I arrived twenty minutes early at the studio of an architecture practice in south London for my debut as life model with Figuration – creative community makers of art events. As the working day ended, office staff began to set out drawing materials and prepare a mouth-watering buffet of grapes, cheeses, crackers and wine. A little before 6pm we were joined by our tutor Martin, and when the hour came… everyone descended upon the refreshments! It was just too tempting. I even partook of the Rioja myself.
So the life drawing itself started 25 minutes late, but in very fine spirits. It was a warm evening. Martin had brought music and selected a mellow, upbeat bossa nova playlist. We opened with poses of 5-minutes, 10, 12-minutes with me standing or seated on a long boardroom-style table while those drawing me sat either side. Martin allowed me to pick the poses and adapted his tuition accordingly, pointing out angles, alignments, negative space and weight distribution – just a light touch to get people thinking.
Particular consideration was given to the use of colour – those that stand forward, and those that create depth. The second half also contrived practice for weaker hands as I stood for 12-minutes, then back on favoured hands I sat twice for 10-minutes, bringing the session to a close. The atmosphere in the room remained friendly, communicative and relaxed throughout; hopefully that’s how it is during working hours too. Certainly it made for one of the nicest corporate bookings I’ve been given.
Life drawing at cave has moved from Thursday evenings to Tuesdays, and as a result my booking for the end of May became two: first at the beginning of May then another at the beginning of June. I arrived early, rang the outer bell, and peeped Chad-like over the gate. As always, I was greeted warmly by cave supremo, Karen and we bantered whilst waiting for artists to breeze in. When all had settled, I started with short poses.
Five 1-minutes poses, two 5-minute poses and two 10-minute poses occupied the first half. With my back to a wall I went through a semi-spontaneous repertoire of standing, kneeling, squatting and semi-reclining positions. At the interval, we all got mugs of tea and – pure bliss – mini scones with fresh clotted cream and jam. Such an unexpected treat… it’s the simple pleasures. Two 25-minute poses occupied the second half.
The only basic positions I hadn’t presented thus far were sitting and laying down. Duly I completed the set with these last two poses. A heater was whirring away next to me but cave is a truly warm-hearted space in its own right. Tonight’s throwback CDs were by Bob Marley and Hue and Cry – that latter had me guessing! Unlikely music is all part of the charm at Pimlico’s ‘artist-led retail space‘. Every visit is a pleasure.
“Are you going to write horrible things about me?” asked tutor Victoria Rance. In jest, I replied, “Of course!” …but of course not really. We were talking during the final break of what had been a rather uncomfortable 2-hour pose. In fairness, I’d been gifted some very simple long poses for my February and March visits to The Conservatoire so I was due a tougher shift, First, however, the short poses: 1, 1, 1, 5 and 10-minutes.
Before we started, while artists were still arriving, Victoria demonstrated the long pose she wanted me to attempt: sitting down, leaning forward, with one forearm across one leg and my forehead resting upon the arm. Appropriately, it was to represent ‘despair‘. Cometh the hour, I sat on wooden steps and fidgeted to find a sustainable attitude yet couldn’t quite make it satisfactory. Time was pressing, however, so I settled in haste.
The mistake – as I discovered during the course of the first twenty minutes – was that either I needed to be sitting farther back on the step or to have my feet planted further away from my body. As it was, with one foot angled back and my head over my shins, it meant my centre of gravity was too far forwards and my legs would have to strain all evening to prevent me from slipping. The second 20-25 minutes was the worst.
It’s funny to look at the photos now as I can’t see anything amiss, but trust me when I say every physicality has limits within which it can be rearranged in complete comfort. Go beyond that threshold by even the tiniest degree, however, and discomfort will take a grip, eventually amplifying to a point where no amount of minor muscle manipulation will bring relief. Never mind, though! Artists appreciated the effort and captured it well.
There are life drawing sessions at The Dellow Centre, Whitechapel on Saturdays from 11:30am to 1:50pm, and Sundays from 2:30pm to 4:50pm. I’ve modelled several times for the Sunday group, but this was my first booking of a Saturday morning. The layout was exactly the same, however; I started by standing for quarter of an hour.
This 15-minute opener was intended to afford more settling-in time for latecomers, yet they were still arriving well into pose three. By then they’d missed me standing with a wooden pole across my shoulders for 10-minutes, and most of the 20-minute pose on a stool that followed. To end the first half, I sat on the floor for 22-minutes.
