- standing, leaning back, left hand over face, right hand reaching to the right
- standing, body twisted to the left, both arms reaching over, left and down
- standing, bent and crouching slightly to the right, both hands on head
- standing, upright with both arms gesturing up towards the left
- standing, legs crossed, arms crossed, hands on shoulders
- kneeling, facing to the right, like a sprinter about to start
- sitting, legs crossed in a full lotus position, hands on knees
- sitting, legs bent to the left, hands on the floor to the right
- standing, left hand on left hip, right hand on right side of neck
Then came my first 45-minutes in the pose that would take us through the remainder of the session. On this, my second visit to Lochaber Hall I was being drawn and/or painted by three female and three male artists, plus the group’s organiser, David. On my first visit just three male artists had been there, but now the group was possibly up to full strength. A nice, if rather quiet, atmosphere carried us through to our break for tea and digestive biscuits.
During this interval I felt immensely flattered when one of the artists asked me if I was a dancer. I replied that in the evening I would be going to a party, with dancing certain to happen, but this was the limit of my talents. After some pleasant conversation and a couple more digestives I resumed my long pose – sitting on the floor, as requested, similar to the long pose of my previous visit – and continued thus for 55-minutes, with one short break to stretch my limbs.
This was a 3-hour Saturday session, from 9:30am to 12:30pm. The three male artists slipped away separately in their own time, but those that went the distance had good work to show for it, and were positive in their feedback. I couldn’t stay chatting for too long, however, as that afternoon I was set to be cycling nude around London for about three hours – more of which in a later blog! For now, I just hoped I hadn’t over-exerted my legs in pose. The spring in my step as I walked away suggested all was well.
I particularly enjoyed this session. I have modelled at Eastbourne House in Bethnal Green many times; it is a wonderful space in which to pose for dozens of artists, but the pleasure of working on any given evening has as much to do with its atmosphere, the ambience, artistic inspiration and my personal mood. All that this evening lacked was its organiser, Adrian Dutton, who was away on personal business. On the plus side, however, it was great to see his partner, Anya, temporarily back at the helm.
Anya attended to finances and catering, while responsibility for timing my poses was handed to Gareth, an experienced artist and regular here. Adrian normally calls out a particular length of time then leaves me to choose the pose, but Gareth had ideas of his own that I was happy to try. After a pose of 10-minutes, and four of 2-minutes, he called for four identical-but-rotated 5-minute poses at all four corners of the space. A 15-minute pose closed the first half.
Thursday nights here are cheese and wine nights, and come the interval I made sure I was first to grab a measure of both before the artists descended like locusts. With the space fleetingly empty, I took a leisurely wander around to admire works that were left on chairs and the floor. The standard was pleasingly high. After some amiable chatter, Gareth asked if I would mind informally starting the second half with an unannounced 5-minute pose. I obliged.
We ended the session with 15-minutes and 10-minutes in similar stances at opposite corners of the space, followed by 30-minutes on my back with both forearms and one knee raised up. I could have gladly nodded off during this final one, and only the need to keep my hands in position prevented me from doing so. Many estimable drawings were created. It had been a pleasure to work for Anya and Gareth, and I look forward to resuming with Adrian in September.
“Why do I have to be naked..?”
“Because you’ll be in the bath!”
Wearing nothing but bandages on my head, I’d just been led down a flight of stairs and was standing before 21 artists and a fabrication of chairs, boards and materials that would serve as a make-believe tub. It may seem unlikely, but this construction somehow appeared rather authentic, and so did I. For the next half an hour, I was to be the corpse of 18th century French journalist Jean-Paul Marat, for ‘Revolutionary Deaths: Art Macabre at UCL Art Museum‘.
The Death of Marat by Jacques-Louis David.
It was my first appearance of the year for Art Macabre, and my first time ever at UCL Art Museum, in central London. The event had a French Revolution theme. Artists were invited: “Join us for a unique evening of drawing and history. View the exhibition ‘Revolution under a king’ and draw life models posing in theatrical tableaux, capturing the spirit and drama of the French Revolution. Create your own illustrations from these key moments in history.”
Liberty Leading the People by Eugène Delacroix.
I was one of two models booked for the occasion. First to pose was my good buddy Louise, who would be representing Marianne, allegorical spirit of liberty adopted by the French Republic. She had played this role just a couple of weeks before for The Secret Drawing Club, which she organises with husband Nick. They’d both arrived armed with rifle, bayonette, spear, flags and assorted other props to compliment her magnificent poses for 5, 10 and 30-minutes.
