I am a hypocrite. When I’m life drawing – those rare occasions – I prefer longer poses; at least 10 minutes, ideally 20 minutes, maybe longer. When modelling, however, I’m fervently in favour of dynamic work. I consider long-pose bookings an important part of a multi-disciplined job, not necessarily an enjoyment – thus, I wasn’t hugely relishing my long-pose booking at the Garrett Centre, but it’s a good group.
The trouble with long-pose work is threefold: First, the choice of pose is greatly limited if it has to be sustained for hours. Everything that involves muscular tension, balance, or uneven weight distribution is firmly ruled out. Second, it’s just plain boring to remain motionless in the same posture for so long. Third, no matter what the choice of pose, aches and numbness are almost inevitable.
It wasn’t all tedious, though. To begin with, a series of short poses was requested as a warm-up for the artists. I went 5-minutes, 5-minutes, 5-minutes and 7-minutes, all standing, alternating direction each time. Then came the long one. I chose a seated pose on a low stool, with my left leg crooked beneath my body, my right leg hooked backwards with toes on the floor, and both arms passive. Not comfortable, but OK.
I maintained the position for 35-minutes up to a break for pizza, garlic bread, biscuits and tea. Fortunately most artists were happy to socialise rather than hastily resume their drawings. After this interval, I went a further 70-minutes – with one late stretch break – up to the finish. Hearty applause was forthcoming, so I guess my endurance was appreciated. Job done, I shook out my pains and left, happily intact.
Part 2 of my visits to life model at Morley College continued in much the same vein as the previous week, albeit with a reduced class. Last time there were five (mature) students present from the class of six. This time the missing person came along, but three others had excused themselves – all prearranged, nothing personal. It made for a quieter, uncluttered session in what is a very nice environment to work.
We would begin with three 10-minute poses. Gillian, the tutor, showed me an art book with photographs of muscular, athletic models, performing all manner of contortions. I consented to attempt three of these. For the first I perched upon the corner of a table, reaching behind me with head thrust back; it was excruciatingly painful on the back of my neck. The rest proved tough but less severe.
Next I put one knee on the table and leaned forward so that my standing leg and body made a straight diagonal. Finally I sat cross-legged upon the table, leaning to my left with my right hand raised to my head. Warm-up complete, I returned to the long pose with which I’d closed the week before. I was to hold it for 35-minutes up to an interval, and a further 50-minutes – with one stretch break – afterwards.
Meanwhile, Esther was posing in Hampstead. Before starting she had posted online 30 photos of recent artwork that she’d inspired. As I flicked through these during our interval, I found a couple in which she’d held the exact same diagonal pose I’d been asked to assume just an hour earlier. I suppose some art books must be a standard reference for torturing models… but we love it, that’s why we keep coming back.
The setting for my second time modelling at The Bartlett School of Architecture was so utterly dissimilar to the first that it almost felt like work for a different group. Instead of occupying a small enclosed room in the building at 140 Hampstead Road, we were at the centre of a large, carpeted, curtained-off space within the complex at neighbouring no.132.
That wasn’t all that had changed – instead of having my back to the wall, I was now posing in the round; instead of half-a-dozen male artists, it was now a mixed group at least twice the size; and instead of needing heaters, I was comfortably warm with the ambient temperature. Consistency came in the form of the group’s kindly attentive organiser, Cova, plus her cool music playlist and the preferred pose lengths.
The session started late as artists were still arriving well after the scheduled time of 7:30pm. Once underway poses in the first half were 7-minutes, 2, 2, 1, 1, 1, 5, 5 and 10-minutes. After a break, I finished with 25-minutes reclining and 30-minutes sitting on the floor. Part way into the reclining pose, the temperature seemed to plummet significantly, but I made it to the end with no more than a couple of shivers.
Indeed I only encountered two difficulties: firstly, getting to the gents’ toilets, which for some reason – unlike the ladies’ – were behind a swipe-card security door; secondly, getting out of the building to go home. It’s such a rabbit warren, I couldn’t retrace my steps and eventually had to be shown the way. Curious that such issues should arise in a building for architects! Nonetheless, I give a big thumbs-up for the new space.
The first fortnight in March was a notably busy time for Spirited Bodies. Within the space of two weeks, Esther – Artistic Director of Spirited Bodies – held a women’s workshop, an older women’s workshop, a mixed gender event, and a women’s event with theatrical elements. All featured multi-models – some first-timers, others more experienced – and sought to help individuals find empowerment through art.
The events for women, including those who identify as women, were naturally out of bounds for me, but I was given the opportunity to model within the mixed event. This formed part of the Telegraph Hill Festival, and was presented in collaboration with the Telegraph Hill life drawing group, for whom I have modelled solo on several previous occasions.
A flurry of late drop-outs meant that, perhaps uniquely, we kicked off with no first-time models, just five of us with previous form: Esther herself, Cy, Ian, Leonora and me. On the plus side, despite several artists also dropping out, we still had about as many as could comfortably be accommodated within our space at the Telegraph Hill Centre. Frances – the regular life drawing group’s organiser – called our pose times.
