“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.
Three months on from my first visit to Bridge House, I was back posing for Anerley and Penge Life Drawing. It being mid-springtime, our natural light lasted longer, the ambient temperature was well warmer, yet the ambience of the room was every bit as friendly as it had been in late winter. Ten artists had come along to draw, and I was to present them long poses. “Long” in this instance is a relative measure as, rather than lasting hours, these poses would range from a quarter to half an hour.
I began standing with hands behind my head for 15-minutes, then followed it sitting on the floor for 15-minutes with my face buried in the crook of my elbow upon a chair – a current favourite pose. After this I sat on said chair for 30-minutes, taking us up to the break. For the second half of the session I stood for 20-minutes with legs crossed and one hand on the back of neck, and closed the evening’s work with 25-minutes back in the chair, lounging with my legs across one of its arms.
There was just time for me to check out the artists’ efforts before having to dash away. It’s amusing, when one has sat fully naked in front of a crowd of people for almost two hours, to see nearly half the artworks created were portraits. In the group’s small side room, however, there’s barely a couple of yards between the model and those drawing so it’s understandable they might not capture the full figure. Most importantly, they all seemed to enjoy themselves. I certainly did.
“That’s Glynis!” – We were walking along the sunlit saffron sands of Lido di Venezia when Esther recognised a voice calling her name. Sure enough, seated nearby on the beach was our performance artist friend, Glynis Ackermann. We hastened across to exchange a whirl of hugs and kisses. Having met unexpectedly in Venice a couple of months earlier, all three of us were back in town to perform as part of ‘Contemporary Venice: Architectures of Identities‘ at Palazzo Cà Zanardi. It would be special.
That serendipitous rendezvous with Glynis on our first trip to Venice had introduced us to the It’s Liquid group and their art events at Cà Zanardi. On returning to the UK, Esther had responded to their next call-out for artists, and been accepted. She would be performing a specially shortened version of Girl in Suitcase (with a little help from me) on the festival’s opening night. Only three days before flying out did we learn the excellent news that Glynis would be performing there too.
Festival doors were to open at 6pm on Saturday 30 April. Esther and I disembarked from our Alilaguna water bus at the Arsenale jetty about 48 hours before. We were met by Elena, our AirBnB landlady for the next five nights, and shown to our private apartment. Once we’d moved in, we practised walking our route to Cà Zanardi, then settled down for pizzas at Bar Cupido on the waterfront by Fondamente Nove. The sun was out, the sky was clear blue; we were in a good place on many levels.
Friday 29 April
Late next morning, we boarded a vaporetto from Arsenale to Fondamente Nove with our heavy loaded suitcase for Esther’s performance. We found the Cà Zanardi team busy with their preparations for opening night, but they allowed us time and room to have a full (clothed) rehearsal. I was given an area in one corner to set up our laptop and speaker for music, whilst Esther took centre stage on the ground floor between four pillars. The space and the acoustics were good. We left in a mood for posing.
After a late bruschetto breakfast-lunch at the nearby Tortuga pub, we headed across to the Lido for an afternoon in balmy sunshine. There Glynis spotted us and not only greeted us warmly but also invited us to participate in her own performance: Mobilé. Quickly we agreed, and were thus set to be part of two nude art pieces on Saturday. Esther celebrated in sunshine with naked handstand poses; there could hardly have been a greater contrast with the rain-swept nude poses of our last time here.
Heading back across the narrow Lido island, we popped into the magnificent Grande Albergo Ausonia & Hungaria hotel for an impromptu clothed pose and to admire its historic décor, then bumped into Glynis again while drifting back to the vaporetto jetty. As we crossed the lagoon, the sun set beautifully behind Venice’s sea-facing façade. That evening, after a frustrating hunt for local restaurants, we relaxed over fine dishes of linguine and gnocchetti at Osteria Ale Do’ Marie. Another good day.
Saturday 30 April
Relaxation continued into Saturday as we passed the time idling and writing near the Sant’Elena end of the island. By evening, however, as we arrived at Cà Zanardi for the performances, I was starting to feel a little tension. Not nerves, but a strong sense of responsibility and a desire to make the best impression. Glynis found us before 6pm and gave us a very short run through the moves for Mobilé. In no time at all, we were undressing beneath the blue and white paper art of Veronica Hodges.
