For a while it seemed as though we might have a threesome. Within a semi-circle of artists, I was seated upon pillows with my back to the wall; Esther was between my legs, her back resting upon my chest. We were about ten minutes into a 60-minute pose after the interval when we noticed a third naked figure approaching from the art room doorway…
We’d been booked by Toynbee Art Club for a two-hour session of Valentine’s Day duo poses. The group’s organiser, Tim, gave us a free hand to select our own pose lengths, so we agreed to start with 5-minutes and 10-minutes standing, followed by three 15-minute poses, up to a break for tea and biscuits. A single long pose would occupy the final hour, to the session’s end.
We’d had an enjoyable time that morning practising nude poses together, finding out what was sustainable for short and long periods, both against a wall and in the round. For our first pose in the afternoon, I reached one arm over my head and held Esther’s raised right hand to support her in a one-legged stance. She didn’t need my support, of course; she can pose on one leg for quarter of an hour unaided when in the mood.
Our respective heights mean I tower over Esther when standing side by side. In other poses, however, we made a point of setting Esther to be the higher, apparently more dominant figure. Too often in multi-model mixed-gender poses, the male model takes a central, dominant stance, leaving the female model draped weakly around his legs, like clichéd figures from a 70s film poster. We wanted to redress the balance.
Comfort was essential for our final pose as it we would be holding it for a whole hour. But what about the third participant moving in on our romantic twosome? Very slowly the cat got nearer to us, strolled up to us, checked us out, but then wandered off to mingle with artists and continue its feline foraging. Alas, none of the artists included its furry form in their work, but they did us two humans proud.
The Male Intensive Enquiry Unit (Male IEU) is a small group of male artists who use drawing from life to drive a scrutiny of the male body that is “more critical and incorporates peer critique” to develop their thinking. Before visiting the Unit, I’d been asked if I would be comfortable with the concept of a single pose that had “a certain religious connotation“. Well, I thought, it’s not as if they’ll crucify me…
The Death of the Artist
I arrived early at The Armour Studio – home of Jonathan Armour – to join Jonathan and his five fellow artists for a preliminary group discussion. He opened by referring to Roland Barthes’s essay entitled ‘The Death of the Author‘ (1967), which suggested that no matter what meaning an author intends to convey in their work, the reader has total authority to read and interpret it in any way they wish.
This led Jonathan to ask the artists directly: in what aspect of human life is the male body most widely portrayed naked or nearly naked? The answer he had in mind was not immediately forthcoming, but gently he tilted the conversation towards churches displaying the crucifixion of Christ. Together we looked at the Isenheim Altarpiece (1512-16) and various other images of crucifixes.
The Death of the Model
A couple of the artists cast sideways glances at me, wondering if I knew what I’d let myself in for. In a private briefing with Jonathan beforehand, however, he’d disclosed his intention was indeed to crucify me – or least to hold me in a crucified position by means of leather wrist straps suspended from cord. I was somewhat surprised at my phlegmatic acceptance of this proposition.
The session would be divided into three periods, with artists working in pairs. During each period, two pairs would work on the floor with sheets of paper, 240cm by 56cm. The last pair would work on an unprimed canvas, 180cm by 93cm, propped against a wall. I would be strapped directly opposite with arms out sideways, horizontally, and legs straddling a large upward facing light bulb.
The objective of the artists was to scrutinise my naked crucifixion pose and to create works that a viewer would be unlikely to interpret as having any religious meaning or connection. With the challenge thus presented, I wondered how ever the artists could capture me faithfully without hinting at a crucified figure; I also wondered how on earth I could endure almost 2 hours with my arms outstretched.
Period 1 – 37 minutes
Period 2 – 47 minutes
Period 3 – 40 minutes
Intensive enquiry
From the opening moments of the first period I went into a calm meditation to observe my body inwardly and notice its changing sensations. My muscles were aware they were being asked to do something unfamiliar, but a faintly dull discomfort that made itself known at the outset never turned into pain. Even the vulnerability of my situation did not develop into a psychological source of concern.
Instead I watched and listened with calm fascination from my unique vantage point as pairs of artists discussed their approaches to cooperating on each piece. I saw works evolve, following their progression from concept to execution, and – when finally I was unstrapped at the end of each period – I joined in a collective analysis of the artworks created, albeit offering only tentative contributions.
The session was intriguing, instructive and enjoyable. Whilst the novelty of having a naked crucified man strapped to the wall was lost on nobody, this was nonetheless a genuine, serious artistic practice. The nine pieces produced were remarkably diverse, technically well considered, and all achieved their stated objective. For me, it was yet another new and greatly rewarding modelling experience.
The Armour Studio blog:
“Change, darling!”
These words called out by Esther at Mall Galleries were music to my ears. We were posing separately in the same space for Hesketh Hubbard Art Society – Esther was presenting eight 15-minute poses, while my shifts were four of 30-minutes – and I was being troubled by searing cramp.
I had never previously experienced cramp during a pose, yet it afflicted me 25-minutes into my third half-hour here, following a break for tea and biscuits. It should have been the easiest as I lay across cushions in extreme comfort with one crooked knee raised up, but fierce pain shot violently into the calf of that leg, and my whole body tensed.
Mind-over-matter helped me soothe away the agony without moving my position, but it soon returned a second time. I’d just rid myself of it again when Esther’s call freed me from further difficulty. Time calls are quite soft here so, as she was working nearest to the caller, she kindly passed on the good news.
My opening pose had been standing, my second was seated, the third was reclining, and I closed out once more in a sitting position. After modelling at the Mall Galleries in duo poses with Esther last year, this was my first time solo here. I think it went pretty well, but I’m looking forward more to our March booking – another duo session.
Sunday evening poses at The Finborough Arms near Earl’s Court; it was the end of a tiring week. I had modelled every night from Monday to Friday, each time after a full day’s work, and enjoyed a long Saturday in Oxford accompanying my partner to a life model booking of her own. I needed this to be a comfortable session.
Too many times during the week, I’d been set endurance challenges that had put me through prolonged periods of physical pain; other situations had even felt emotionally draining. There was no need to punish myself further. This group of seven artists plus The Moon and Nude facilitator, Mandy, could go without the inspiration of suffering.
Three standard dynamic poses of 5-minutes, 3-minutes and 1-minute got the session under way. Three further poses of 10-minutes, 10-minutes and 15-minutes took us to an interval. I varied my shapes and styles and directions, but otherwise made sure all parts of me were either in balance or supported, with no pressure points or numbing.
We finished with two half-hour poses after the break. Again, comfort was my primary objective but with some interesting turns of the body and limbs. All went to plan and some good art was produced. The only downside was leaving at the end without my wristwatch… but I was reunited with it at the pub two days later. Happy ending.
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.
steve ritter 