I’ve modelled regularly for Adrian Dutton’s groups at Eastbourne House in Bethnal Green over many years, yet circumstances contrived that a full 364 days had passed since my last visit – I’d had to decline bookings for January, April and September due to prior commitments. Now at long last I was back but it had been so long that I found myself feeling an unexpected twinge of nerves.
Butterflies speedily departed as I entered the familiar surroundings of this ever-popular venue. The high ceiling, the square of seats that would accommodate about 30 artists this evening, the stage with more seats plus an area for me to undress, and of course the central space with mats, cushions and a spotlight, all as I remembered it. Equally familiar was our opening routine: 10-minutes standing, followed by quick poses.
After three 2-minute poses, we completed the first half with two of 5-minutes and two of 15-minutes. Thursdays are cheese and wine nights so, with measured haste, I put on my dressing gown and glided to where a table in the foyer was groaning under the weight of tasty fare. After I’d charged my plate and cup, I returned to the main hall for a meander around unattended artworks before huddling down to eat beside a heater.
I rather fancied starting the second half squatting upon the top of an upended wooden block for 10-minutes… so it was agreed that I could resume in this way and then see off the session with poses of 20-minutes and 30-minutes. Duly I stood and sat askew upon a stool. At the end, drawings were set out across the floor, and there was much to be admired. I hope I’m able to come back sooner next year.
In my childhood memories the last day of any school term was ‘toy day‘. It was a day when kids were allowed to play with fun things rather having the usual lessons. When Esther and I returned to Rhodes Avenue Primary School this week for their last life drawing evening this term, and found the group had relocated from a classroom to the main hall containing gym equipment, we felt a similar excitement.
We found two platforms of different heights, each of which had room for one or both of us, and there was a soft multicoloured dome we could clamber on. We would be able to enjoy the invention of new poses, but we were also here to work. The group’s tutor, Rosie, set the pose times and give a little direction – for example, whether we should be close or apart, or asking if poses already underway could be held for longer.
We started with energetic poses of 2-minutes, 3-minutes and 5-minutes, then paused to look at the works created before resuming with gentle poses: an embrace upon the dome for 5-minutes, followed by separated bodies holding hands for 15-minutes. After this, because it’s nearly Christmas, we had a break with the 11 artists to share flasks of cider, bottles of wine and trays of mince pies. All very civilised, of course.
When everybody was sufficiently refreshed, Esther and I shifted from the centre of the hall, on to a stage bedecked with the trappings of a nativity play. Carefully we covered a tiny throne, then posed on it for what started as 15 but ended up 25-minutes, before a 20-minute finale. As this group continues to grow in numbers and confidence I hope they can stick with this new venue for their art – certainly it seemed we all enjoyed it.
Suppose life drawing was not an intense process of scrutiny, measurement, empathy and application. It might just be a relaxing pastime to share with friends whilst having a natter. Many groups – both formal and informal – conduct their practice without any sound, or are perhaps silent save for musical accompaniment. A minority, meanwhile, have developed into easy-going arty social clubs. Whilst duo-posing at Fairkytes Art Centre for LeNu Life Drawing on Tuesday, Esther and I had a taste of the latter, as a third of the group were merrily bantering throughout.
Is constant chatter in the room disrespectful? I don’t feel there’s a definitive answer as it’s for each person to assess the likely impact of their conduct on those around them. Personally I’m quite content with conversation as it can be a welcome distraction from any physical discomfort. More likely, it could disturb the concentration of other artists, yet equally they might appreciate a friendly environment, even if not actively joining in. Topics for discussion during this session ranged from hiring tango dancers at funerals, to #MeToo family revelations…
In the midst of it all we life modelled while our friend, Natansky and her sister, Estelle, called the times. We stood for 5-minutes and 10-minutes, then sat next to each other on chairs for 15-minutes. Closing the first half, Esther stood and I cuddled her hips for 13-minutes, up to the interval. After tea, coffees and snacks we sat in an embrace on the floor for 20-minutes, and finally Esther stood leaning both upon and across me for the last (sometimes achy) 25-minutes. We enjoyed our time here, and hope everyone else felt the same way. I do like a group with character!
It was one of those early mornings that make one’s extremities literally ache from the cold. The tightening in my face, hands and feet as I walked through Lewisham for half an hour to Lochaber Hall, might have been enough to give me second thoughts. The sky was clear, the frost crisp and the temperature freezing. I feared for the conditions in my cavernous destination, so it came as a huge relief to feel warmth when I arrived in good time for a 9:30am start.