When the gathered mass of art lovers had hushed, the three of us stepped forth, each holding an empty white picture frame. I stood centrally with my back to our audience; Glynis and Esther faced outwards, such that we were aligned at 120° angles. As the video and music of a previous Mobilé performance projected onto our naked skin, we lifted the frames and plied them in gentle motion. The piece lasted 10 to 15-minutes and felt wonderfully serene. I had a superb view of shadowplay on the wall behind us.
We were greatly appreciated, to the extent that Glynis led us out afterwards to take a second bow. One chap offered his congratulations and asked Esther and I to sum up in three words what it represented. I said: ‘beauty, movement, feeling‘. Still he wanted the core concept, so I referred him to Glynis. The next scheduled performance artist had not arrived, so Girl in Suitcase was to follow in 15 minutes; there was no time to lose. Esther went upstairs to undress while I positioned our suitcase and props.
The performance was refashioned from Girl in Suitcase at the 2016 Telegraph Hill Festival with two main differences: first, it had been cut down to 20-minutes from the original hour; second, Esther had learned all its lines in Italian. This incredible woman never ceases to astonish me. We had assistance in the form of Veronica, who would hand out life drawing materials to the audience, but otherwise we were self-contained. As the crowd bustled below, I joined Esther to wrap her in bandages.
When she was suitably swathed I led her slowly downstairs and, concealed beneath my gown, she descended into the suitcase. I withdrew to my sound desk and, when those present had quietened, I began playing ‘Sanvean’ by Lisa Gerrard. This was Esther’s cue to emerge, graceful and slender, removing the bandages to stand nude and reborn before those watching. As I lowered the sound levels, she addressed the audience in their native tongue: confident, strong, with great presence.
She finished on cue at the end of Sanvean, and immediately I changed the mood by kicking into ‘Smoke in the Shadow’ by Lydia Lunch. Esther put on her red fetish stilettos, g-string and lipstick to pose with her tickling feather. She was portraying a journey of self-discovery, and the audience got into the drama of her performance by capturing these elements in their drawings. Only for 1-minute, however, as I lowered the volume once more, and Esther announced: “Here is the news.”
As at Telegraph Hill, Esther began reading a shameful list of global violence against women – only now translated into Italian. This was the cue for my first appearance. Dressed all in black, I knelt by the standing figure of Esther; I removed her stilettos, removed her g-string, slapped a rope down on the floor, put a bridal veil on her head, and held a large knife against her thigh, pointed at her vagina. I was the villain, but almost as quickly as I’d arrived I was dismissed with a sharp feminist broadside.
Esther tore off the veil, held up the knife, and delivered a last impassioned monologue in Italian while the audience captured her form on paper. She then explained that their next life drawing opportunity would be a movement pose – very slow at the outset, but speeding up considerably. I started playing ‘Free Money’ by Patti Smith and Esther started moving. I had about two minutes till my next transition, so I took the chance to do a little filming.
By the time Esther’s dance came to its frenetic conclusion, I was standing naked at the laptop. After taking a few seconds to control her breath, Esther reached carefully with her fingertips to remove her Mooncup. She inverted it, shrugging to show it was empty. I started ‘You are the blood’ by Sufjan Stevens, then walked to the centre of the room and folded onto my elbows and knees. Meanwhile, Esther took from the suitcase a small pot of recent menstrual blood and created art with it upon her legs…
I still regard this as the most raw and powerful part of the performance, representing a total reclamation of the feminine. Esther posed with one foot upon my back while the audience drew this extraordinary tableau. About 4-minutes in, the music segued to a section of ‘The Song of the Butterfly’ by Estas Tonne. We both stood and I picked up a tray of paints, which I would offer around so the audience might create their own art on Esther’s body.
Purely by chance, the first person I walked towards was Glynis. She understood what was required and boldly made the first marks – a perfect ice-breaker. Other audience members were a little more restrained but several stepped forward, took a brush, and applied their chosen colour. I contributed a few swirls myself, while Glynis returned to try finger painting. As Estas Tonne faded out, Esther paused a moment, then quietly said ‘Thank you’… and took her richly deserved applause.
