Anerley and Penge Life Drawing sessions at Bridge House can be ‘short pose’, meaning nothing longer than 15-minutes, or ‘long pose’, meaning exactly the reverse. At the time of accepting a booking, one doesn’t know which it will be, but for me this evening was to be one of long poses: two of 15-minutes, one of half-an-hour, a break, then 20 and 25-minutes to a close.
Unintentionally it became something of a workout for my arms. I opened with a pose I’d seen Esther hold for 15-minutes at Mall Galleries just three days before: a pace forward with both arms extended. It was taxing yet achieved. Next, I went down onto my left knee, with my right hand planted on the ground – taking my weight – and my left arm resting across my raised right knee; the right arm suffereth.
For the 30-minute pose I’d intended to take inspiration from a powerful drawing I had seen in an exhibition at Leigh Community Centre, wherein the model sat with legs slightly apart, knees raised, elbows on knees and head in hands. As it was, however, the previous pose weakened my limbs and joints too much to make it sustainable, so instead I sat self-entwined… and made my right arm ache even more.
The break, when it came, was most welcome. Afterwards, I first sat upon a footstool with one leg folded beneath my body, then concluded the evening in a standing pose with right hand upon my belly and left hand raised to head height – thereby ensuring my left arm would ache as much as the right. Such trivia aside, it had been another enjoyable evening for a nice group with a good turn-out: 15 artists this time.
Upon entering the back room of Laure Genillard gallery, I found a dazzling line-up of veteran art performers at rest upon the sofa before me. Chas, Clifford, Cy, Paula – I had participated in many a nude artistic action with these fine folk over the years. On this occasion we had gathered to be part of the third and final ‘Footfall’ installation by JocJonJosch, in central London.
We were joined by Chris, who together with Cy and me had been a part of Footfall seven weeks before, plus another Chris who was in Sion for Ouroboros three years earlier, and finally a brother of one the artists’ wives. Thus, eight of us would perform, but to do so we needed to undress and get covered in mud. First Paula, then the rest us, crossed to the upper gallery, stripped and stepped into its pile of wet earth.
We were due to begin the performance at 6:30pm, but first there was to be a talk by Jo Melvin, the exhibition’s curator, in the gallery downstairs. The challenge for us was to stay silent as we applied handfuls of filth to our own bodies, and the hard-to-reach places of our friends. Once completely covered, without further ado or prompting, we started automatically to trample around in the muddy mass.
After applauding the curator, our audience ascended stairs to watch in silence as we paced about in dirt. We paid no attention, but simply continued our monotonous toil. Whilst the action was meant to be identical for us all, in practice some idiosyncratic styles emerged: Chas was the sweeper, using a foot to push earth from the edges to the centre; Clifford was our gardener, continually picking small stones from underfoot.
Cy became the artist in our midst, making ever more complex swirls and ridges in the mud, only for the rest of us to obliterate them with aimless treading; meanwhile Paula was the dancer whose personal footfalls echoed a samba-style repetition. None of the three artists of JocJonJosch were taking part – a temporary reprieve for Joschi, whose turn it was, so his time would come a fortnight later in Switzerland.
The performance was intended to last two hours, although in practice I believe it may have been cut short to an hour and a half. It was tiring work nonetheless. Afterwards, all eight of us took turns to wash ourselves in the gallery’s two showers, and duly left behind disgraceful scenes of flooded devastation, yet there was no subtle alternative. When dressed, we joined the after-show party for pizza, banter and wine.
It may seem insane to most onlookers and readers – why volunteer for something like this? Although I am undeniably a nude art specialist, I’m also fully appreciative of the artistic integrity and practice of JocJonJosch; its intensity, curiosity and camaraderie. When the gallery closed, we continued the latter nearby at Bradley’s Spanish Bar. Esther joined us; in two weeks we would both join Joschi in the mud at Martigny…
It was a fraught journey of train cancellations and delays, yet somehow I still reached The Plough and Harrow with ten minutes to spare. Inside, Esther was tucking into chips. This may seem strange preparation for modelling, but as she’d eaten only two slices of toast all day up to that point, it was little short of essential. When the chips were down, we ran through a few pose ideas with Jenny – organiser of Life Drawing in Leytonstone – and then, at the stroke of 7:30pm, it was time to disrobe…
We started with a 10-minute standing pose, bodies in contact, me behind Esther with my arms around her; seemingly simple yet not without minor challenges. So much of life modelling is about balance that even the smallest movement is amplified if it pulls away from, or pushes into a co-model. We followed this with another 10-minute pose, Esther standing once more, and me now seated as a complex tangle of limbs around her legs – possibly our trickiest challenge for the artists.
The first half ended with us sitting in an intimate embrace on a large leather footstool, with Esther nestling in between my legs and me reaching around her. Again, it would have appeared sumptuously comfortable, but we took time and due care in arranging our limbs to avoid numbness. This was a 30-minute pose, after all. A grand selection of teas and chocolates awaited us at the interval; it’s a very friendly group, and Jenny takes great care of her artists and models.
One long pose of 45-minutes occupied the second half. We lay down together on our sides, once more in a tight embrace with me to the rear. As Esther recalled later, the artists didn’t see my full body all evening, yet I doubt this would have been a concern. Composition of each pose is more important, so given our comparative sizes it’s only natural that I should be behind Esther more often than not. When our work was done, we stayed on for a drink and chat with the group – thank you all for a lovely evening.
