A Friday night performance with Monsterlune and the bugs, followed by socialising, drink and convoluted Night Bus peregrinations, meant I didn’t get to bed till quarter to three on Saturday morning. Ordinarily, this would have been fine ahead of a weekend lay-in, but his time I’d blearily set my alarm for quarter to eight. I figured that was the latest I could leave it and still travel south in time to start modelling for Croydon Life Drawing Group at 9:30am.
Mercifully, I felt much less of a zombie when I woke than I did just five hours earlier. I was able to twist, stretch and exert myself for the opening short poses of 5-minutes, 5, 5, 4, 3, 2 and 1-minute, working with my back to the wall for an arc of about 20-25 artists. Sleepiness only caught up with me during the next 16-minute seated pose. I flickered my way through it with heavy eyelids, before getting back to my feet for the 16-minute standing pose that concluded our first half.
Group organiser, Francis Wardale, demonstrated the semi-reclining pose he wanted me to hold for the hour and a half after our tea break. He’d seen images I’d blogged of it from Wanstead the previous week. It’s a lovely pose but one that’s guaranteed to result in numb arms. Even with a stretch break every 20-25 minutes, I found myself in a little discomfort. On the plus side, it ensured that though my limbs were asleep, the rest of me would remain keenly awake – and some very nice art would be the result.
Properganda June 2 – a Properganda night at The Others, Stoke Newington – was the occasion of Estelle Riviere Monsterlune and her assorted ludicrous caricatures crawling forth, for one night only, in the extraordinary manifestation-cum-infestation of Monstershroom and the bugs. And on this variety night of music, film, performance, dance and poetry, I was to be… their “sexy flower”.
I arrived at 8pm, pretty much as the doors opened, and found the venue already busy with performers. Unusually, it seemed I was last to arrive, but I wouldn’t be needed till gone 9pm so I settled onto a sofa with a glass of wine and witnessed the early action. This included short Super 8mm cinema by Thomas Eikrem and a quirkily entrancing piece of live soundscaping by the boldly spectacled Julie Rose Bower.
Julie Rose Bower – © Zac Zenza
The room was full of strange yet friendly faces; and masks. Next projected on the wall was The Secret Video Diary of a Fetishist by Zac Zenza. Zac was present and, as ever, lovely company. During an interval that followed, I slipped into my flower dress for the first time and Estelle trimmed it for length. Meanwhile, Akimbo Moonchild was a giant peach and Mai Nguyen Tri performed butoh dance – sadly I missed both.
‘The Secret Video Diary of a Fetishist by Zac Zenza’
© Zac Zenza
Getting flowered up backstage
Akimbo Moonchild – © Zac Zenza
Mai Butoh Dance – © Zac Zenza
Mai Butoh Dance – © Elodie Gonnard
The Bugs
Come twenty past ten, it was time for Monstershroom and the bugs to be oh-so weird and wonderful. The bugs first: Ben Hell was the black-masked, stripey jumper-wearing meta-musical master orchestrator at keyboards; Joe Newton, the silver soundsmith at his side; Takatsuna Mukai, the technicolour caterpillar technically on violin. If they had music in mind, it emerged magically as a strange skittering insect symphony.
© Elodie Gonnard
© Zac Zenza
© Antonia Penia
© Zac Zenza
Monstershroom
All costumes were Estelle’s very own handmade creations, and greatest of these was her astonishing Monsterlune mushroom apparel. Before revealing it, however, she first lingered out of view and added vocal accompaniment to the bugs’ bizarre buzz. When eventually she appeared before her audience, I could hear a boom of approval from my backstage seclusion. Voice and vibrations lilted and lunged in husky harmony.
© Zac Zenza
© Zac Zenza
© Antonia Penia
© Zac Zenza
Sexy flower
I had been given just three instructions by Estelle for my own participation in the work. First, I was to wait three minutes before following her out onto stage. As a life model, I am accustomed to counting down minutes, but to be extra certain I watched the clock on my phone. Time barely seemed to pass. When the third minute elapsed, a six foot four bloom sashayed elegantly into view.
© Zac Zenza
© Zac Zenza
© Zac Zenza
© Zac Zenza
My second instruction had been to contrive special movements like a flower. Not as in swaying whilst rooted to one spot, but… well, Estelle figured I would know what to do. I reckoned graceful and lithe was the way to go. And go I did; my third instruction was to rove about and get amongst the audience, weaving barefoot between sofas, rows of glamorous knees and the occasional trailing cable. Cameras flashed all around.
© Elodie Gonnard
© Elodie Gonnard
© Elodie Gonnard
© Elodie Gonnard
Together, the five of us were Monstershroom and the bugs – two boggle-eyed insects, one dazzling caterpillar, one exotic fungal chanteuse, and a rangy dancing luneflower. Our public loved us, and why wouldn’t they? Such refined buggery is a precious treat, even on a Friday night in Stoke Newington. This surreal indulgent hedonism lasted for an intense quarter of an hour.
