I wish I had a photograph of the sight that greeted me and Esther as we entered The Cellar, beneath The Finborough Arms. Aless and Mandy of The Moon and Nude had not held back in creating a special Halloween life drawing space: a stage draped black and cobwebbed, carved pumpkins with candles at the edges, more candles on all the tables for artists and to one side a delectable buffet of wine, cheeses, biscuits, cakes and chocolate. All it needed was life models, suitably adorned.
We retreated to the ladies’ toilets and applied face paints: Esther as a witch, me as a skeleton. I wore a see-through cobweb-patterned cape; Esther had long black wig and a bat-shaped eye mask. We were ready with a minute or so to spare. Aless asked us about pose lengths – we agreed: 10-minutes to start, 20-minutes to follow, 30-minutes to the interval. After a break we ended with poses of 25 and 15-minutes. A soundtrack of monster-themed songs played throughout to a lively room.
We had been privileged to be booked for consecutive sessions of this monthly group. Whilst September had been relatively quiet, this one was full-to-bursting with artists, and rightly so. The efforts made by the organisers deserved proper appreciation; I like to think everyone had a fine time. For me and Esther, it was nearly a year since we’d first posed together, during DeadFriday at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford. We are still refining the art of our duo modelling – it’s a beautiful journey to share.
© The Moon and Nude
© The Moon and Nude
© The Moon and Nude
The good news is that those lovely people at The Moon and Nude have a new venue for life drawing; they now occupy the ply gallery at Hornsey Arts Centre on Tuesday evenings. The sad news is that it’s a replacement for Wednesdays at The Old Dairy in Crouch Hill, where the landlord decided there’s more money to be milked from evening diners than artists and nude models. Not my idea of progress…
Hornsey Arts Centre is located within a massive complex of civic buildings. I’d arrived half an hour ahead of time and needed the first 20 minutes just to find the place. One downside of being early is that a right place may seem a wrong place when the lights are out and doors locked. On my third attempt to get in I was greeted by a somewhat relieved-looking Julia, the session’s organiser. I quickly undressed and began.
Whilst The Old Dairy was often rammed with artists, this new gallery venue is clearly still in the process of establishing itself. Nonetheless, eight fine folk had paid to draw me so I gave them my best. Poses started quick and got longer: 1-minute, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10, and 20-minutes during the first half. After the interval, I perched upon a high stool for 45-minutes, taking us to a finish.
Disconcertingly, four artists – half the group! – packed up and left about quarter of an hour from the end. I attributed this to coincidence rather a commentary on my poses, as those who remained were particularly generous with their applause, plus personal compliments afterwards. Julia herself was especially sweet, even handing me a nice bottle of Shiraz to share with Esther. I’ll drink to her health and the group’s success!
After a quiet summer, life model bookings have begun to increase. This would be my third session in as many evenings and, with each one coming after a full day’s work, I’ll admit I arrived at The Prince Regent feeling more than a little jaded. It happens. No matter that I love life modelling as much as ever; exuding inspirational dynamism and body confidence in the midst of a draining week was starting to feel an effort…
…but then I saw the skull.
I missed my intended train to Herne Hill, yet still reached the venue ten minutes early. At the doorway I encountered the familiar smiling face of Vanessa who, unbeknownst to me, would to be working in the adjacent room. Inside, Lisa of SketchPad Drawing was busy setting up easels while artists claimed preferred sites. The atmosphere was good. And on the table where I was to begin posing, there sat a styrofoam skull.
There’s no logical reason why the sight of a styrofoam skull should lift my spirits, but as the clock ticked towards our start time I found myself interested in its possibilities. Here was something fresh for me to be creative with – to react against or be dramatic towards. For my opening 10-minutes, I sat contemplating it – “Alas, poor Yorick, they drew him well…” – after which I opened up more for shorter poses.
Four 5-minute poses followed, then two of 2-minutes, before the first half finished with a reclining pose that was intended to last 15-minutes, but which, on request, became 25-minutes. After the interval, I changed rooms with Vanessa and ended with a single seated pose of 45-minutes; less comfortable, but by now I didn’t mind. I was restored in my energy, had enjoyed my evening and loved the art. Just the tonic I needed.
“Are you the life drawing tutor?” I passed through the doorway at Fairkytes Art Centre and was immediately quizzed by a very portly gentleman of advancing years, who was loitering in the corridor. “No,” I said, “I’m the model.” “You run the group?” he tried once more. “No, I’m the model,” I repeated for the benefit of his reticent hearing aid. He held out a LeNu Life Drawing leaflet upon which was scrawled ‘Life Models Wanted’…
His contact details were on the back… written in the same handwriting.
London is awash with would-be life models. Those hoping to get started can try either auditioning through RAM (for a fee), or simply asking around local life drawing groups. The individuals who make it will be the ones who understand it is a profession of value based upon a contract of trust. Sending unsolicited nude pics, offering to work for free or behaving in other overtly dubious ways are all likely to ensure you won’t be booked.
