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.
Only upon arriving at The Star by Hackney Downs was I told that this evening’s life drawing was an anniversary event: it was one year since the group was founded. Well, actually it may have been one year and one week, but this was the first session since the true date that co-founders Catherine Hall and Carla Nizzola were both available to celebrate.
This was my sixth time modelling here, and the busiest I’d seen it. Usually there are around half-a-dozen people drawing, plus Catherine and Carla – all good artists – but tonight there were fully eleven present with the two organisers. To accommodate the extra people, I was meant to be posing in the round rather than facing a semi-circle, but in practice it was something in between; artists settled into a three-quarter circle.
I was to be modelling upon a high stool, a mid-height chair and a low stool, switching positions on one or more of these throughout. The pose sequence was: 5-minutes, 4, 3, 2-minutes, then three of 1-minute, three of 30-seconds, and two of 10-minutes that brought us to an interval. After our break for refreshments, we resumed with poses of 15-minutes and 10-minutes.
As is the tradition, works were set out upon the floor at the end for general admiration. Everyone seemed pleased with the evening’s efforts, and I joined most of the artists in staying afterwards for a swift drink. Having posed here just three weeks before, I didn’t expect to be invited back so soon, but it’s always enjoyable modelling for a group that appreciates a particular style of dynamic pose. I’m happy to oblige.
Life model bookings continue luring me to ever-more exotic corners of London. On this occasion it was Penge, deep in the capital’s south-eastern hinterlands, accessible via the London Overground branch – or should that be ‘root’? – to West Croydon. Not that I managed to explore any of Penge; I was to model at Bridge House, less a minute’s walk from Penge West station.
The territory may have been new but the group organiser was reassuringly familiar. I’d posed many times for Tatiana Moressoni at The Cambria and The Pigeonhole, both in Camberwell, but this was my first time at her new venue for Anerley and Penge Life Drawing. I was to pose within a lower-floor area of this multi-tiered, many-room’d pub, in the company of 10 artists.
As soon as Tatiana had partitioned us from the rest of civilisation by taping large white sheets across the entrance to our room, we were set to begin. The whole session was to be a sequence of short dynamic poses, which suited me down to the ground: three 2-minute poses, four 5-minute poses, three 10-minute poses up to a break, and finally three 15-minute poses to a finish.
It was another session where instead of applause at the end, I had the joy of individual artists approaching me to offer kind words of thanks. One said he wished only that the poses could have been longer. Well, alas, it is the nature of dynamic work that poses are more interesting, but equally more difficult to extend. Nonetheless, I would happily settle down longer for this group, plus Tatiana who created the fine works below.
Just four poses for me today: 15-minutes, 15-minutes and 30-minutes up to a break, then 35-minutes to the end of the session. As with my previous Sunday morning booking at Wanstead House, Esther came along to draw me – always very much appreciated – taking the total number of artists present to nine. It was a good crowd for this space.
On the mistaken assumption that the first pose would be five or ten minutes long, I’d resolved to attempt my own version of Esther’s trademark poses on one leg. It was a cheat, however, because the artists sit in a semi-circle and I could lean back onto a wall, whereas Esther can balance unsupported in the middle of a room. I was grateful to be propped up when I found it would be for quarter of an hour.
After that opening pose I decided to keep it simple. The next 15-minutes was spent in a semi-reclining position with my upper body raised and resting upon my left forearm. Our group organiser, Patrick, then suggested that I be seated upon a draped chair for the half-hour pose. I decided to ride side-saddle as it would vary the directions that I’d faced each time.
The final pose length is determined by the amount of time spent chatting and drinking tea during the interval. It’s a friendly group, so on this occasion only 35-minutes was left for art. I whiled it away in a signature pose, seated upright on the floor with one of my knees raised and supported in the crook of an elbow. Straightforward work for very nice people. I’ll be back here for a Wednesday evening next month.
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.
steve ritter 