“Life drawing” said the hand-written sign on a small A-frame board, its arrow pointing to The Dellow Centre. This was new! In the art room, I found a wooden platform piled with sheets and pillows upon which I would pose. This was also new! And instead of a few chairs and fewer easels, there were now dozens of chairs arranged in a broad oval with easels standing close behind. This too was new! What was going on?
Amidst all the change, at least Tim – the organiser of Life drawing in Aldgate and Shoreditch – was a familiar presence. Whilst I prepared to pose, he greeted arrivals; starting with about 8 people, then a group of 6 more arrived, then another group, then another. Not individuals… groups! Such a transformation for this session. I had rarely known it to have more than a dozen artists previously, yet today there were thirty.
Pose times would be different: 20-minutes, 20-minutes and 25-minutes took us to the interval, with Tim suggesting a clockwise rotation of 120º each time starting off facing the back wall. After tea and biscuits we ended with poses of 20 and 25-minutes. I still had creative discretion to decide each pose, so I used the fresh energy in the room to ignite new tensions within old favourites. Tim, meanwhile, reinvigorated his tuition.
Among the ocean of young newcomers, it was nice to see a few regulars. I wondered if they might have preferred bygone times of more space and greater liberty to spread out. Hopefully they too will feel renewed momentum, and be duly inspired. Personally, I thought it was a very healthy development from which some excellent artworks were the result. Fingers-crossed it will be sustained.
‘In Voluptas Mors‘ (“voluptuous death”) was the title given to a photographic portrait of Spanish surrealist, Salvador Dalí posing next to a tableau vivant comprised of seven nude female models whose bodies had been organised into the form of a human skull. It was captured by Latvian-born American photographer, Philippe Halsman in 1951.
© Philippe Halsman Archive / Magnum Photos
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© Philippe Halsman Archive / Magnum Photos
RA Lates: Rrose Sélavy’s Dada Extravaganza on Saturday 9 December 2017 gave visitors to the Royal Academy of Arts a chance to: ‘Enter the worlds of Salvador Dalí and Marcel Duchamp for one unforgettable night in 1930s Paris.‘ And, as part of this night, Art Macabre be would recreating In Voluptas Mors with seven life models.
Preparations
I arrived at 6pm and found two Lilys already present in the foyer. We were soon joined by Teddy and Valentina, and together were escorted by staff upstairs to The Reynolds Room, where Art Macabre director Nikki was preparing the space in which we were to pose. When Angel and Porscha entered our ‘green room’ a little later, we were seven.
Teddy, Lily, Lily, Steve, Valentina, Porscha, Angel – © Art Macabre
Before the doors opened to guests, we tried our installation in different configurations. Whereas Dalí and Halsman had chosen seven women of uniformly fashionable 1950s proportions, we were closer to a cross-section of 21st century London humanity in all its wonderful variety. We explored what our bodies could do and how they could align.
The frame upon which we would pose was rather more basic than Dalí’s purpose-built construction – essentially just a cupboard with a box in front, all draped in black cloth. As the 6’4″ member of our team, it seemed likely my position would be side cheek or lower jaw, although I did briefly practice laying across the top.
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
Visitors began to arrive from 7pm, settling themselves in front of our stage with papers and pens at the ready. We emerged half an hour later, disrobed and smartly organised ourselves – under Nikki’s direction – into the first skull. There would be six in total: the first was held for 10-minutes; the next five each lasted quarter of an hour.
In Voluptas Mors, version 1
For our first voluptuous death, I stood on the left-side, Lily McG was our central figure, while Lily H and Valentina were cheekbones – their knees taking the durability test.
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
In Voluptas Mors, version 2
Having found 10-minutes was OK, our subsequent skulls were all 15-minute poses. It was now the turn of me and Angel to be cheekbones, with Porscha in the middle.
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
Interval #1
Whilst taking a break between our voluptuous deaths, sometimes we would rearrange into alternative tableaux for the gratification of our by-now quite substantial audience.
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
In Voluptas Mors, version 3
Skull number three was a reprise of our first formation. Angel once more scrambled to the high ground whilst Teddy settled down as a lower jaw. 15-minutes again.
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
Interval #2
Another interval. Some of us mingled, explored or simply rested off stage. Others kept our audience captivated with yet more compelling freestyle poses.
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
In Voluptas Mors, version 4
We were now past the half-way point and ready to ring the changes. Lily H owned the heart of our fourth voluptuous death, while I hauled myself up to the crown.
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
In Voluptas Mors, version 5
Skull five – time for Teddy to be our central star. Angel reclaimed top bunk, Lily H was at basement level, and I took a turn standing on the right.
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
© Art Macabre and Drucilla von Burrell
In Voluptas Mors, version 6
Our sixth and final voluptuous death saw the unlikely spectacle of me at its core, with Valentina and Porscha sides, Angel and Lily McG cheeks, Lily H top, Teddy bottom.
