First it was the turn of dancing Jesus. He emerged from Estelle’s bedroom clothed in bluey-violety tiger-striped stockings, orange patterned hot pants, a black embellished silk top, shimmering pink cape, turquoise mask with wig, and a silvery spiky cap. All of us assembled in the living room had seen drawings of the design but nothing could be so striking as the real thing.
“OK, who wants to go next?” asked Estelle. “Go on, Steve,” urged Esther.
Part 1 – a fitting
We were at the home of Estelle Riviere Monsterlune – artist, designer, maker of costumes, specialist in masks and hoods – for a fitting of outfits. It was the Sunday before her Friday fashion show. Eleven of us would be modelling with Estelle on an extravagant catwalk at opening night of the 2016 Loudest Whispers art exhibition for Camden and Islington LGBT history month. I stepped up to try on my garments.
Upon re-emerging, I was resplendent in a shin-length figure-hugging sleeveless purple dress, furry-orange fringed and heavily adorned. I wore purple gloves up to my biceps, a purple mask with elephant trunk and tusks, and a pink beret with badges and silver spikes. I was comfortable, more mobile than anticipated, and definitely in the spirit of my transformation. The outfit was greeted with universal approval.
Erika and Nico were next – both lithe and elegant – followed by Zoe and Esther. Zoe’s accessories concealed a hidden surprise, while Esther was most flexible in her slinky black bondage catsuit with its startlingly enhanced nipple-chained breasts – a perfect ensemble for Esther’s sleekly supple poise and movement. Other colourful characters followed. We knew we would have a lot of fun with this.
Part 2 – room 6
Come the big day, I met Esther outside King’s Cross station and together we walked to St. Pancras Hospital carrying our outfits in plastic bags. Our venue for the evening was to be the hospital’s conference rooms. “Do you know the way in?” asked Esther. “Let’s follow that person with pink hair,” I suggested. “Roz!!” cried Esther. By chance we had arrived at the same time as Estelle’s partner.
© Estelle Riviere Monsterlune
© Estelle Riviere Monsterlune
We followed Roz into the building, through the doors to the art exhibition, and swiftly detoured upstairs to conference room 6. Here we found Estelle together with models who’d arrived early, plus some mutual friends – including wonderful creative fetishist, Zac Zenza – and other extraordinary characters. In the middle of the room was a big table laden with drink and snacks; Esther added popcorn and wine.
© Estelle Riviere Monsterlune
© Estelle Riviere Monsterlune
We popped downstairs again for a look around the bustling colourful exhibition before getting changed. Among the artworks, I was flabbergasted to find a triptych of me by Luis Ruocco, created when I’d modelled at the Beehive last summer. All around us were glamorous folk, photographers, video interviews with the glitterati – it would have been nice to linger a little longer, but we were due back upstairs.
Models in the conference room were beginning to put on their finery, so we returned to our designated spaces at the table and followed suit. For the first time we were seeing everyone dressed up in the same place. Drawings of our outfits were stuck to the wall in the order we would take to the catwalk. Estelle flitted amongst us, smiling serenely as she made small adjustments to her works.
© Charlotte Erika
© Charlotte Erika
Part 3 – the catwalk
Our original intention was to be discrete and pass unobserved through the exhibition crowds to where the catwalk would begin. Ha! No chance. Without covering coats or robes, we strode brazenly through the whooping throng and crammed in as best we could behind inadequate screens to await a grand Monsterlune introduction from our compère, Mzz Kimberley.
Estelle © Zac Zenza
Delphine © Zac Zenza
Nico © Zac Zenza
Esther © Zac Zenza
‘Zarah‘ by Nina Hagen played and Estelle made her entrance, swanning about with magnificent affected grace while the audience adored her. At the moment in the song where glass breaks and a beat kicks in, we were all to follow, one after another, with Roz timing us to make our entrance at 22-second intervals. If I was ever going to feel nervous then this was the moment, but I was loving it too much.
Steve © Zac Zenza
Pauline © Zac Zenza
Joe © Zac Zenza
Psyche © Zac Zenza
After Estelle came Delphine, then Nico, and then it was Esther’s turn. How frustrating to be without my glasses and hidden out of sight when I would have loved to watch her in full provocative erotic swing. After 22 seconds, I followed her out and we indulged in an embrace, en passant as she returned. I now had the catwalk to myself; suddenly I felt clunky and inelegant. But, hey, I was a purple bondage elephant. Go me!
Zoe © Zac Zenza
Patrick © Zac Zenza
Erika © Zac Zenza
Jesus © Zac Zenza
Last to emerge were a splendidly poised, graceful Erika, and finally our dancer, Jesus. They entered to the sounds of ‘Heroes‘ by David Bowie – very much appreciated by the audience, so soon after the great man’s demise. We all returned to the catwalk for a wild group celebration at the close, and then Estelle took her bow in the company of anyone who could find room enough to join her. Wonderful moments.