My friend Natansky, who runs the group with her sister Estelle, took the gentleman’s details and said she would be in touch if an opportunity arose. Meanwhile, I would do my best to hold the fort for the next couple of hours. A large heater was provided, but the unpleasantness of its smell was greater than benefit of its warmth, so instead we put our faith in radiators and the body temperatures of our ten artists.
I began in a 5-minute crouch – a pose that I’ve used a lot lately – then cycled through 1, 2, 3 and 4-minute poses, before finishing the half with 10 and 20-minutes sitting on the floor. Votes were cast after the break and, rather than divide the remaining time in two, I ended with a single reclining pose of 45-minutes. Afterwards the enthusiasm of artists made me even more grateful to be one of Nat’s genuine ‘Life Models Wanted’.
I hesitated before entering. The Conservatoire in Blackheath is a prestigious centre for music and art, yet the grand building façade that rose before me seemed more for the former than the latter. One is always cautious of approaching unfamiliar premises and announcing, “I’m your life model“, only to find it’s the wrong address. Tentatively I crossed the threshold, made halting enquiries, and was greeted warmly.
I was escorted along a short corridor, through a café area, and into what their website describes as ‘one of the last remaining purpose built Victorian Life Drawing studios in the country‘. They say, ‘it is incredible to work in‘, and they do not exaggerate one bit. Certainly it is the finest life room I’ve ever modelled in. I would love to pose in it during daylight hours, but for now I was here for the first of three autumnal evenings.
In tutor Victoria Rance, I found infectious enthusiasm for thoughtful, pleasing, natural poses. In this two-and-a-half hour session, she asked if I could start with two poses of 5-minutes and one of 10-minutes, then hold a single long pose to the end. Inspirations were varied; for 10-minutes I would recreate an ancient bronze sculpture, whilst for the long pose I would mimic a drunk she’d seen crumple from sitting to lying face down.
I started with a dynamic standing posture and followed it by crouching low. My bronze was altered to make it more naturalistic, and the drunk pose was flipped as the group preferred to see me twisted onto my back. That made it a tad more uncomfortable but I got a couple of breaks for a stretch. Overall I loved the space, thoroughly appreciated Victoria’s approach, and will look forward to working for this group again.
Nine days after my short pose session at Anerley and Penge Life Drawing, I was back working for group organiser, Tatiana Moressoni, at her venue in Camberwell. The sequence of pose lengths at The Cambria would be identical to those at Bridge House so in theory I could recycle the same set of poses. In practice, however, that’s not what happened – for three very good reasons..
REASON 1: life modelling is about the moment. How comfortable is this space? What vibe am I getting from the group? What is my body telling me? What is my mood? The infinite permutation of factors means that, like snowflakes, no two sessions are alike. I may attempt to recreate individual poses, but across the evening there is certain to be variety and originality.
REASON 2: quite simply, I forget. The opportunity for spontaneity and creativity is part of what makes life modelling fun. How dull it would be to limit myself to just a dozen or so well-rehearsed postures. Tatiana would tell me a pose must be 2-minutes, 5, 10, or 15-minutes long, and within that constraint I had licence to be as inventive as I wished so, of course… I listen to my body and invent.
REASON 3: specific to The Cambria is its famous bright red couch. I didn’t make use of it for every pose but, certainly within the latter half, I incorporated it into all my work. Many models have been drawn on it, so it introduces the new challenge of how to find a posture that might not previously have been tried. Impossible to know if I succeeded but this is a warm, friendly group and I was happy to have done my best for them.
Fourteen poses in two hours. Upon commencing a session it’s common for me not to know the number of poses, or of what length, I’ll be asked to present. On this evening in Hoxton, I knew my first pose would be 10-minutes and those immediately following were likely to be shorter but after that anything could be possible. I stepped out of my robe to stand naked and slender, one foot tilted upon the other, with arms angled high and hands wrapped behind my head.
I occupied a small, square space at the centre of a well-lit room with a lone ferocious heater for company. Empty chairs around me gradually filled up during that first pose until eventually I was being drawn by 20 to 25 artists seated round the four walls. My opening pose was followed by dynamic standing and kneeling poses of 3-minutes, 2, 2, and 1-minute. As always, I alternated my direction to ensure variety was available to everyone on all sides.
The first half closed on 5-minutes, 10, 10, and 15-minutes. I’d been offered the use of pillows and a small step as posing aids throughout, but I waited until the first pose of the second half to sit upon the step for 10-minutes. About halfway through, I asked if the heater could be turned as I was being delicately roasted in its firing line. 2-minute and 1-minute poses followed, after which I finished up with 20-minutes in a crouching squat, and 22-minutes reclining.
I rarely plan more than one specific pose ahead, yet usually have an idea of how I will spread standing, kneeling, sitting and reclining throughout the session. The danger is that I get wedded to the idea of a particular pose, and then stick with it even when the pose length called for is much longer than I had anticipated. By the end of 20-minutes squatting I had firey tendons, numb calves and purple fingertips. On balance, however, it was another comfortable session for an appreciative London Life Drawing group.
steve ritter 