To begin with, models were divided into two groups. Frances suggested an opening 5-minute pose that separated girls (Esther, Leo) from boys (Cy, Ian, me). I paired with Esther for the next 5-minutes, after which Cy joined her in two 10-minute duo poses, initially standing beneath his umbrella, and later sitting on the floor. In each instance the other models arranged themselves as a threesome.
15-minute poses came next. Ian sat next to a reclining Cy, the latter holding his fine snake-carved walking stick, whilst Leo, Esther and I worked the adjacent space. Leo sat on the floor, Esther balanced on her knees behind Leo, and I sat beside Esther with my arms around her waist and my head nestling on her ribs. Respect is due for Esther’s pose; it might look simple, but it’s especially tough on knees and thighs.
The final pose before our interval was to last 10-minutes. Ian, Leo and Cy stood with arms around each other’s waists or shoulders, side-by-side like the Three Graces of Telegraph Hill. Meanwhile, I sat on the floor, my back to the wall, with Esther cradled between my legs and our limbs intertwined. It was a cosy end to a very nice first half. After the break, all models would come together as a single group.
Before we resumed, a male artist asked if he could undress and join us in the poses. Frances readily agreed, whilst Esther let him know just how lucky he was – normally strict vetting rules apply but we were all well experienced and, in the absence of other debutants, his involvement enhanced the Spirited Bodies ethos. Part 2 started with a 20-minute pyramid pose: Esther and me standing; others seated around us.
To finish, we all lay down upon the floor to form an irregular river of naked humanity. In many respects it was a 15-minute reprise of the ‘water’ pose from Spirited Sound at Bargehouse last November. Esther lay across my chest and our fellow models also connected, making themselves comfortable. It was a beautiful experience to breathe in time with Esther and allow ourselves to float away in the moment.
All too soon we were done and back in our clothes. As is traditional, artworks were set out upon the floor for general admiration. I particularly adored the red pen work of our friend Lily. Her economic marks were laden with so much energy and personality. Indeed, several artists had produced very impressive renderings of multiple figures in such little time. Spirited Bodies still makes magic happen.
Life modelling is another country. At least, that’s how it seems when one has to produce one’s passport before disrobing. Modelling for academic institutions is notoriously more bureaucratic than work for groups in community halls or pubs, so ahead of my first booking at Morley College I had to observe the ritual of proving my identity, plus form-filling. Students at Morley can rest assured their seat of learning is meticulous in its recruitment.
Once the preliminary paperwork was dealt with, I could begin what turned out to be a thoroughly enjoyable session, for five students and their tutor, Gillian. During our three hours, the plan was to start with a series of 10-minute short poses, then take a break, and afterwards hold a single long pose that would be resumed the following week. For the short work, in the round, Gillian suggested that poses be around, on and under a central table.
To begin with, I stood side-on to the table and twisted my torso to arch across it, holding both edges. Next I stood at the opposite side, with one knee on the tabletop. Gillian had specifically requested one pose be beneath the table; when I obliged, she asked if it could be for 15-minutes. No problem. The final two 10-minute poses – one seated entirely upon the table, the other perched on one side – were also lengthened to 15-minutes midway through, with my consent.
For the long pose, we tried several variations of me sitting upright on the floor before settling upon one that was popular with everybody. As with the shorter poses, they wanted tension and angles, yet only so much is possible when a position must be held for a few hours rather than a few minutes. The final choice was remarkably close to the 2-hour pose I’d held at Lochaber Hall only the Saturday before. It had proved popular there too.
A matter of debate amongst life models is whether it’s ever appropriate for photos to be taken of models at work. On this occasion it seemed the most practical way to record a complex pose, such that I could be guided back into it a week later. Gillian gave me all manner of assurances and I gave her carte blanche. There will be shorter poses next week too; I very much look forward to returning… and handing in the last of my paperwork.
My début life modelling at Lochaber Hall, early Saturday from 9:30am to 12:30pm, was not confirmed until after 5pm the evening before. Late changes to arrangements led to me being welcomed as a replacement for Esther. As the community centre is just a half-hour’s walk from her home, it could hardly have been more convenient.
Lochaber Hall itself is spacious, and the freezing cold outside was able to permeate its walls without much difficulty. Mercifully, I was to be surrounded by three heaters, stood in close proximity, which did their job as well as could be hoped. As a clue to the ambient temperature, however, when dressing at the end of the session, I found that my watch had stopped within moments of me taking it from my wrist.
In the three-hours available, I started by providing seven 5-minute poses, followed by two 10-minute poses. Then, after a five minute break, I settled into a 2-hour pose (in practice it was from 10:35am to 12:30pm with a fifteen minute interval from 11:15am and a stretch late on). I knotted my legs for the long pose, which made the last hour tough but survivable.
The group is usually small, and on this occasion was even smaller; three artists plus the organiser, David, instead of an expected half-dozen. Nonetheless, after the initial shock of finding 6’4″ skeletal Steve would be modelling instead of 5’4″ slinky Esther, they appeared appreciative of my efforts. Upon being asked if I would consider future bookings, I was happy to reply ‘most certainly’.