The unexpected. I was bequeathed this booking at one day’s notice when a fellow life model had to cancel for family reasons. It being my first engagement with University of the Arts London, I made sure to check in at their Holborn building very early. The security guard on reception didn’t know of a room for life drawing, however, so called his supervisor. Meanwhile, the first artist arrived. We chatted till the supervisor joined us to confirm the prevalent state of ignorance.
“But what if the model needs to know?” asked my artist friend.
“I am the model…” I replied.
We were ushered towards the UAL Student Union office, where a very friendly chap directed us to room HH.209. More artists arrived, until eventually there were fourteen. Intuitively, they cleared tables and chairs from the pose space so that when the tutor, Sean, joined us, we were ready for art. To my joy, the session would be filled entirely with quick poses – no time to get pains. Sean suggested, “nothing too complicated,” but sometimes one cannot prevent oneself.
I began with poses of just 1-minute. The room was near silent, except for the regular pings of a laptop to signal when I should change. I’d rotated through countless shifts of sixty-seconds by the time Sean said, “now let’s go on to 3-minutes.” After several more of these, we moved to 5-minutes, then had a short interval before finishing with five poses of 10-minutes each. There was little interaction or conversation during the session, but I thoroughly enjoyed the format. I hope it won’t be a one-off for me.
Coincidentally this session came just two days short of a year since I last modelled at The Sun in Clapham. There had been a couple of postponements in that time, but once again I was back working for The Moon and Nude at their south London venue. Arriving early, I spread my freshly-washed white sheet over cushions in the middle of the floor upstairs and changed into my robe.
I opened with 6-minutes in a standing twist, one arm stretching back, then continued: 3-minutes squatting down; 1-minute kneeling with hands raised; 10-minutes standing and leaning back with hands crossed upon shoulders; 15-minutes sitting on the floor, hugging my thighs with knees raised; 20-minutes sitting side-saddle on the cushions. This sequence took us up to a break.
During the interval, organiser Aless offered treacle flapjacks and chocolate cornflake snacks to her artists and model. While enjoying these treats I noticed a stray helium balloon – the remnant of some bygone party – nestled high upon the colourful ceiling fresco. I stood on a chair and reached up to retrieve it, resolving to incorporate it into the first pose when we resumed.
I started the second half reclining for 30-minutes, with one hand on my chest holding the balloon’s string to add a vertical dimension. Next, I stood with both arms painfully ill-positioned for 10-minutes, and finished up on one knee for 5-minutes. It had been a quiet, pleasant evening, sufficiently comfortable not to need a heater. I felt pleased to have made it back here.
Evening life painting – session 3 of 3
I placed my folded white sheet on the floor precisely how it had been last week and the week before. Masking tape marked where my feet should go, although by now my own black footprints gave me all the direction I needed. Someone really ought to wipe the studio floor at Morley College. There were to be no short warm-ups so, at ten past six, when the artists settled, I took off my robe and resumed my long pose.
Full figure started midway through this evening
Portrait developed over two weeks
Full figure started midway through this evening
I stood until a quarter past seven, with brief stretch breaks every 20-minutes. After a long coffee break in Morley’s cafeteria, we continued for a further hour in three parts. At five to nine my work was done. The last 20-minutes when I ought to have been at my most achy, were actually quite euphoric. It had been a strenuous pose felt most keenly on neck and lower back, so I was heartily satisfied to have finished the job.
Full figure developed over two weeks
Full figure and art room, including self-portrait, started this evening
Full figure started this evening
Artists had come and gone but nine were with me and tutor Gillian at the end. Their progress had been interesting to follow. Some started a new study each week, some moved to fresh vantage points, some began with preparatory drawings, some worked their paintings over two weeks. None took a single work through all three weeks, but that didn’t matter. With varying degrees of personal satisfaction, all had done well.
Full figure started midway through this evening
Full figure started this evening after first stretch break
Full figure started this evening after first stretch break
Preparatory sketch
Preparatory sketch, unfavoured hand
As for me… all that remained now was to go home and at last wash my sheet.
One high stool, one low stool, pillows covered by a sheet on the floor… all awaiting in the pose space upstairs at The Star by Hackney Downs. It’s become a familiar and welcome sight for me. The 90-minute sessions here are high among my very favourite bookings. As ever, short poses were to the fore, starting with 5-minutes, 4, 3, 2, three of 1-minute, and three of 30-seconds each.
I was posing in the round for (I think) nine artists, including organiser Catherine Hall and my beloved Esther. Not the busiest it’s ever been, but it was bitterly cold outside. Mercifully, there were two heaters roaring away in our room. These proved so effective that I had to turn them off for the next two 10-minute poses. In the first I recreated my long standing pose from last week at Morley College.
After opening with a sequence of quite complicated dynamic poses – one artist said I was the hardest model she’d ever had to draw – I decided to recline for the final pose before our break; partly to get my breath back and partly out of compassion for those struggling to capture my chaotic limbs. Similarly I elongated my body for the last two 15-minute poses of the evening: one on the high stool, the other on the low.
Between dressing myself and returning to the red wine, I flitted around photographing drawings that had been shared on the floor. I will never cease to be impressed by the high standard these artists – regulars and newcomers alike – achieve in such limited time. When Esther and I return next week our roles will be reversed: Esther to model and me to draw. I’m crap at quick work so I fear the overall standard may finally slip!
steve ritter 