After years of simply modelling at art classes, this year I decided to practice a little life drawing. It began almost by chance through attending Esther’s Girl in Suitcase performance at the Telegraph Hill Festival in March. Esther returned the compliment by drawing me at Telegraph Hill in April. I’ve subsequently drawn models at one of Adrian Dutton’s meet-ups, and more frequently with the East London Strippers Collective.
Since those innocent unsuspecting moments of spring, my relationship with Esther has changed significantly. When I next drew her in October, I was observing her with the adoring gaze of a love-struck partner. And just as in spring, Esther was drawing me again within a matter of days. In her own words here, she describes perfectly the frustration we models sometimes feel when endeavouring to capture the poses we so readily present for others…
Esther writes – thoughts from the day itself…
If I had a new year’s resolution this year, it was to go to life classes and draw, regularly. I utterly failed in that mission, succeeding finally in going just three times so far. Once to draw Steve in Telegraph Hill in April, once to pole dancing life drawing early in the Summer, and now again drawing (or attempting to) Steve, this time in Wanstead House.
I want to understand better what it is like to draw the model. I want to create drawings I am proud of. I think I succeeded least in that today, of the three times, partly due to tiredness. Recently Steve and I started dating, and last night I didn’t get so much sleep! While he got some zeds in, I was in fact catching up with blogging.
I am more naturally verbally inspired, and I find Steve a perfect muse for my words. He also has delicious bones and curves to draw, but my technique, sadly is not there yet. I immediately want to be expressive, ignoring many of the rules of measuring and perspective, to create something more striking. I want it to look appealing very quickly, and while I don’t care for accuracy, I want it to hold together cohesively as an image, with a style.
I muster a few lines, but I am feeling really frustrated today. It doesn’t seem to flow. The angle of his jaw is too awkward from my direction, and so far away from me. I have to tell myself it doesn’t matter. Just here to practise. But I am with my partner, and I want to do him justice – I want to be able to draw him unashamedly.
He begins with a very tricky pose, way ambitious for ten minutes, somehow resting on a knee and an ankle in some unlikely contortion.
The second pose he is standing tall, again I have a profile, and he has a forearm outstretched. I really just want to capture his face, and charcoal is not being my friend. Crude marks emerge, and I have renewed appreciation for the many artists who draw me each week. They make it look easy, though they do tend to practise regularly.
In a twenty minute seated pose I have his face towards me and grab the opportunity. Some simple advice from Patrick whose group it is, helps to make the nose within the scale I have set, and the mouth as wide as it ought.
In the break I embrace Steve, not so eager for him to see my work! The other artists fortunately have produced better, more complete images. I had felt cross with myself for not knowing how, but I know it’s all state of mind, and another time, in the zone, even without training, I am capable of appreciating my own style.
Finally a reclining pose, and I move to a different seat to see him from the front. This time my first attempt goes some way towards producing a sense of satisfaction in me, but Patrick spots a mistake. I have over-accentuated the dip in Steve’s waist, to create a more Schielesque line (which I think fits Steve so well). He corrects my drawing, rendering the rest of the figure out of proportion, enlarged in width, quite unlike my sleek, angular partner!
I am perturbed, quite out of my comfort zone, and for a while I try to alter the piece to Patrick’s new line, but, I am no longer feeling it. I turn over, trying to recapture my more expressive line, with just five minutes to go, but that too, as now I am thinking about it more, is not happening.
A fairly unsatisfactory result, but, I am very pleased that I went. Not only to appreciate Steve’s fine form from a different aspect, or to regard more highly the work of other artists, but also because, doing this I understand that I might follow my own intuition with drawing, more singularly in future. That’s not to say I don’t want to learn the ‘correct’ technique, but there is the right time for that, and a lazy, tired Sunday morning ain’t it.