Work is done
When sharing photos the next day, Nikki commented: “loved seeing you all supporting each other and working as a team!” Indeed it was a joyous team effort; thanks to Nikki herself, thanks to those who supported us, the scores of visitors who drew us… and of course, to Dalí, Halsman and the original magnificent seven models. Inspirations!
In Voluptas, even more…
…about the 1951 collaboration between Salvador Dalí and Philippe Halsman:
Anerley and Penge Life Drawing is temporarily under new management. While its founder, Tatiana takes an extended sabbatical to savour the wonders of India, we are blessed to have Sara Kuan as boss. Sara is a regular at Tatiana’s Camberwell Life Drawing group, a staggeringly gifted illustrator, and – as I found this evening – a very reliable timekeeper. I arrived nice and early at Bridge House for a 7pm start.
My previous sessions here have either been ‘short poses’, which means nothing more than 15-minutes, or ‘long poses’, meaning the reverse. This evening was technically a long pose session but we started with three of 2-minutes, just to get warmed up. Next came two of 15-minutes (both standing), followed by one of 23-minutes (seated on the floor), which took us to an interval.
After the break I sat upon a foot stool, in different attitudes and directions, for two final poses of 20 and 25-minutes. In a fleeting instant, we inadvertently brought life drawing to the masses when a sheet that was taped across a doorway between our art space and the adjacent pub room suddenly fell to the floor. I heard gasps, but Sara leapt into action and swiftly reattached it. Hopefully no lasting psychological damage was done.
When the session had concluded, everybody observed the custom of putting favourite sketches on the floor for broad appreciation. In all honesty I can say that this was the strongest set of works I’d seen in two years of modelling here. I had sensed everyone was getting absorbed by the challenges, and appreciated their respectful applause at the end. Tatiana can be very happy in the knowledge her group is flourishing nicely.
Here was a special occasion. To help celebrate four years of Tottenham Art Classes, Esther and I were booked to model for an evening of life drawing at The Beehive pub. Furthermore, the ticket price for artists was set at just £4, which would cover entrance and a free slice of exquisite birthday cake. This was an inspired move as it looked like almost 40 artists turned up. Somehow they were all accommodated as we opened the session with four solo poses of 2-minutes each, swapping sides with each change.
After posing apart, we came together for poses of 10-minutes, 15 and 20-minutes that took us to a break. We were in the round, which was fine, but unfortunately there was a pillar supporting the ceiling in the same space. It meant that if we cuddled too close together, there would be artists on the far side of the column who would not be able to view either of us. Frustratingly therefore, all our connections had to be at arms’ length, and the good people of Tottenham were denied our more intimate poses.
After cake and some wine, we resumed the second half with two 15-minute poses and one of 10-minutes, taking us to our finish at 9pm. It was wonderful to see such a great crowd had come along to this celebratory event. For relaxed untutored groups like this that can make the economics viable, it’s certainly best to have lower ticket prices and more people present, rather than higher prices but low numbers. Long may Tottenham Art Classes continue making it work in north London.
Birthday cake by Prestige Patisserie – photo © Tottenham Art Classes
35 years of naked subversion
The Neo Naturists are a live performance art collective. Founded in 1981 by Christine Binnie, Jennifer Binnie and Wilma Johnson, they emerged in the aftermath of punk as part of a subculture with links to London’s New Romantic scene. Together the group performed at nightclubs, galleries and festivals – often unannounced and wearing little more than body paint. Sometimes their performance could be the act of painting each other, at other times the paint would already be on.
They combined anarchic innocence with deliberate primitivism in their manifestations, maintaining rough-edged, consciously unfashionable, wilfully amateur ideals. Actions and appearances were neither rehearsed nor to be repeated. Often a schedule would be discussed just hours beforehand, and use props that were sourced or produced at the last minute. There was never any compromise in the name of entertainment or for commercial success. The Neo Naturists were not ones for selling out.**
Retrospective
From 8 July to 28 August 2016, Studio Voltaire presented a detailed retrospective of the Neo Naturists’ oeuvre; a survey unprecedented for a public institution. To mark the occasion, on 24 August the ICA hosted ‘A Night with the Neo Naturists‘. This event would incorporate film, music, and a live performance by the Neo Naturists – their first with the original line-up of founding members since 1986 – plus ‘Neo Naturist recruits’. Esther and I duly signed-on with the Neo Naturist Recruitment Department…
Preparation
Upon arriving at the ICA we found Christine, already naked and body painted, strolling through the foyer. She and Esther needed no introductions as they’d met in 2012 at a Neo Naturists workshop, so without further ado we were taken to a backstage room where our fellow participants were also fully painted. We’d returned by train that same afternoon from a Spirited Bodies event in Edinburgh and were last to join in. Swiftly we stripped and began painting each other as colourful Neo Naturist farmers.