Monsterlune © Zac Zenza
Esther, Nico, Delphine, Zoe, Estelle, Erika, Jesus © Zac Zenza
Part 4 – after show
Back among the mad throng we were the centre of noise and attention. Many wanted photos taken with, or of, us. We revelled in our fleeting celebrity. Esther and I tried to kiss but the best we could manage was to touch tongue-tips through our masks. She was eventually whisked away for a video interview while I hung back, pushing popcorn and marshmallows through the narrow opening into my mouth. Classy.
We were surrounded by familiar faces. There was Zac Zenza, of course, and Loulou Reloulou, who I’d shared a life art booking with in Herne Hill, and Amazing Mouse Amanda Hull, and we later found out that Jenny of Leytonstone life drawing was somewhere in the building, masked like us. Esther had wanted me to meet more of her magical friends, to immerse further into this scene, and I loved her for it.
Nawashi Murakawa © Alys Alice
Zac Zenza © Looby Love
Erika, Estelle, Steve © Amanda Hull
Esther
Steve
Despite all the fun, inevitably the crowds started to thin out, both upstairs and down. We reluctantly changed out of our gorgeous Monsterlune clothes. Most of our group would be heading up the road to The Constitution pub, and we were up for that. At the bar I got us a bottle of wine, and we mingled around as even more familiar faces poured in through the doors.
Jesus, Esther, Steve © Sue Kreitzman
Steve and Esther
Since I began nude modelling and art performance more than six years ago, I’ve been to extraordinary places and taken part in astonishing events. Esther had modelled for her good friend Estelle many times before, so through her I was offered the chance to savour this whole new experience. It was a privilege to work with such talented people, and a deep joy to share it with Esther.
Thank you, Esther. Merci, Estelle Riviere Monsterlune!
More images from the event:
Although I like to allow plenty of time to arrive when I’m booked at a venue for the first time, I hadn’t intended to be fully half an hour early. My timing was fortunate, however, as it meant I reached the front door of Portico Gallery at precisely the same time as life drawing group organiser, Chrissy. She kindly gave me a guided tour of the building, revealing its many levels and surprises.
I wouldn’t have guessed its unobtrusive little high street façade concealed a cavernous auditorium that in the nineteenth century was Knights Hall. Alas, I was not to follow in the footsteps of Charlie Chaplin by appearing here but instead was shown to a small upstairs room with life drawings papering the walls. Heaters were already switched on; it felt like a good space.
Chrissy herself is an outstanding artist who has drawn me superbly at The Sun pub in Clapham – see the red and blue works here – but tonight she was facilitating a 3-hour session for seven other artists. We began with a familiar format from The Sun: 5-minute, 4, 3, 2, 1-minute dynamic poses. I stood for the first four and went down on one knee for the last, all with reaching arms.
For a half-hour I sat in an old armchair with my limbs sprawled, then went 25-minutes standing with clasped hands, my forearms resting on a wooden pottery stand. For the final hour after a break, I was laying chest downwards but with a twist in my body and my legs hitched up. An electric blanket kept me warm, but the length and contortions of the pose meant it was quite uncomfortable by the end.
This was a pleasant group for which to model – friendly, as small groups so often are, with artists seemingly at ease talking about their work and making light conversation. The creative process was taken seriously but without formality; requested poses were imaginative and artists moved around to find the view they wanted. Overall, a pleasing début at an intriguing venue.
My February booking for Adrian Dutton – just like January’s – came with a co-model. Eleanor, like Carlos at Eastbourne House, had previous life modelling experience but is now re-establishing herself after taking time out. She arrived at the Garrett Centre a couple of minutes before our 7pm start, so with little ado we entered the pose space.
We had another impressive assemblage of artists surrounding us. I stopped counting at 30, after which a few more arrived. While modelling, we worked at opposite ends of the central mats, swapping sides from time to time for variety. We started with poses of 10-minutes, then 2-minutes, 1-minute, 30-seconds, 5-minutes, 10 and 15-minutes.
The last pose before the interval was called as 25-minutes but Adrian had pre-warned us to expect it would overrun. He was as good as his word – by the time he emerged from the kitchen with a sparkler-decorated birthday cake for one of the artists, we had been in position for close on three-quarters of an hour.
After our break there was just time for a 10-minutes pose, which lasted a quarter of an hour, and a final 15-minute pose. There was a nice atmosphere about the room but my body didn’t quite feel on top form. That was a pity because when I arrived an artist had said, “You’re the model! Oh good!” I hope I delivered enough to meet the anticipation.
It started with a 5-minute pose seated on a high stool, and continued with a 4-minute pose on a lower one. Next came an ambitious 3-minutes of kneeling on the floor with my hands behind my head, and then 2-minutes sat upon a different high stool. Three 1-minute and three 30-second poses followed in a wide variety of strenuous reaching and thrusting stances.