Meanwhile, as Esther and I connected in spirit through our struggles with artistry and over-ambitious posing, the other artists in the room quietly got on with their drawings. Esther’s portrait was from my third pose; here I am in the work of another – pose one, two and four:
First and foremost in this world of life drawing, Esther and I are models. We are also art lovers, and we aspire to improve as artists. We both know we will have to commit more time if we are ever to create on paper such images as we see in our minds, but we’ll be sure to enjoy our efforts together while doing so.
A curious revolution of fortunes precipitated my involvement at this life art session. Back in June, I’d put it in my diary as merely a “provisional” booking – the group’s organiser, Lisa, felt artist numbers were dwindling and that she may need only one model in one room rather than the usual two working in adjoining rooms. With less than a fortnight to go, the status changed from “provisional” to “cancelled” – there would indeed be only one model, and it was not to be me…
A few days later I was nosing through the bookings diary of my partner, Esther, and saw she was due to model in Herne Hill on the evening of Wednesday 11 November. It seemed a staggering coincidence but, yes, Esther was the lone model who would be working on the date I had lost. We’d been itching to do more duo poses, however, so Esther contacted Lisa to ask if she would consider taking us both after all, and using us as a couple.
The response we got was much more than we’d bargained for. Following an accident involving a ladder, it seemed Lisa wasn’t feeling sufficiently mobile to run the session and had been intending to cancel it entirely. If, however, together we could not only model, but also set-up and facilitate the whole proceeding for SketchPad Drawing, she said we were welcome to work as a duo. We readily accepted the challenge.
Come the evening, upstairs at The Prince Regent pub we opened the door of Lisa’s storage cupboard and stood briefly in amazement. She’d warned us it was crammed tightly with art equipment, and sure enough we found an astonishing tangle of easels, lamps, boards, papers, boxes and bags that even a ferret might have struggled to get amongst. Nonetheless we’d been provided with a clear list of instructions so together we began the delicate procedure of unpacking.
We had been told to expect between 10 and 14 artists, so we fully prepared one of the two adjoined rooms and set-up a handful easels in the other, just as a precaution. The first artists began to arrive… and then came a few more, then even more, and… with dismay we realised there were so many that we would not be able to model together after all. We had no fewer than 23 artists in total – never before has success felt like such wretched luck, but Lisa would have been delighted.
With heavy hearts, Esther and I commenced our posing, out of sight from each other in separate rooms. Esther set the timer on her phone and called to me whenever its alarm sounded our signal to change pose. Regular artists had given us a steer as to the pose lengths they would prefer. We began with four 5-minute poses; then moved to two of 10-minutes; and followed with one of 20-minutes, taking us to the end of the first half.
During the interval we indulged in a brief hug. One or two artists enquired whether this was to be the long pose for the second half – ohhh, if only there weren’t so many of you! But alas, no. Instead we swapped rooms and saw out the evening each with a single pose of 40-minutes. Come the end, our efforts were appreciated by the artists, and in kind we appreciated their efforts at capturing our forms.
From the start I had been daunted by the prospect of somehow returning Lisa’s mass of equipment to the storage cupboard, in its original complex configuration. Before we had time to worry in earnest, however, the regulars had sprung into action and got the work done for us. I’m not wholly certain they’d replaced it exactly how we found it, but we were immensely thankful to them for their generosity.
Downstairs we relaxed quietly with glasses of wine before heading off into the night. It had been both tantalising and frustrating to be modelling so near and yet apart. Even so, we could be grateful to have been given the opportunity in the first place. We had already posed together for Art Macabre in Oxford, and at Esther’s Spirited Sound event on London’s south bank, so we had good reason to believe other opportunities would yet come. Our anticipation remained.