© Cy Wol
Not only were we latecomers to the body painting, we also missed the Neo Naturists’ talk-through of their ideas for the performance earlier that afternoon, and at a meet-up the day before, but we garnered as much as we could and otherwise relied upon their preference for anarchy to carry us through. Doors opened at 7pm yet our show would not start until around 8:30pm. With time to kill ahead of the opening act, we went out in front of the stage and danced naked amongst the audience.
© Organ Thing – author Sean Worrall
© Organ Thing – author Sean Worrall
Performance
After an esoteric support performance from Jill Westwood and Antal Nemeth, followed by a no less surreal rendition of ‘The Model‘ by Christine with Paul Murphy playing a washboard, it was our turn. The performance was to be an allegory about farmers and bankers. Farmers sell corn to bankers who don’t know what to do with it; bankers pay with gold, for which farmers have no use; but together we all celebrate the harvest and share beer and fruits with everyone present, including the audience.
Glorious chaos reined throughout. Here’s a link to the full video – I was ‘Barley Baby’.
Of course, photos can’t begin to it justice but here are a few anyway…
© unknown Instagram account
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Ba Wol
© Ba Wol
© original photographer
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Organ Thing – author Sean Worrall
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
Disco
After a 20-minute escalation of increasingly haphazard naked exuberance that peaked with corn sheaves being scattered liberally all over the audience, our performance was done… but our evening was far from over. Next up on stage were The Raincoats, who would be rocking the ICA while three judges awarded scores to participants in a go-go dancing competition. Neo Naturists beseeched their recruits to join in, so Esther went first, I followed, and once more we descended collectively to Bedlam.
© unknown Instagram account
© Organ Thing – author Sean Worrall
© Neo Naturist recruit
© Neo Naturist recruit
The go-go judges did not smile upon us, but we were awarded arty matchboxes and a consolation tea towel for our efforts. As the time neared half-past ten with crowds and chaos both dwindling we melted backstage for one last raid on the complimentary gin before washing under a cold weak shower. It had been the hottest day of the year and we’d travelled the length of the country to submerge in anarchic nude performance art. We were shattered – but what a privilege to share: a night with the Neo Naturists.
Reviews
** Introduction text adapted from Studio Voltaire: Neo Naturist publication (PDF 1.05MB).
“No hands!” was the plea as we readied to pose after the break. Therein lies the prime challenge for artists drawing duo life models: two models, two faces, four hands, eight limbs… and if the duo is me and Esther, there is going to be quite a bit of intertwining. So, as a kindness to the suffering artists at cave in Pimlico, when we resumed with a seated pose, we attempted to conceal our hands. Having two models was intended to be a Christmas treat, yet at times it may have felt more like a torment…
It was a merry little session as befitted our last life modelling, and the group’s last life drawing, of 2017. Group organiser, Karen had put lashing of gorgeous mulled wine on simmer, with a couple of full Irish cream liqueur bottles on the side and the ubiquitous plate of mince pies. Only occasional despairing sighs from artists struggling with their works was out of keeping with ambient festiveness, but for models it is a positive sign of their desire to do us justice.
Our poses were 5-minutes, 5, 5, 10, and 10-minutes before the interval, and then two poses of 25-minutes to the end. This evening’s CDs were Moloko (was it “Rameses” or “radishes”?) and Enigma. The heaters were on but generally the evening was mild compared to recent weeks so, despite a couple of achy poses, we were comfortable. Such has been our feeling at cave from the outset – it is a warm community that has always made us very welcome.
Thank you, Karen, Anjie, et al – see you in 2018!
Secrets! Upon arriving for this after-hours corporate life modelling session at a London workplace, my first task was to sign a mutual non-disclosure agreement, pledging not to say anything about the company or its business. The circumstances were thus unusual, but the business of life drawing was the same: I would be nude, and I was to pose; five 1-minute poses, five of 2-minutes, and seven of 5-minutes up to a break.
The setting was wholly unlike typical art rooms, from which I return with feet darkened by aeons of charcoal dust. Here, a large square of fine mesh-like material, covered by two even larger plastic membranes, was taped to an immaculate floor of carpet tiles. I posed at the centre, surrounded by a horseshoe of chairs from which artists sketched me in silence. There were two poses after the interval: 25-minutes and 20-minutes.
I stood for 25-minutes with one arm upon the top of my head – by the end of this time, the arm became so numb that I was balancing it rather than raising it, but the evening as a whole was positive. Even better as it had been organised through City Academy, with whom I’d had a negative experience earlier this year. This was their redemption, such that I will happily recommend them to other models – insofar as secrecy allows!
steve ritter 