Of course, a nude photo shoot was never part of the plan. After efforts to organise life modelling and performance events in Bucharest had amounted to nothing in January, Esther and I decided to use our few spare days at the end of February as a relaxing holiday. Somewhere nice, not too cold, beside the sea… so we went to Venice. The weather forecast was for rain throughout, but we would have a good time.
Part 1 – Venice
We’d taken rooms in an apartment on the island of Giudecca, just opposite Piazza San Marco in the Venetian Lagoon. Neither of us felt a particular compulsion to do all the things that tourists are meant to do in Venice but it is a city of romance and a city of art, and when art is a part of your being, then either you will find it or it will find you. Even our landlady turned out to be an artist and former life model.
Another extraordinary coincidence was the surprise discovery, on our third night, that my friend Glynis Ackermann was in town. She co-performed ‘Foil‘ at the opening of ‘Liquid Rooms / The Labyrinth‘ – billed as an “experimental video and performance arts festival” – at Palazzo Cà Zanardi the evening before. I sent a message to ask if she would be repeating her nude art performance the next day.
Come the morning of Sunday 28 February, Glynis hadn’t replied but we resolved to go along to Cà Zanardi anyway and see what we would find. One way or another we were certain to see plenty of interesting contemporary art. First, however, we would engage with some altogether more historic Venetian Gothic splendour, visiting the magnificent Doge’s Palace at Piazzo San Marco. Poses were tried and spied.
Part 2 – performance
We made it to Cà Zanardi around four o’clock in the afternoon. Although able to enter unimpeded, it was apparent that staff and artists were midway through preparing for a performance that evening. They advised us to come back at 5:30pm, so after admiring some of the art on the walls, we wandered around the back canals, the walkways and bridges to kill time with coffees at the Tortuga pub.
Back at Cà Zanardi we had no sooner arrived than the performance began. Not Glynis this time, but some mesmerising improvised dance by Marjolaine Uscotti and a male partner against the backdrop of her ‘Tangenze‘ video. With complimentary prosecco, we watched two performances. Just as a third was about to start, Glynis entered the room. She was as delighted to see us and we were to see her.
Sadly we learned that Glynis’s performance had been a one-off, but we had no regrets that such a lovely unexpected convergence had brought us together at this place. The three of us went for dinner together, chatting about life, art, and a world of possibilities. When Esther and I eventually waved Glynis goodbye and ran home through the rain, it was with feelings of joy and inspiration.
Part 3 – Lido
Next morning, we found the weather had much improved. Sure, it was overcast, chilly, with clouds foreboding rain, but our moods were bright. We had a late brunch, left our Giudecca apartment, and took a vaporetto across to San Marco from where we would get a connecting service to Lido di Venezia. Glynis was already on her way back to Switzerland, but Esther and I were going to the seaside.
We walked directly across the narrow width of the island to its long eastern shoreline buffeted by the Adriatic Sea. This was very much the Lido out of season, with all its grand old hotels shuttered, and with banks of sand piled high to protect sun terraces from the elements. With winds and lightly spitting rain at our backs, we strolled hand in hand along the near-deserted beach.
Apart from the occasional dog walker and a handful of surfers in the distance, we had the place to ourselves. So I thought: why not have a spontaneous nude outdoor photo shoot? We rolled the idea between us as we walked further. Yeah, let’s do it! First we glanced around for somewhere to leave our clothes. We let a jogger pass by. Nobody else was in view. I said, “I’m doing it.”
Part 4 – nakedness
On a concrete groyne down by the water’s edge, I started to undress. Heavy coat first, then shoes and socks. I handed Esther my little Canon Ixus camera and looked in all directions; still no-one else in view. Jeans and boxers came off next, and finally fleece and shirts. It was bitterly cold, with wind and rain raking my skin. We would be quick: first I stood at a distance, then came nearer, then turned as if gazing along the coast.
This was not fine art nor great photography, but it was raw, and it was real, and it was exhilarating. I speedily dressed and took the camera from Esther. It was now her turn, yet she had even more clothes than me to fight herself free from. Still no-one else was in view, and soon enough Esther was naked. She took the same positions as me and, being a true professional – even when on holiday – put everything into the poses.
It occurred to us subsequently that, in this weather, under cloudy skies, with nothing recognisably Venetian in view we might just as well have bagged these images back in England. But we didn’t; this was Venice and we were well pleased. Only when the last of Esther’s clothes were back on did a passer-by appear and stand watching us. They were too late… the job was done.
Part 5 – Giudecca
That evening on Giudecca we had pizzas and wine at our local restaurant. It was our last night in Venice. What was meant to be a straightforward vacation – a change of scenery away from our beloved London – had turned into something magic that whet our appetites for more artiness in a variety of forms. We wanted to perform, to model, to play, and to be at large in the world.
Next morning we wandered along the waterfront and partook of leisurely coffees before setting off to the airport. For the first time since our arrival, the sun was out in a sky of brilliant blue. Venice had never looked more beautiful, yet now it was time to go home. There are futures in which we return and immerse ourselves further in this unique city. Let’s see if we can make them happen.
steve ritter 