Spirited Bodies creates model-centred life drawing sessions with groups of people, many of whom have never previously modelled, helping them to connect with their bodies in a new way that improves body image and boosts confidence. Twenty-five months had passed since I last posed at a Spirited Bodies event. I had worked with Artistic Director, Esther, several times before but on this occasion I was a little more involved…
Part 1 – the fortnight before
Standing in an alcove on the upper floor of Bargehouse, I gently caressed a piece of wood around the rim of a small golden singing bowl. The soothing resonance of its song carried to all corners of the floor, finding the ears of Esther, Sarah Kent and Sarah’s partner, Mal. It was Sunday 25 October, two weeks before Esther and Sarah would be collaborating on Spirited Sound, and together we were checking out the space. First impressions were favourable.
Sarah is a sound bath practitioner, using gongs, bowls, sticks, chimes and other acoustic instruments to create healing vibrations for a positive therapeutic effect on those she immerses. After meeting in the summer, Sarah and Esther had agreed to work together – Sarah providing sound, Esther providing spirited bodies – hence, ‘Spirited Sound’. Bargehouse approached Esther about facilitating an event, and a date was agreed: Sunday 8 November.
The event would form part of the Southbank Festival of Creativity – Bargehouse being part of the Oxo Tower complex on the south bank of the River Thames. The festival would occupy much of Esther’s week as separately she was to host a women’s session there on Wednesday 4 November. Naturally there would be no place for me at that one, but an extract from the event programme nicely captures the ethic and empathy of Spirited Bodies:
A chance to free yourself and experience the liberation of shared nudity. We will let go of judging ourselves and each other, and honour ourselves with a compassionate gaze. Each person’s journey is unique, and participants have a chance to share their experience through talking afterwards which helps to debrief before going back into the world. Modelling is optional; you may come just to draw, and full nudity is not required for the modelling, it is up to individuals.
This is a women only event and all are welcome who define themselves as women. We want to create a space which welcomes all women’s body types, including those of trans women. It is not always possible to be so open, as different groups have different needs. It is however important that women who were not born in a female body have spaces to be together with other women, so we collectively embrace the complete variety that women are.
Part 2 – the day before
Some stress. It transpired that Spirited Sound was not intended to take place on the upper floor where we’d sound-checked, nor even in the small warm room used for the women’s session, but up in the building’s attic space. Esther visited again on the day before the event to check her materials and work out how much extra lighting and what cables for heaters she would need to buy. When she messaged me that afternoon she’d just finished sweeping the entire space and was feeling drained.
I headed on over. Hugs were appreciated; we shared them at length on a park bench overlooking the river. Having known and worked with Esther for more than three years, I had indeed become significantly more involved over the previous five weeks. We had become partners, but were still erring heavily on the side of self-restraint in public; we were not yet ‘out’ with all our mutual friends. We remained sensitive to the feelings of others and preferred to be discreet.
Part 3 – on the buses
Come the morning of the event, all Esther’s Spirited Bodies equipment was stowed in the Bargehouse attic awaiting set-up. Our remaining tasks were to buy food for the participants, get the electrics working for heat and light, and to help Sarah shift her multitude of instruments – some of them quite bulky – up four or five flights of stairs. We boarded a bus in Lewisham Way and jumped off again at Tesco on the Old Kent Road for a spot of shopping.
Our timing was near perfect. Their shutters were in the process of being raised slightly earlier than the usual 11am opening as a 2-minute silence for Remembrance Day was to be observed on the hour. We selected foodstuffs, patiently checked-out, stuffed our backpacks to near-bursting, and completed our journey to Bargehouse. Esther was welcomed on entering and assured that heaters in the attic had been switched on for us already. Things appeared to be going well.
Part 4 – in the attic
The optimism felt at ground level quickly crumbled at altitude. The shadowy eroded brickwork of the roof space might have made a superbly atmospheric setting for a photo shoot but, to me, seemed rather challenging for life art. Puddles of rainwater had leaked to the floor, limited natural light entered from just one narrow end of the long space, while its lone power socket was set far away at the other. Our heaters and lighting required end-to-end extension leads trailing from this single source.
