In a darksome, red-hued back room of The Book Club basement bar in Shoreditch, the green Snazaroo was running low. Unsurprisingly, maybe, as it had been used to colour me all over from hairline to toenails. I was just applying the finishing touches of paint to my penis and scrotum when the poor barman walked by – it was a sight that he can never unsee…
This was Art Macabre: The Mighty Boosh Special. The rest of my green layer had been sponged on by Nikki – Art Macabre supreme director. I’d been quick in offering to take over before the matter became delicate. Here’s a top tip for life models: if you work with body paint, don’t make a laughing stock of yourself by expecting – or even asking! – someone else to paint your genitals. It’s a tad indecorous.
© Art Macabre
Matilda
Time for work. First to pose would be Nikki’s long-time friend Lorraine (‘of Terror’). She would be Matilda – shell-covered wife of seashell artist Ramsay in The Mighty Boosh episode: ‘The Legend of Old Gregg’. She was a blink-and-you-miss-her character, but then this was a series with very few female characters at all. Judging by our full-house of artists, however, it surely had a predominantly female following.
© Art Macabre
Old Gregg
After Matilda’s two 5-minute poses it was my turn to be Old Gregg himself. In addition to green skin, I had dark eyes, dark moustache, red lips, red tutu, pearl nipples and a green plastic seaweed wig. With a bottle of Bailey’s and a shoe from which to drink it, I posed for 10-minutes, 20-minutes and – by popular demand – an extra 5-minutes. In between, Nikki wove the storyline, and played Boosh extracts while artists sketched.
The Crack Fox
Next on stage was Raquel as The Crack Fox – furry-faced, faux fur stole and syringes for fingers, but otherwise fully nude. Whilst this exotic facsimile of the Julian Barratt original entranced our artists for 20-minutes, Nikki set about adjusting my greenery in the back room. Off came the seaweed, off came the tutu, and off came the gratuitous pearl nipples as I was transformed into another Noel Fielding creation.
The Hitcher
The combined body warmth of more than forty busy artists could not quite permeate to where I waited, so I hugged a coat tightly around my shoulders as Raquel’s pose came to an end. At the appointed moment I emerged once more, resplendent in red wig, top hat, a white sticky-tape triple cross on my chest and a giant Polo-mint over one eye. I was… The Hitcher! My friend Louise loaned a cane to perfect the look.
© Art Macabre
Nikki asked me to pose in a proper bandy-legged Cockney style to start, so I obliged for 5-minutes. Next I perched on a stool for 15-minutes, a tad more relaxed until Nikki burst forth as the evil screeching Nanatoo – a very noisy granny – to pose with me for another 15-minutes. But the poor old dear only lasted halfway till her back packed up and she needed a stool of her own. A final 5-minutes standing, and I was done.
© Art Macabre
Artworks
It had been a fun session. Nikki garnered applause for her models, and I reciprocated. Then came the chance to admire the artworks and attempt to photograph them in the dingy mottled light of the bar. After the artists left, we sifted through a pile of drawings that remained abandoned. We were rather taken aback when the one below surfaced. Ahh, maybe it was by the barman who walked in on my preparations…
This event was staged to coincide with The Boosh Club – an exhibition of previously unseen photography from designer, photographer and cast member Dave Brown aka Bollo, with selected works by: Noel Fielding, Ivana Zorn, Andy Hollingworth, Mr Bingo, and Jake. Catch it for free from 20 October 2016 until 29 January 2017. Thank you for joining us, Boosh fans!
In the fixed format of Hesketh Hubbard Art Society life drawing at Mall Galleries, models pose from 6pm sharp until 7pm; tea and biscuits are then taken for precisely fifteen minutes, after which there is a further hour of posing. During the two working hours, a clothed model sits for portraits, a nude model provides four half-hour poses, another offers eight quarter-hour poses, whilst in an adjacent space one final model delivers a single long pose. On this evening, I was that long pose model.