While Louise posed for an arc of artists in the exhibition room, I was out of sight on a balcony immediately above. Art Macabre chief, Nikki – aka Raven Rouge – described the historical context before each pose, and then gave it a contemporary bite with her accompanying riot grrrl playlist. Afterwards, I had enough time to pop downstairs and photograph a few of the drawings that had been inspired. The standard was high and I was keen to see what they would make of me.
“I need you to take your shirt off and I need you to be naked.” It was time to conclude my transformation into Marat. Bandages had already been applied to my head, and a floppy fringe of hair drawn on my forehead. Now I was to have a bloody wound painted on to my chest – significantly more gory than was depicted in the famous painting by Jacques-Louis David but, of course, this was Art Macabre. And the nakedness? Well, that’s just what we do.
It was only a single, well-cushioned seated pose lasting half an hour but it was tough going. My head had to be completely lolled over on one side, and my neck stretched taut throughout. It became painful quite early on and remained thus for the duration. I was mindfully counting down the seconds from about a third of the way in. As hoped, however, some excellent drawings were the reward for my suffering. That, and a little red wine. It felt good to be back.
“Disaster! I can’t make the class! The trains. Unofficial strike.” So began a busy text message I received five hours before my début at Diorama Arts Centre – sent by the chap who had booked me. It was followed by many words of comfort and reassurance about how the class would still go ahead and I would be looked after by the regulars; I savoured the frisson of uncertainty.
I arrived around 15 minutes early at the centre’s reception area and was directed to a ground floor room at the far end of a rabbit-warren corridor. Usually I arrive at a group and find someone in the throes of setting-up, but here the room was utterly devoid of people and objects. This remained the case nearly up until the moment we were due to begin the session.
Cometh the 6:15pm start time, a head poked round the door and offered a reassuring ‘hi’. At last I felt confident I had come to the right place. I volunteered my services for preparing the space, and the pair of us navigated corridors, stairs and umpteen doors to find a storeroom of art materials on the floor above. Boards, papers, a large box of pens, pencils, charcoals… quite heavy but we got it all down in one trip.
When we returned to the art room we found another chap busily setting out chairs. It didn’t take too long to complete our preparations. By the time we were ready to start, there were six artists in attendance, all from the same company of animators. Two of them would share responsibilities for timing the poses; I asked if they would like any particular format, but they were happy to leave the choice of pose to me.
We began with six poses of 3-minutes each. Being animators, I had wondered if they would appreciate a movement sequence, but they were unconcerned – this was their free time and I believe they were happy enough just working on their skills at drawing the human figure in any variety of stances. I gave them six standing poses, switching direction and dynamism at each change.
Poses of 7-minutes, 10-minutes and 10-minutes completed our first half. After a short interval, in which we admired the works produced thus far, we completed the session with two poses of 20-minutes: one sitting, one reclining. Aside from a cold-blowing air conditioner that finally got through to me during the last pose, this was a nice relaxed session. For a group with an absent organiser, it had been very well organised.
“The long and very lean Steve Ritter will be modelling for us again on Wednesday making for deliciously Schiele-esque studies“
So said the Facebook publicity for my return to the life drawing group run by Ceri Ann Littlechild at Cockpit Arts. I hadn’t been asked beforehand to pose specifically in the Egon Schiele style – indeed, Ceri suggested later that whatever my body did, it would naturally present that style – but I took a little time to remind myself of some classic Schiele poses before leaving home.
Upon arrival I found Ceri preparing easels, and Esther wondering where on Earth I had been. She’d come along to draw me, and had reached the venue from a modelling job in Hammersmith sooner than I imagined possible. Meanwhile I’d been dawdling along, posting one of these blogs on social media – the sinkholes of productive time. When half a dozen artists had joined us, we were ready to begin.
Ceri started her mellow playlist, and I started my opening short poses: 1-minute, 2, 3, 5 and 5-minutes to begin. Schiele’s poses are particularly angular, taut and unnatural so I attempted a couple of the trickier ones during this quick-fire sequence. The next two poses of 10-minutes and 20-minutes were favourites from my own repertoire, and took us to our break for wine.