On arrival we found the heaters alone had tripped out the switch in the fuse box. We managed to get them working again, but then adding the lights blew a fuse in the plug of our primary extension cable. Everything pointed to the certainty that this was never going to work. To their credit, the Bargehouse people also saw we either had to find a new space or Spirited Sound would have to be abandoned. After rapid negotiations, we were transferred to the room previously used for the women’s event. Perfect.
Part 5 – preparing the space
I set about laboriously shifting our gear down two flights of stairs its new home, whilst Esther greeted the first models who’d arrived early to help carry Sarah’s instruments upwards. Steadily our room filled with paraphernalia and people. Chairs lined the walls, up to a table beside the entrance. Sarah arranged her bowls and gongs in the small space that remained behind this table. Artists began drifting in and, despite a handful of very late cancellations, Esther had a good core of models.
Whilst Spirited Bodies has a focus on working with those new to modelling, there were also lots of familiar faces present. I would be one of six male models, and at various times had worked with all the others: Boyko, Clifford, Cy, Ian and Matt. We would have six women modelling too, but started with just three: Alessandra, Eileen and Lovise. Our friends Frances and Judit were among the artists, and it was great to have Tatiana Moressoni – of Camberwell Life Drawing – as official photographer.
© Tatiana Moressoni for Spirited Bodies
Part 6 – fire and air
At 1:30pm we were ready to start. Esther set the scene, explaining that over the next two hours we would present group poses representative of the elements fire, air, water and earth, all to the sounds of Sarah’s inspired accompaniment. We started with fire: 1-minute and 2-minutes of dynamic poses; a 3-minute movement pose in which we gradually opened up; a 4-minute pose having opened; 5-minutes moving again as gently flickering flames; and finally 10-minutes creating a scene from Hell.
© Tatiana Moressoni for Spirited Bodies
Next came air. Alessandra stepped out to draw, whilst in came Frances and Judit to pose. First, Esther had us all face in the same direction for 5-minutes and pose as if being blown by a strong gust of wind. Next we were light and floaty for 5-minutes, and felt inspired to make connections. The closing 15-minutes of air were intended to be a dance but, as we’d pre-empted that somewhat in the previous pose, we used this one to rest upon clouds and occupy Heaven.
© Tatiana Moressoni for Spirited Bodies
© Tatiana Moressoni for Spirited Bodies
Part 7 – water and earth
Our water and earth interpretations were each to be single 25-minute poses, albeit earth was cut slightly short as were running out of time. Up to this point, Esther and I reckoned we’d done a fairly respectful job of concealing our relationship – only Sarah ‘officially’ knew, and for various reasons we weren’t rushing to tell the world. For the water pose, however, Esther said we were all to lay or sit as if part of a flowing river, and that she would be joining the group…
© Tatiana Moressoni for Spirited Bodies
© Tatiana Moressoni for Spirited Bodies
I manoeuvred myself to one end of our river and lay down with open arms. After about a minute, Esther undressed and eased herself down gently into the curve of my body to complete a spooning embrace. It was a tender moment and seemed like a suitably subtle way to show the observant among our friends that there might be more to us. Afterwards, Esther, Frances and Judit stepped from the pose space and left the rest of us to be grounded as earth, closing what had been a wonderful session.
© Tatiana Moressoni for Spirited Bodies
Part 8 – at the end
While models morphed into elements and artists interpreted forms, Sarah had been creating magnificent soundscapes that complimented our moods and inventiveness. These varied from delicate soft washes to powerful reverberating thunder. My personal favourites were water sounds, for which she made use of the real thing within one of her bowls. A combination of beautiful rippling tones and the warming sensations of closeness while posing made this very special for me.
© Matt
Artists spread their artworks on the floor for us all to appreciate. Many had used their imaginations to great effect in capturing the energy of our spirited bodies in tune with spirited sound. By general consensus, this had been an excellent afternoon all round. After the earlier stresses of the weekend I was especially happy for Esther, and for Sarah too. Not everyone is privileged to see the numerous difficulties that must be overcome when staging events like this. Their success was richly deserved.
