The aftermath: a dull ache on the left side of my neck; sharp pains across my lower back; a strain in my right calf… Such a range of persistent discomforts the next day suggests maybe I over-exerted myself at various times during this session. It’s hard not to, however, on evenings filled entirely with short poses – especially at The Star by Hackney Downs. Always worth the extra effort here.
Drawing the Star is firmly established as a favourite group, and it was good to see so many familiar friendly faces amongst the artists. Pose lengths were reassuringly familiar too. Organiser Catherine Hall called the times: 5-minutes, 4, 3, 2, three of 1-minute, three of 30-seconds, 10-minutes and 5-minutes up to a break, then two of 15-minutes to a finish. Heaters maintained a tropical climate.
I was in difficulty from the very first standing pose when a misjudged balance in my folded twisting stance ensured I had a fibrillating right leg for the rest of the session. Three minutes from the end of sitting for 10-minutes, the onset of a nasty cramp did the damage to my calf, whilst a diagonal recline supported on one elbow for the first 15-minute pose guaranteed me a stiff neck…
Buddhism’s first noble truth is translated as ‘all life is suffering‘; meanwhile, western culture revels in the idea of ‘suffering for art‘. With so much suffering in life and in art, it seems inevitable that life art must be a double dose. I am not a masochist – I don’t enjoy pain, and mostly I manage my poses to avoid it. When it comes, however, it is usually a sign I’m loving the work and happy to push myself. Such as this night.
Upon arriving at The Conservatoire in Blackheath for the last of three autumnal Monday bookings, my attention turned directly to the final pose. I would be reclining on a broad, low, white-painted box, but the question was: could it be turned onto its side so I would be raised even higher with limbs dangling down? Together with tutor Victoria Rance, I stared doubtfully at the object. We would give the matter some more thought after a few short poses to get us started.
The first one was a request. For a private project, one artist needed to draw a figure clutching its stomach and crumpling in pain; I duly obliged for 5-minutes. This went down well, so I followed with another dynamic 5-minute standing pose, in stride with hands on head. After 10-minutes sitting twisted on a high stool it was time for me to get into the long pose… and we opted to play it safe. The box would remain flat with me lying curled upon it, foetal-like.
I had two large layers of thick foam to lay on, plus my white sheet, but any pose that lasts more than one and a half hours will inevitably become uncomfortable. This time the pressure eventually told on my lower shoulder so, despite a break mid-pose, I felt relieved when our work was done – sad too, as this concluded my Monday evenings here in 2016. On Victoria’s recommendation, however, I will start anew later this week with the Thursday life painting group here. Thank you, Victoria!
“I’m afraid you’re going to see more of me than you used to!”
Back in August, I took part in a multi-model collaboration between Spirited Bodies and All The Young Nudes in Edinburgh. For one 10-minute pose, we were asked to imagine that a relative, friend or work colleague who didn’t know we were life models, had walked into the room. Last night at The Conservatoire in Blackheath, after four and a half years working as a model, it finally happened to me for real.
I was fully clothed, talking with tutor Victoria Rance in the life drawing studio, when the door opened and in walked Kelly – a colleague with whom I had shared an office for four years, till she left for greener pastures 18 months ago. I don’t know what my face must have conveyed at that moment but Kelly stopped in her tracks with a look of shock that quickly segued to smiling surprise, then slight bafflement. I said:
“I’m afraid you’re going to see more of me than you used to!”
The tendency to compartmentalisation has been part of my life since before I took up nude modelling. It’s not about secrets, shame or boundaries, just a natural inclination to let my social circles remain as they are without nudging them towards intersection. Now, through Kelly, one circle had potentially discovered something interesting about another, and it’s fine. I’m proud of what I do… plus, Kelly’s not given to idle gossip.
On to business! Underfloor heating had been switched on, and the pose platform was surrounded by no fewer than five heaters, so I would be toasty warm despite freezing temperatures outside. As on my previous visit to The Conservatiore, I was happy to go with Victoria’s plan for poses. For the opening one, I would be standing upright for 5-minutes with my hands around head and belly; no hiding place.
Afterwards I sat on the platform for 5-minutes with forehead resting on knees, hugging my shins. Next came 10-minutes curled onto my side in a kind of foetal position, and then we set up the evening’s long pose. I was to be sitting symmetrically on the edge of a tall box with my feet together and legs angled straight to the ground. I slipped my robe from my shoulders and Victoria asked me to leave it where it fell. We began.
I remained in this position for an initial 25-minutes, was then granted a ‘stretch break’, and resumed for a further half-an-hour up to an interval. Another 30-minutes took us to the end. I’d felt surprisingly comfortable throughout. Of course, with my robe now part of the tableau, I could not put it back on during breaks so, in the interests of life room etiquette, I pulled on my jeans instead.
I wandered around the easels during each break to see the works in progress. Some artists opted to start a new drawing each time we resumed, while others developed a single work from start to finish. I loved how at some point during the last half-hour, an artist decided I would look better with long hair – it took me back to my festival years and also gave me the pleasing appearance of a native South American.
I exchanged a few reminiscences with Kelly but I think we were more interested in the work we were each doing at that moment. Kelly’s are the drawings immediately above and below, and also the first two on this blog. She has a superb eye for both form and proportion – a reminder that often we never truly know the hidden depths and talent of people we see on a daily basis.
Once again it had been a pleasure to model for this group, and to be shown attention and consideration throughout by Victoria. I’m booked to return next Monday too, and suspect that after the relatively comfortable standing pose of this session, I could be asked for something a little more testing in a week’s time. Bring it on! I feel I passed an interesting psychological test on this occasion. I’m enjoying my art.
Having posed for Halloween-themed life drawing events during the preceding week, the time had come for me to get into character on the day itself. I left work, changed, and set out again on the stygian streets of south London to catch a train bound for Penge. All around me, parents were encouraging gangs of small creepy-costumed children to harvest sweets from every household that put a candle-lit pumpkin head outside…
I’d arrived early at Bridge House to allow plenty of time for getting ghoulish before the artists of Anerley and Penge Life Drawing began joining us. Tatiana – the group’s organiser – had already prepared the pose space and piled trick-or-treat sweets on all the tables. With a sponge and brush she applied white and black Snazaroo paints to my face, taking care that the resulting design would be more skull than panda.
And so to work. Just like my last booking at the venue, this was to be a short pose session – always my favourites. Two poses of 2-minutes, three of 5-minutes and three of 10-minutes took us to our break. I tried to look bony throughout, which meant either extended bent limbs, or a thrust-out ribcage, or being twisted and knotty while seated. In the second half, my three poses of 15-minutes were: seated; standing; reclining.
I enjoyed the evening. The theme and circumstances provided a good opportunity for settling into some thoughtful poses that could either be interesting and varied in their own right, or offer suitable inspiration for the drawing of skeletons. After we’d packed away and enjoyed a post-session drink and chat, I headed back north on the London Overground… while still painted skull-like. Sometimes it’s nice to take work home.
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.
steve ritter 