impressions of my head in oils and acrylics.
Inevitably most depicted me frowning – the curse of many a long-resting face – or just slightly glazed over, whilst a couple had me looking outright evil. I’m not, I promise! All had done well, however, and contributed to making a friendly atmosphere. I thoroughly enjoyed the day and was very grateful to Tony for his persistence in arranging it.
Artwork by Tony Swann.
At the time I decided on a long walk to The Bull in Highgate, I’d not reckoned on this winter’s first major snowfall hitting London that very evening… and hardly had I set off from the station when a paving slab tilted, filling one shoe with freezing water from the puddle beneath. Grimly, I squelched onwards through Christmassy prettiness.
I banged all the snow from my umbrella, brushed more from my coat, and entered the downstairs bar. The Jolly Sketcher life drawing would be taking place upstairs, and I had arrived with ten minutes to spare. Group organiser, Tanja Hassel showed me my pose space and I helped as best I could with her remaining preparations.
It was my first time visiting this pub. Something about its name – “The Bull” – had me imagining a gloomy spit-and-sawdust place, yet here I was nude beneath chandeliers with a soft carpet under my feet, enclosed by pale turquoise walls. Well, it’s Highgate after all. Oh, and the poses? Two of 5-minutes, two of 10, and two of 15 to begin.
A single hour-long pose – or more likely 55-minutes – completed the session after our break. I settled into a very comfortable seated position, so when Tanja offered me the chance to stretch midway through, I was happy just to carry on. Happiness increased further at the end when I found my wet shoe and sock had dried. Complete success!
For a time, when life drawing moved from what was once a vast church hall space on the ground floor of the Garrett Centre, down into its community workshop basement, each session was split between two rooms with two booked models…
These days there’s only one model in one room, but I thought: how that second room would have been handy tonight! Through all my five and a half years of bookings here, I’d never seen so many people turn up to create art.
Group organiser, Adrian Dutton did an extraordinary job of welcoming everyone and finding enough room for each person to observe and draw. My central space with two large gym mats seemed luxurious accommodation for one, yet utterly walled-in.
When the session started at 7pm, I opened with a 15-minute standing pose. I located the optimum off-centre spot from which to give the clearest views along the maximum number of sight-lines. Five 1-minutes poses followed, then 5, 10 and 20-minutes.
© Adrian Dutton life drawing (Instagram)
After our break for hot dhal, tea, wine, custard creams and jelly babies, we concluded the evening with poses of 20-minutes and 30-minutes. Concentration in the room was palpable. It’s an environment in which I love to work; friendly crowd, inspiring focus.
Bo Diddley on play and optimism for a full house greeted me on my arrival at The Old Nun’s Head. Vagaries of the London life drawing scene, however, meant we didn’t get the masses who attended the week before, but it was still busier than my last visit.
We began the session with five 1-minute warm-up poses. Artists captured loose lines whilst I created various angles. Next I stood for 15-minutes, and – with no consensus on pose times for the next half-hour – I suggested two more 15-minuters to follow.
That concluded the first half. Forty-five minutes remained for us after the break, so we started with a 10-minute standing pose. As per another previous visit, I took up one of the pub’s candle lamps and struck a dramatic, if somewhat Dickensian stance.
For our remaining 35-minutes I sat down on pillows. It was a comfortable way to close the evening. I enjoy immersing in the music played here, and the serene spell was not even broken by raucous ‘Drag Bingo’ that had come to life downstairs.
Whatever the circumstances, Nunhead Drawing Group has wonderful sessions run by very nice people with fine taste in music, set in the atmospheric function room of a characterful London pub. Recommended for a top Tuesday night in south of the river.
steve ritter 