© Matt
Part 9 – into the night
We packed away the Spirited Bodies sheets, cushions, lights, heaters, cables and art materials into numerous bags and cases, then carried them down to the ground floor. Artists and models had slowly filtered away. Last to leave us were Alessandra and Cy, who’d both been exceptionally generous with their time and support throughout. We needed to order a cab to get everything back to Esther’s flat but first we strolled along the Thames to enjoy the evening air, and to wind-down after our busy day.
At a table outside the National Theatre, sheltered from lightly spitting rain, we relaxed with a little red wine while we awaited the arrival of Kam, the friendly cab driver who’d brought the stuff here originally. It’s gratifying to be able to offer practical support for group life art events like this, and sometimes participate too. Spirited Bodies is, and will always remain, wholly Esther’s project but it is very special to share in spreading its happiness.
Other Spirited Sound blog posts:
At a quarter to nine on Halloween morning I was a long way from home. A car pulled up on the quiet street between Saltwood Village Hall and the wooden bench upon which I was resting. The grass around my feet was damp, the air was still – cool but not cold. Louise and Nick stepped from their vehicle, greeted me warmly, and together we entered the hall.
The Secret Drawing Club
We were there to present ‘Binary Bodies‘, the first ever all-day event staged by The Secret Drawing Club. Louise and Nick had founded this life drawing group earlier in the year, sharing in its organisation; Louise is its model in residence, whilst husband Nick adds his artist’s perception to their detailed research and the creation of themes inspired by classical art.
I had worked with Louise several times before on photo shoots, such as Babylon and Belt Craft, but this was my first time life modelling with her. It was also the first time I’d had the pleasure of meeting Nick; we found a good rapport from the outset. Indeed they were both so well prepared for this event that there was little for me to contribute until the time came to pose.
The long way round
Such was the honour I felt at being given this booking that I considered it particularly important to be at my professional best throughout. Nonetheless, I was profoundly tired after an extraordinary preceding 36 hours that had taken me up and down the country for life modelling. It began on the Thursday with an evening of poses at The Beehive in Tottenham, from 7pm to 9pm.
Afterwards, I made a beeline for south London, to the flat of my partner, Esther, and the next day we travelled together to Oxford, where we modelled for Art Macabre as part of DeadFriday at the Ashmolean Museum. It was very near 2am on Saturday morning when finally we got back to Esther’s place. After barely 3 hours’ sleep I was on my way to St Pancras for the 07:08 train south to Sandling, changing at Ashford.
Morning sessions
Staying bright-eyed and alert would be the challenge. We were to model for 14 artists between 10am and 4pm, with two 15-minute breaks plus a full hour for lunch. The first hour was devoted to short dynamic poses, none longer than 10 minutes, all featuring some manner of interaction. We were nude, or wrapped in a sheet, or holding wooden tribal masks. In several tableaux we interpreted classical sculpture or painting.
Nick directed the poses, calling the pose lengths and time-checks, explaining artistic references and synchronising our music playlist. This phase required way too much physical effort for me not to be alert. After a break, we mimicked Rodin’s ‘The Kiss‘ and reclined in a pose akin to spooning, both 35-minutes. I am ashamed to confess that I nodded-off during the latter, and even indulged in a little light snoring. Oh dear.
Lunchtime
Lunch was a tonic for everybody. If one single word defines The Secret Drawing Club, it is “exquisite”; the delicacy of Louise’s modelling, the attention to detail in sourcing authentic props and – especially rare – the fine quality and quantity of food served to participants. Certainly I had never before seen such a magnificent spread set before artists and models alike.
Afternoon sessions
After lunch we returned to the centre of the hall for two half-hour seated poses. In the first of these we created a simple connection, like an embrace but both facing in the same direction. For the second we sat close to each other at right-angles – not with physical contact, but both ‘reading’ books. Without wearing my glasses, of course, I could hardly see the text, let alone read it.