After a couple more 5-minute poses, the first half ended with me curled down on the floor for 10-minutes. The time seemed to race by, as it so often does in the colourful convivial little space upstairs at The Star by Hackney Downs. This evening I was in the company of six artists plus group organisers Catherine Hall and Carla Nizzola also drawing.
This day – 2 February – was ‘Groundhog Day‘, so the suggestion arose to have the three favourite poses from the first half repeated in the second half but held for longer. It was a neat and novel notion except I usually select poses that take me to the limit of what I can endure in the time available for each one. Hence, lengthening that time could be a challenge, but I agreed to go along with it anyway.
I made minute modifications so that my 1-minute lunge with both arms thrust forward could now somehow last for 5-minutes. Next, the 3-minute pose seated on my heels, kneeling with hands clasped behind my head, was drawn out to 10-minutes. My final 10-minute reprise of sitting on the first high stool was simple by comparison. Overall I found it a tough but fascinating test of my commitment and adaptability!
Artworks were set out upon the floor at the end. Even with some new faces present, the quality remained high. An artist complimented me: “Great poses! I was at a life drawing group yesterday where the model moved one way and then another but they didn’t do anything! It was so boring I ended up drawing the other artists.” The words were much appreciated, and a helpful reminder never to get complacent.
There can be few sights more welcome to a life model in winter than that of a roaring fire next to their pose space. Upstairs at The Sun in Clapham, the flames were not exactly roaring, but even a gentle flicker in the grate is enough to warm the heart. A bumper turn-out of around 20 artists helped warm the rest of the room.
Julia was the facilitator for this Moon and Nude session. The last time she presided over my poses she’d kindly supplied me with a hot water bottle for extra comfort. Not this time, however, as apparently it had burst beneath some unfortunate model on a subsequent occasion. No scalding; just dampened pride, perhaps.
This evening I began by standing for 5-minutes with both arms bowed over in a lean to my left side. After this came 4-minutes with one arm at full stretch as if pushing away; then 3-minutes as if boxing; 2-minutes as if pulling a rope; and 1-minute down on one knee with both arms raised in a salute to the fresco-painted ceiling.
10-minutes standing, 15-minutes seated on the floor and 20-minutes reclining took us to our break. I ended with 42-minutes sitting with my torso twisted on a high stool. I’d made this last one way too strenuous for its length of time, and thus was numb, taut and trembling when finally a halt was called… but extraordinary art eased my pain.
“Sit in a comfortable pose on that stool – we’ll begin,” suggested Lisa. “Nonchalant, like?” I queried. “Yes, nonchalant.” Artists were still very much in the act of arriving, selecting a free easel in one of the two rooms upstairs at The Prince Regent, and adjusting it according to their preferences. Yet time was upon us, so without further announcement I stripped naked and perched upon said stool, atop two tables.
I had started in the main room where I would be specialising in dynamic work. In the adjacent ‘blue room’, Pip, a new model, would be holding longer poses. Both rooms continued to fill until it seemed there wasn’t an easel to spare; I think we must have had between 20 and 30 artists present in total. Lisa cleverly arranges the space and lighting so even on busy nights the layout feels natural and organic.
After my initial open-ended pose – probably 10 or 15 minutes – I moved on to brisker work. 5-minutes, 5, 3, 2, 1, 1, 3 and 5-minute poses followed, mostly standing on the table tops. To complete the first half I went 10-minutes seated with one arm wrapped around one knee, and 10-minutes kneeling as if about to start a sprint. I was pleased with the latter as I’d overheard a murmur of doubt about whether I could hold it.
After the break I swapped rooms with Pip and finished the session with a single long pose that probably lasted about three-quarters of an hour. There was no applause at the end, as sometimes happens in life drawing groups, but afterwards several artists approached me individually and complimented my poses – that meant an awful lot to me. Thank you, artists of SketchPad Drawing.
A few things had changed since mid-December when I last posed for life art at The Russet café. The interior ceiling had been draped with a cone of turquoise silk, giving it an exotic tent-like appearance; a vast beanbag had materialised in the middle of the pose space for me to sprawl upon; and an all-new set of artists had come to draw.
What hadn’t changed, unfortunately, was the artist numbers. Yet again only two were in attendance. OK, a couple had cancelled late, and another apparently couldn’t find the venue, but this is such a friendly set-up that really it ought to be over-subscribed. Surely it will be when word gets out further among Hackney’s art enthusiasts.
The strength of this group remains the helpful pointers that its organiser, Catherine Hall, shares with each individual. It always seems in proportion to what each one is receptive to, and is genuinely informative. One artist here even went so far as to say their work had improved noticeably between arrival and the interval.
Poses were 10-minutes, 5, 4, 3, 2, three of 1-minute, three of 30-seconds, and then 20-minutes to the halfway point. After a break, we ended with 5-minutes, 10-minutes and 20-minutes – the last three all being on that mighty beanbag. I was comfortable, pretty warm and, as always, glad to be modelling at Hackney Downs Studios.
steve ritter 