Although most artists cluster around the two shorter poses, the long pose always attracts a small yet loyal following. It’s also the only setting where the pose can be negotiated between model and artists. I was amenable to standing, sitting or reclining, but sensed I was being steered towards a seated pose. Whilst the easy option would have been to make myself comfortable in some kind of slouch, I decided I would treat them to a straight-backed, cross-legged, spindly posture; something a bit different.
Unlike other venues that facilitate long poses, there are no updates here on how much time has passed, nor even the option for models to stretch and relieve their numbness or pains. One simply has to find an appropriate state of mind and remain within it for an hour at a time. Fortunately my choice of pose never became unbearable; I wasn’t even told when time was up at the end of the session – only the sounds of a hubbub from the main space told me that it was probably OK to finish.
Gratification for my exertions came courtesy of thanks from artists. One in particular had been very pleased with my efforts, saying she’d: “been waiting ten years to draw that pose” – high regard indeed. I’ve never particularly been a fan of long poses, and given the choice would probably still opt for shorter, more dynamic work, but after a recent run of single-pose bookings I’m gaining greater appreciation for the discipline. Most important is a real sense throughout that artists are genuinely appreciative.
Evening life painting – session 2 of 4
I checked out the two heaters, then removed the neatly folded white sheet from my backpack and placed it on the floor in an exact tape-marked position. More tape to mark where my feet should stand remained on the sheet from my previous visit to The Conservatoire. Meanwhile, tutor David Webb was returning multiple easels to their precise positions from last week, and tables as closely as possible.
Seven of the previous week’s eight artists rejoined us; they prepared individual paint palettes, then resumed their works in progress when I returned to the position. Once again I would sustain a single long pose for 2-hours of a two-and-a-half-hour session, with a 15-minute break, plus brief stretches at roughly twenty-minute intervals. David visited each artist regularly to offer gentle critique and constructive advice.
Of me, David observed: “it’s like he’s constantly inhaling… which, of course, he isn’t!” It is true I’d been trying to hold in my stomach to accentuate my ribcage; not so easy after the pizza I’d eaten before leaving home. With so much attention to colour-mixing around me – the infinite variety of flesh tones – I could imagine my skin having pizza-like qualities. Halfway through four sessions, some very nice work is taking shape.
Evening life painting – session 1 of 4
After three Monday life drawing bookings at The Conservatoire in Blackheath, I was back within days to begin posing for Thursday life painting. Each life drawing session had been different, incorporating both short and long poses. For the oil painting class, there would be one single pose maintained across four evenings. Sessions would last two and half hours, within which I would be posing for 2-hours, with breaks.
I arrived early and chatted with tutor David Webb. Luck had been on my side as life drawing tutor Victoria Rance had recommended me at the very time he’d needed to book a male model. David explained that after three sets of three weeks with female models in seated or reclining poses, he wanted to finish the term with a contrasting male figure in a stark standing pose.
It may seem like I got a raw deal, having stand when those who went before could lay around in comfort, but to be honest I prefer to stand – tired legs recover more quickly than a numb bum. Posing with hands on hips made for a more dramatic posture, but also brought numbness to the wrists. Aside from a 10-minute half-time interval, I took three ‘shake-out’ breaks of a minute or two to recover sensation in my extremities.
In this session, the eight artists spent most of their time considering form, proportion and composition. During the last quarter, David encouraged them to begin blocking in colour, if they had not already done so. Several struggled – as so many do – with my unnaturally long legs; in David’s words at one point: “you’ve drawn a man, but it’s not that man.” I find it genuinely fascinating to listen and learn.
Committing to a group in this way – sustaining a long, taxing pose for several hours over several weeks – is daunting in prospect, as there can be no change of heart or omitting a week once work is underway. Fortunately, I feel good about this one; I’m enamoured with the venue, appreciate David’s positive words, and sense the artists’ commitment. It was an encouraging start that bodes well for the future.
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.
steve ritter 