Two poses of 20-minutes closed the evening session. For the first, I sat upon the arm of a sofa and made Schiele-esque shapes with my limbs. I asked the group what they would like for the last pose, and Ceri suggested simply sitting facing forwards. To mix it up, I held one knee crooked, which possibly undermined her required foreshortening effect but I felt it made the pose more interesting from multiple angles.
I had been a lot of fun – or rather, as much fun as it’s possible to have whilst entirely motionless, silent, and devoid of interpersonal engagement. I love the pose space at Cockpit Arts, it’s one of the best, and I love working when Esther is present. When I had dressed and she’d packed away her drawings we toddled off together for a meal at nearby L’Osteria 57. Now, it’s about time I drew Esther again…
I arrived at Mall Galleries about a quarter of an hour early and observed the clusters of artists forming around the pose spaces; as ever at Hesketh Hubbard Art Society, there was to be a clothed portrait pose, plus 15-minute and 30-minute nude poses in the main gallery. The portrait session had attracted its modest loyal following, while a similar number attended the 30-minute pose space. Meanwhile a crowd roughly three times the size had formed a dignified clamp around the platform for shorter poses.
I smiled indulgently as I descended the stairs to where I would present four 30-minute poses. The young female model providing eight 15-minute poses was a professional dancer, so I ought to be grateful that anybody was drawing me at all. Setting aside self-deprecating paranoia, however, I am very aware how seriously this experienced society takes its art. I was grateful they had booked me, and that an appreciation of the human form extended, for some, to a study of my own unusual proportions.
Having been introduced to the society as a model by Esther, this was to be the first time I had worked here without her also being present; previously we had duo-posed twice, and worked solo on the same night once. It was heart-warming that so many artists approached me to ask after her, and when they might draw her next. She has modelled here over so many years that one senses the relationship extends beyond professional respect to one of community or even family. Whatever, it’s lovely.
For me on my fourth visit, I still needed to earn my spurs. Previous visits had all been on half-hour poses too, so I’m getting the hang of it. Normally I would try to start with the hardest pose and then make them proportionally easier to balance the increasing strains my body would feel. On this occasion, however, I somehow contrived to make them progressively more uncomfortable, but not horrendously so; I was almost sleepy during my final twisted reclining pose.
Once up and re-humanised, I chatted again with the artists. Throughout the evening, when not posing, I’d been treated kindly; engaging conversations, showing artworks, one chap even taking my details for potential future bookings. It was particularly nice to catch up with the artist Lesley Dabson; the first two portraits on this blog are her art. Following my last visit here, I bought one her studies of me and Esther together (below); it now hangs on my hallway wall at home. Altogether a happy visit.
83a Geffyre Street, in Hoxton, north London, is the latest venue for the life drawing groups of Adrian Dutton. It would be the fifth space in which I’d modelled for him, others being: Eastbourne House and the Garrett Centre in Bethnal Green; the Rose Lipman Building in Islington; and Bourne & Hollingsworth Buildings in Clerkenwell. Eccentric numbering of buildings and railway arches on either side of Geffrye Street made this one a little tricky to find at first.
Once inside, I ascended to the first floor and found a pleasant, airy room with lots of natural light. It seemed smaller than Adrian’s other spaces, but every one of its four walls was lined with chairs. By the time we reached the end of the first pose, every chair was taken. It is a tribute to Adrian that he is able to attract such relative high numbers of artists – perhaps 30 or 40 here – to a group only recently established. Amidst all the newness, the structure of the evening was familiar.
I began with a 10-minute standing pose that allowed time for latecomers to arrive and settle down. Then came the short work: 3-minutes, 2, 1, 5-minutes. The next poses were supposed to be 15 and 20-minutes but the first one overran to 20-minutes, so a 15-minute pose took us to an interval. As ever, Adrian provided hot food and a wide selection of teas and biscuits. After the break, poses were 10-minutes, 2, 1, another 15-minute pose that ran to 20, and finally 20-minutes reclining.
I felt comfortable throughout. The night was warm, the floor well padded, there were familiar faces among the artists but the majority were new to me and quite young in comparison with many groups. Adrian offered some tips to newcomers, whilst most were quietly meditative. The only disturbance came from a chap outside who stood beneath our open window and embarked on a long, largely incoherent phone call. It afforded a snigger or two, but our atmosphere was unspoiled. Another good session.
steve ritter 