Our audience placed their drawings on the floor. Poses had been quite short so there was little time for the creation of figurative masterpieces, but some of the more loose abstract work was fascinating. We could see the audience had clearly been engaged with ideas and challenges presented by the performance, and I felt their work was the strongest vindication of its validity. It took us a long time to clean up and pack away, which meant when the time came, we were last to leave Cà Zanardi that evening.
Glynis had waited for us, and together we went to a restaurant at Fondamente Nove. We sat outside and talked the night away over a meal. Esther was subdued, as she often is after giving so much to a performance and having to process the emotions it inspires, but Girl in Suitcase had been superb and our evening made more wonderful by the opportunity to support Glynis. Very generously, she paid for our meal and we hugged our goodbyes, dearly hoping to share another event some day.
Sunday 1 May
Before leaving Cà Zanardi, we’d put all our props and equipment back in the suitcase and brought it with us. It was a literal drag, wheeling it back to our apartment through the dark Venetian alleyways, but we happened upon a magic shortcut that somehow got us home quicker than expected. This closure meant we had the whole of Sunday and Monday in which to do whatever we pleased. Sadly, after three gloriously sunny days the forecast was for rain, but it wasn’t too bad by the time we got moving.
Originally our idea had been to escape the rain by viewing some art. We walked along the waterfront from Arsenale, passing Piazza San Marco, through alleys and across bridges to the Gallerie dell’Accademia, the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, and Santa Maria della Salute. The museum queues were ridiculously long, however, so we changed plan and instead went to the sedate rustic island of Sant’Erasmo. There, on a spur of lagoon marshland, I had my own mini naked photoshoot.
We’d seemed to be in complete isolation, yet no sooner had I returned to my clothes and pulled up my trousers than a couple of locals wandered by. What must they have thought of this scrawny naked Englishman posing at distance, being photographed by his performance artist partner? Ha. It had been nice to escape the crowds of tourists. The only disappointment had been our failure to buy veggies for a home-cooked meal that evening, so we returned to Bar Cupido for pizzas.
Monday 2 May
For our last day in Venice, we used the vaporettos to visit islands we had hitherto not explored. In the morning – after buying our veggies – we headed to Fondamente Nove, initially somehow walking in a completely circle – thereby proving that no matter how familiar we had become we this city, we could still go astray in its labyrinth of narrow paths. Once waterborne, we embarked on a mini tour of the northern islands: Burano, Torcello and Mazzorbo.
The numbers of other visitors, coupled with a persistent light drizzle meant we weren’t moved to indulge in further spontaneous random nakedness. Instead we talked about the performance, places we could make art, blogs we would write, our futures and our pasts. That evening we dined in and drank out before falling to bed early, ahead of our 4am departure from Arsenale for the airport next morning. We had enough veggies left for a cooked breakfast – to the very last, everything worked out pretty well.
After all
Back in the UK, we were excited to find a taster of Girl in Suitcase images published on social media – we now wait keenly to view the full set of official photographs from It’s Liquid. Having been so busy cleaning up after the performance we missed out on hearing direct feedback from the organisers and our audience, but reaction since has been favourable – Esther has been invited to return for further events. Girl in Suitcase is now an international artist: have suitcase, will travel.
I awoke in Venice with Esther at the equivalent of 1:45am, UK time. At 8am our flight touched down at Gatwick airport. I was home by a quarter to one in the afternoon. Shopping, showering and unpacking followed, after which I tried to grab some sleep but managed just an hour’s worth before being disturbed by the phone. Failing to drop off again, I did some computer stuff, prepared a light tea and then, at 6pm, headed off to Hackney for a spot of modelling.
After so much travelling, and such little sleep, I feared that exhaustion might catch up with me at some point; that in extremis, I might even nod off. I need not have worried, however. It’s such a lively life drawing group at The Star by Hackney Downs that I felt alert and in pretty good form throughout. Furthermore, it was the busiest I’d ever seen it, with perhaps as many as sixteen artists managing to draw comfortably in a relatively small space.
Catherine Hall called the pose times and suggested whether poses should be on a high stool, low stool, chair or the floor. It was pretty much all short and dynamic work, something I had been relying on to keep me awake: 5-minutes, 4, 3, 2, then three of 1-minute, three of 30-seconds, two of 10-minutes, a break, and finally 10-minutes and 20-minutes to a close. I felt I’d travelled far in the day, until Catherine told me she too would be visiting Venice at the weekend. It is, of course, a small world…
steve ritter 