© Antonia Penia
© Zac Zenza
© Zac Zenza
© Antonia Penia
© Zac Zenza
Applause at the end was profound. Estelle and Ben had created yet another exquisite visual and aural banquet of performance art cabaret. Happiness was shared and many photographs taken as we unravelled ourselves to the sounds of the last acts: Madame Sex Art poetry of Anne Pigalle and a closing outburst of radical folk from Corneilius Crowley. It had been a special gathering. Misfit perfection personified.
Uniqlo Tate Lates: Giacometti
Friday, May 26, 2017
6:00pm – 10:00pm
Tate Modern
“Art Macabre will be part of Uniqlo Tate Late for the first time. Looking forward to exploring the Alberto Giacometti exhibition, with Steve Ritter as our figure to draw from life (those Giacometti-esque limbs can be captured in pencil and also pipe cleaner sculpting). Plus a ‘vanitas‘ still life to sketch from. We’re one of several activities animating this iconic gallery after hours, including our friends from Death Café too, DJs, clay demos and a chance to see the exhibitions.” – Art Macabre
This was indeed a serendipitous alignment: the ever-marvellous Art Macabre invited to début at Tate Modern, Giacometti as their theme and me apparently the go-to London life model for poses in the style of his work. The open nature of the event meant it was decreed I couldn’t be nude, so I wore black leggings with bulked-out feet and wrapped black tape around my belly. Unusually for an Art Macabre event, I was the only model, but Esther came along to lend support. We were ready before 6pm so I began early.
Art Macabre’s director-supreme, Nikki, was calling the pose times while a small team of assistants was on hand to dispense drawing materials for drop-in artists. About half a dozen people were seated on chairs or cushions when we started, and their number grew steadily as the minutes passed. It wasn’t very long before we had a crowd. Pose times were short – 1-minute, 3, 5, 7, 10… never more than 15 – so I was getting quite a work-out, with no other Giacometti-esque model around to share the effort.
Notwithstanding my natural Giacometti-style build, I tried to make each pose relevant to his work. Some sought to recreate the shape of individual sculptures, whilst others focused on specific limb arrangements. For variety, I threw in a few random instances of self-expression, but these were the exceptions. Almost all were standing; only four poses in three and a quarter hours took the weight off my feet. Umpteen pipe cleaner models and sketches were collected by Nikki’s assistants for display behind me.
Around half-past seven, Nikki must have read my mind and asked if I needed a break. We’d attracted scores of people, but it couldn’t be avoided; I said I would continue for another quarter of an hour and then take a breather. Nikki announced there was to be an interval in which artists could practice drawing the vanitas… or perhaps volunteers would like to try modelling? Two young women stepped up and enjoyed their moment whilst I retreated to devour my complimentary cheese and tomato sandwich.
I had started at seven minutes to six (Nikki said), paused at quarter to eight, resumed at seven minutes past eight and would continue till half-past nine. The gathered horde of artists had not diminished in enthusiasm or size during my absence, so we carried on as before. I assumed that very few people would be going the full distance with us, however, so it would be OK to recycle a few poses. The atmosphere was superb, with music and merry hubbub all around – I confess, I rather revelled in being centre stage.
© Natalie Thomas
© Natalie Thomas
© Natalie Thomas
© Natalie Thomas
© Natalie Thomas
© Natalie Thomas
The last half-hour’s poses were 15-minutes, 5, 5 and finally 4-minutes in the style of a recognisable Giacometti form. It had been an extraordinary evening – I felt exhausted, elated, and emotional as warm applause reverberated across Level 2 of the cavernous Switch House building. With my glasses back on I could properly appreciate artworks that had been taped to the walls and find familiar friendly faces in the crowd. So much positivity! And so many fantastic drawings!
With the clearing-up all but done, Esther and I withdrew to the ‘green room’ on Level 4 where our bags were stored. I dressed and we ate our fill of backstage snacks, before heading to the Founders Arms where we quaffed red wine through to the small hours with Catherine Hall of Drawing the Star; it’s a shame Nikki was burdened with props and unable to join us. Art Macabre and Tate Modern had made a winning combination that will hopefully be repeated many times to come. I was honoured to be a part of it.
This was the last Wednesday evening life drawing class at Wanstead House before their long summer break, so I felt honoured to be booked as the model. It was another sultry evening with the fire door propped open to encourage the circulation of cooler air from outside. Generally the sessions here have a gentle pace, however, which means I can make diverse shapes without any danger of overheating.
Yesterday evening in Nunhead I worked through ten poses in the first half, yet here I was only asked for three. I opened by standing for 15-minutes with one arm over my head, the other arm reaching across my belly, and legs in a natural stride. Next, I sat on the floor for 15-minutes, legs bent horizontally with right foot to left knee, and then for the remaining 30-minutes I sat on a chair that had been draped with sheets.