After tea and biscuits a vote was held on whether the second half would comprise two poses or a single long one. Two 20-minute poses carried the day by three to one, with about seven abstentions. I was minded to stand for the first of these but was asked to lay down instead. Fine by me. I threw in a twist and some angles for good measure.
For the final pose, I was given a wooden chair and a cushion to sit upon. I hooked one arm over its back, set the other across my belly, zigzagged my legs and thus saw out what was left of a pleasant afternoon’s work. In particular, it was good to share with so many familiar faces from other London art groups. Nice times.
Portrait work is the one form of modelling for which I routinely pose in my own clothes. The first time I sat for portrait artists at Hesketh Hubbard Art Society I wore a white shirt with black waistcoat. The second time I chose a loose-fitting, open-necked shirt in deepest turquoise. Third time? Oh, decisions, decisions. I opted for blue again.
It came down to a choice between hippy white, collarless yellow, stripy orange or dark blue smart-casual; a last-minute whim steered me to the latter. I decided it would work best with my newly slicked-back hair and brief flirtation with sideburns. Of course if I’m given enough bookings, I dare say I’ll eventually pose in each. Palettes at the ready…
Insufficient sleep the night before did not bode well for 2-hours of attentive wakefulness with a fixed gaze and unwavering expression. Charcoal scratches, occasional coughs, random phone pings, time calls every quarter of an hour – these alone would not keep my eyelids from flickering, so once again I set myself distracting mental challenges.
Psychologically the task is easier after half-time tea and biscuits; it’s that ‘all downhill from here’ feeling. As I cogitated words for another blog I was writing, the time passed painlessly. Come the end, I recorded them on paper but not before checking out some very impressive works. This was a good evening to be in the chair at Mall Galleries.
Thirty chairs were set in a quarter circle of radiating ranks that faced one corner of the room. Their eyeless attention was directed towards a vintage suitcase that lay across two small square tables pressed against a cold fireplace. A brace of large gongs were hanging adjacent, surrounded by an array of bowls, pipes and percussion instruments; the tools of a soundbath maestro. We had lights, we had cameras, and it was time for a little action. It was time for…
Girl in Suitcase is Esther Bunting. It is an ever-evolving performance that celebrates female power and the natural human body through story-telling, theatre, dance, music, life art, and audience participation. For this return visit to The Telegraph at The Earl of Derby for the Telegraph Hill Festival, Esther would be ‘Lady Summerisle’, joined by Soulwaves sound artist Sarah Kent, our friend Cy and me: “with the turning of the season and the shedding of a skin, we let go of old ways and usher in the new.”
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
In my guise as an unlikely Lord Summerisle – figure-hugging dress, wild hair, lashings of mascara – I closed the suitcase with Lady Summerisle curled inside and sashayed downstairs to signal time for ticket-holders to enter. Speed was of the essence, albeit a theatrically nonchalant speed. Everybody was welcomed and invited to take drawing materials, though many brought their own. When the last latecomer had settled I gave a sign for Sarah to take up her penny whistle and begin playing ‘We’ll meet again‘.
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
Artiste! Surrealiste! Improvisateuse!
This was to be a show in four parts; starting with wartime surrealism, moving on to the modern muse, flaring with ferocious feminism and culminating with the construction of a highly unusual sacrifice. When Sarah’s penny whistle and my accompanying kazoo fell silent, Cy stepped forth as Roland Penrose to introduce an extraordinary refugee from 1940s Paris, that he’d found in an unattended suitcase – “An artiste! Surrealiste! Improvisateuse!” – and at long last Esther could come up for air.
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
Perfect me in pastel! Ignite me in ink!
Esther’s dress and mask, together with my own and other masks in the show, had all been handmade by genius designer, Estelle Riviere Monsterlune. So exquisite was the crimson devil outfit worn by Esther whilst portraying her own fictional grandmother, that only the artist in her natural state could be an improvement. As Sarah gave a last rendition of ‘We’ll meet again‘, so Lady Summerisle peeled out of layers and began to share her own stories as a modern-day life model.
Nude standing poses, movement to the sounds of a gong bath, shawls and a pink hat for nostalgia… whilst a captivated audience sat sketching, or simply entranced. In the midst of it all, an invitation was extended for one of them to try modelling. Hands were raised and one volunteer selected; he undressed and stood bare for 5-minutes. Before the first half ended, a second volunteer was summoned and he too posed naked while wave after wave of gong shimmers engulfed us. Both first-timers, they did very well.