Radiators were all switched on and three fan heaters were blowing thermal goodness across the pile of pillows and sheets upon which I would be working. Artists adjusted their easels and when ready to start, we got going with six 5-minute poses: variously standing, kneeling, and squatting. For the 20-minutes that followed, I sat comfortably mid-crossfire of the three hot airstreams. One long pose would occupy the remaining two hours, and it was agreed that a similar seated pose would be desirable.
I sat motionless for 45-minutes. Towards the end of this first period, organiser David disappeared to make tea and coffee, and to bring forth dark chocolate digestives for the interval. When our eight artists were sufficiently reinvigorated, we continued with no break until the session concluded. My back became a little achy, but I remained toasty throughout – that had been my main priority. After some pleasant chat at the end, I exited once more into brilliant sunshine… very well wrapped-up.
Last Friday evening was Christmas party time for Hesketh Hubbard Art Society. The regulars have been obliged to wait two years for this annual event, as last December it was cancelled in favour of a late-arranged visit by Prince Charles. No Royal rigmarole in 2017, happily, so the usual format could proceed: life drawing for the first hour, then buffet snacks, wine and festive mingling thereafter. As per the last party, Esther and I were booked to provide two 30-minute poses.
When our modelling was done, Esther wisely made haste to the buffet while I took too long checking out the artworks and thus had to wait an hour for the queue to diminish. It meant I had plenty of time to catch up with the artists and some of the other models who’d posed at this session – including our friend Tanja on long poses, and the lovely Emma and Tim on portraits. Hesketh Hubbard president, Simon had quite thoughtfully invited a few other models to join the socialising, so more chatter and selfies ensued.
Me and Simon, managing a peep across Valentina and Mary into Tiziana’s selfie.
Our duo poses at the party in 2015 was my first time modelling at Mall Galleries. I’ve been blessed to receive many bookings here since, and already have two dates in the diary for next year. From a model’s perspective, the format is not necessarily the most comfortable in London, but there’s a cheerful social scene at its core, within which I’ve enjoyed meeting some fine characters – nice people. So, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Hesketh Hubbard Art Society! I look forward to seeing you again in 2018.
“I thought you said male models are always late, Patrick,” queried one of the artists at Wanstead House as I walked into the top-floor room ten-minutes early. “No,” retorted Patrick, the life drawing class’s organiser, “just some younger male models at Sunday morning sessions.” It seems the next generation must have trouble getting the bed off their backs after a Saturday night. This Wednesday evening, however, all was well.
Patrick asked me to start with two poses of 10-minutes followed by two of 20-minutes. All four poses I chose were more suited to 10-minute work, so consequently the latter pair – standing with one arm up and the other reaching out, then on the floor, propped on one hand and an elbow – both became rather achy midway through. I decided that after the interval I would make myself comfortable.
Happily, this group always seems to luxuriate in its tea break, so I had plenty of time to recover. The final pose would see me sitting on a well padded chair for 35-minutes. This was ideal. Patrick did some drawing, and offered advice to his seven artists. I do like his approach – he carefully studies the pose from the vantage point of each artist before offering comments on their work – never in haste, always considered.
At the end of the session I was pleased to receive compliments for remaining “so still“. It might be assumed this is the minimum requirement of a life model, but the standard evidently varies, just like the ability to climb out of bed in time for a morning session at the weekend. Punctuality and stillness are the basics – commitment, imagination and character are then what make the difference. I am still… and I’m still learning.
This was the last Monday evening life drawing session of term at The Conservatoire. Judging by the amount of sparkles on the floor of the life room, I guessed the previous class had been making Christmas decorations… though I’m not sure what accounted for the peculiar sandy texture underfoot. The broad square platform on which I usually work had gone missing, so I would begin upon a carpet of cushions and sheets in the round of easels, opening with three 1-minute poses.
A mini menagerie of man-shapes made up the middle poses. For 5-minutes I became a monkey – think six-foot-four spider monkey rather than chimp – stalking across the forest floor on fingers and toes. Next, for 10-minutes, I was a penguin: straight-legged and straight-armed, leaning forward to inspect some curious object on the ice; a long-limbed, plucked penguin. A single pose would occupy the rest of the session, and for this I acquired frog legs.
Tutor Victoria Rance often favours getting me into poses that are either symmetrical or compact, or both. This one was all the above as I perched upon portable steps and a cubic box, with my heels near to my buttocks and hands with interlinking fingers on top of my head. I sat like this for four innings of 20-minutes each. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable – numb fingers were my only affliction – but some great drawings were the result. It has been another very good term in a superb art space.
steve ritter 