After a relatively long break of half an hour – their last natter this side of autumn – the group’s organiser, Patrick, showed me the pose he would like for our final 30-minutes: sitting on the floor with upper body rested on a chair. I know from experience that this one is guaranteed to numb the arm that hangs farthest across the chair but it has the potential to result in quite elegant artworks, so I don’t mind too much.
One curiosity regarding the last pose is that this was the third time in as many years it had been requested as the finale of a Wednesday evening session here. One of the artists – Gian – has captured it from the more or less same angle on every occasion, which makes for a fascinating record of progression through time. I cannot think of an equivalent situation with any other group. How many more years, I wonder?
Wanstead House, 24 May 2017
It seemed such a tiny room at The Green in Nunhead; just 12′ by 15′, supposedly for a capacity of ten, yet by the end of the evening I was posing with my back to the wall for 13 artists. Nunhead Drawing Group is young in all respects – I believe this may have been only their eighth session – and with its freshness comes friendliness and a willingness to accommodate. Cushions had been heaped in one corner for me and, at 7pm, I disrobed to commence what would be a series of short poses.
We opened with four 1-minute poses: kneeling; thrusting; cringing; balancing. Next, a 3-minute pose as if pulling a rope, followed by three poses of 5-minutes: standing with palms facing outwards on top of my head; kneeling with both hands to the floor; and a cross-legged full lotus, with hands as if in prayer. The first half closed with 10-minutes seated alongside the wall with one leg straight, the other bent, and finally, 15-minutes standing with one arm over my head and the other across my belly.
I cooled down with a pint of water during the interval. It was sufficiently warm that we’d had a fire escape window wide open throughout the session. We fitted four poses into the second half: 20-minutes seated, folded sideways to hug the cushions; 15-minutes seated upright, with one knee raised and arms making a T-shape; 5-minutes standing with legs crossed and arms crossing my chest; 5-minutes upside down, rolled on my back with knees to chest. All thoroughly enjoyable! Hope to do it again some time.
I’d never before seen so many artists crammed into The Sun. Word had gone out that The Moon and Nude was presenting a couple life drawing session, and the good folk of Clapham had turned up in big numbers. At least 30 people were surrounding Esther and me, mostly shoulder to shoulder along the walls, with a few seeking other vantage points wherever they could.
We opened with a 10-minute pose standing side-by-side facing in opposite directions with arms out. Next for 15-minutes Esther was standing while I sat embracing her left leg – it’s a pose we’ve used several times as it switches our relative heights. The last pose of the first half saw us seated face-to-face on the floor. There was some contact between our limbs, but this one was more about eye contact and emotional contact.
After a break for refreshments, we curled together in a reclining spooning embrace of 40-minutes. It may seem self-indulgently lazy, to lay down half-asleep for what would be our longest pose of the evening, but actually we chose this as it guaranteed every artist would have a clear view of both bodies and the composition provided. Plus, this was indeed a ‘couple’ pose – more than a duo pose.
There was time at the end for one final pose of 10-minutes. We stood again, now with slightly wobblier limbs that put complicated balancing beyond reach, so we got into a repositioned variation of our opening stances. Applause at the end. It had been a very nice session, harmonious, warm, intimate at the heart of a crowd, interesting playlist; always a pleasure to be back with The Moon and Nude.
I was back on long poses for Hesketh Hubbard Art Society. It would be one 2-hour pose – one hour without a break, then a fifteen-minute interval for tea and a digestive, followed by a further hour without a break. Pose choice would be important. Crucially in this regard, on arriving at Mall Galleries I was approached by three portrait artists, each wanting to know if I would be laying down or sitting down (actually, I was toying with the idea of standing). Sensing their intent, I agreed to sit suitably for portrait.
I would be seated on a cushioned bench with my back to the wall between two large oil paintings. I’d arrived with time enough to try a few positions that could work as an interesting nude life pose, whilst being upright and facing forwards for the portraitists. The only one that felt immediately comfortable, and hopefully sustainable for an hour at a time, had my left leg crooked horizontally on the bench, right knee up, and both hands on my right shin. Decision made, I wandered off for a look around.
When it was time to start I settled into my chosen pose… but something wasn’t right. Small positional details make all the difference. Whereas I’d been comfortable before, within moments I was feeling little prickly pains up my back and a dull ache in my left buttock. Why? who knows – something imperceptible I’d done differently – but artists had started making their marks so I felt committed. I passed that first hour with micro muscle movements to alleviate stress without causing distraction.
When the hour was done I creaked and groaned to my feet. Reassuringly I could see excellent works were underway – somehow, good art can compensate for all kinds of soreness. On resuming the pose I found my original intended position without prickly pain or dull aches, but by now the damage was done. Mind games and more muscle manipulations got me through. At the end, Esther came bounding in – she’d been on 30-minute poses next door – and all was well. The artists had done us both proud.