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
Do not underestimate the power
A short interval allowed our audience to descend as one and recharge their glasses at the bar while the performers changed costume. For Esther, this meant covering up; for me and Cy, it meant quite the reverse. When all had returned to their chairs, the three of us re-entered the room. Esther climbed onto the tables and – with a naked masked man standing either side in a surrealist court of law – delivered an impassioned call to action for every woman: “…wear whatever the fuck you like and join the revolution!”
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
Our wicker person! Who is willing?
The words “Testimony… Sacrifice… Rebirth” on the event’s advertising, along with the presence of Lady and Lord Summerisle, may have suggested a probable denouement to fans of legendary 1973 movie, ‘The Wicker Man‘. We would build a wicker person! Out of naked bodies! More volunteers – good friends, all – emerged from the audience and were assembled into tableaux that could be held for 5 or 10-minutes. Artists drew each wondrous construction whilst Esther and Sarah made music.
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
There were four wicker persons in total, starting with four volunteers creating a head, a body and two arms. By the end they’d gained two legs and even had myself appended as a spare limb. Esther and Sarah played ‘Gently Johnny‘ on violins, and later Sarah played pipes while Esther sang ‘How do (Willow’s song)‘. It was a magical, beautiful finale to a special performance that had been embraced in a warm, joyful spirit of body positivity. Esther gave her thanks and took heartfelt applause. Bravo, Girl in Suitcase!
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
Let us look at people’s drawings
We’d expected the performance might last 90-minutes but ultimately it ran for 2-hours. Everybody present was invited to draw throughout and some marvellously characterful sketches emerged. Thank you to all who shared their work!
© Irene Lafferty photo and drawing
© Ruty Benjamini photo and drawing
© Irene Lafferty photo and drawing
© Sophie Park photo and drawing
© Sophie Park photo and drawing
© Sophie Park photo and drawing
© Irene Lafferty photo and drawing
© Ruty Benjamini photo and drawing
Cast and credits
Created and performed by:
- Esther Bunting – largely autobiographical writing, with a little fantasy
- Sarah Kent – Soulwaves sound shaman
With the hugely appreciated support of:
- Cy Wol – Roland Penrose
- Steve Ritter – Lord Summerisle
- Estelle Riviere Monsterlune – costumes
- Lidia – filming
- Judit Prieto Rovira – photography
- all at Telegraph Hill Festival
- The Telegraph at The Earl of Derby and all who work there
- Aladdin’s Cave London for the suitcase
Esther’s inspirations:
- the many artists and classes for whom I’ve had the privilege to model
- ‘The Militant Muse‘ by Whitney Chadwick – a gift from Valentina Rock
- ‘Crappy Living‘ blog and the incredible woman who writes it – some text in Scene 3 was used with kind permission from ‘How to look good at forty and overthrow your government‘, a post shared by Lucy Saunders
- ‘The Wicker Man‘ original film and all who created it
- my father Edward for the violin
- my mother Sara, and all my grandmothers, for their stories
I’m not an actor. I wince as I recall missing part of my only significant line and coming in too early with my kazoo… yet my intonations in the style of Christopher Lee were appreciated, and of course everyone loved the dress. OK, I can be a show-off, and I’m always happy to donate my body for art, but really I derive most joy simply from being able to work with such talented people and support Esther in her creation of incredible performances. Girl in Suitcase is Esther Bunting.
© Judit Prieto Rovira photo
This corporate booking was unforgettable even before it began. City Academy made the arrangements; they asked me to arrive half an hour early, emailed me a reminder three days before, phoned me the day before, and then phoned and emailed with just twenty minutes to go. I suspect this high level of attention was due to some previous model having failed to show up or give notice. They need not have worried, though.
We started with five 1-minute poses…
…followed by five 2-minute poses…
…and continued with five 5-minutes poses….
…leaving time for just a single 10-minute pose to end the first half.
It’s fortunate that the opportunity to create many quick poses is always quite inspiring for me as the pose space itself offered little sensory stimulation. The large silent room was without any source of natural light; there was no music, no chatter, no countdown of time, no temperature fluctuations or uneven flooring, just a phone beep that signified when it was time to change pose, plus the diligent scratchings of half a dozen artists.
After a break that lasted slightly longer than expected, we had time for two 20-minute poses that would complete the session. First I sat side-saddle on the floor and tipped back on my hands, numbing my left arm in the process. Finally I stood with one hand on my neck and the other (numb) hand on my hip. There were smiles at the end, and hopefully everyone was happy. Certainly I was… even in such a curious environment.
steve ritter 