Our final 75-minute pose was inspired by ‘Pietà‘ – Michelangelo’s stunningly beautiful sculpture in St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City. Given our respective physiques and the potential discomfort that could be inflicted over such a long time, we didn’t attempt an exact reproduction. Even so, I think we managed to look pretty elegant. The artists’ drawings reflected this superbly, as we admired when finished.
Looking back
Trains that could return me to London – to Esther – departed once every hour. When our session ended, Louise kindly rushed me to the station in time to catch the 16:21. Alas, it meant I wasn’t able to mingle with artists after the event, which was a shame as they were lovely people. It was also a pity to leave Louise and Nick so soon, but it had been a real privilege to be part of The Secret Drawing Club, if only for one day.
There have been model-run life drawing groups and workshops around London and the UK for many years. The Secret Drawing Club takes these to another level by showing what can be achieved with great care, attention to detail, not compromising on quality, and having a genuine appreciation of art. The group has proven incredibly popular with artists since its creation; I hope they continue going from success to success.
I’d turned down a last minute request to model for another group two days before as I was already booked for an evening at the Telegraph Hill Centre. For this particular Wednesday, 4 November, I’d had no fewer than three booking offers – a rare enough occurrence and slightly galling as I had nothing in the diary for Tuesday, Thursday or Friday. Such is the way the cookie crumbles.
First come, first served… was Adrian Dutton. We had agreed this date as long ago as 17 May. It would be my third and final appearance of 2015 at the Garrett Centre in Bethnal Green, in addition to modelling several times at his other venues. It’s always my pleasure to come back for these groups. As ever here, I started with a 10-minute standing pose that allowed time for latecomers to settle down.
This was followed by quick poses of 2-minutes, 1, 3 and 5-minutes. One never knows in advance what times Adrian will call for, so all poses are decided on the spur of the moment. Another 10-minutes followed, then 20-minutes, which should have ended the first half but a 5-minute pose was appended so Adrian had time to finish preparing hot food for our break.
During the interval, whilst chilling on the floor at the centre of my pose space, I had a nice chat with a chap named Raymond, who’d helped with the set-up. He had done a little life modelling himself here, and was keen to try more. I could tell he approached his work with the same purity of enthusiasm that I enjoy myself, so I shared whatever meagre practical advice I could.
After gulping down a mug of tea, I received hand signals from Adrian that indicated he would like me to begin the second half with another 10-minute pose. As I slid from my gown and got into position, a hush permeated the mingling artists and they hastened back to their drawing materials. I concluded the evening with poses of 15-minutes and 25-minutes. Time flew by.
The kind applause of artists was gratefully received at the end of the last pose. While I dressed, they set down upon the floor their favourite artworks from the session; while I took a few photos it seemed all hands made shift to help Adrian clear the room. It had been another good turn-out, another pleasant evening in Bethnal Green. Here’s hoping 2016 will bring more return visits.
Here was pleasure and poignancy…
The life drawing group run by Alexandra Unger at the Telegraph Hill Centre is among my favourite places to model. Alex herself is one of my very favourite artists, so it is always a joy to return here. A tinge of sadness, however, accompanied the knowledge that due to her impending sabbatical from these shores, it could be the last time for more than a year that Alex would be drawing me.
I will see no new works like this in 2016:
As my current modus operandi is about living in the now, I resolved to make the most of this evening. Numbers attending the group had increased following its switch from Thursday nights to Monday nights, yet still with just eight artists plus Alex it remained cosy and relaxed. We had music, warmth, tea and biscuits for the interval. Everything was well set.
We started with four poses of 2-minutes, then followed with two of 10-minutes and one of 20-minutes, up to our break. While sipping my brew and chatting with regular artist and friend, Frances, I learned the excellent news that she would be keeping the group going in Alex’s absence. There couldn’t be a better candidate with both a passion for art and an understanding of modelling, plus a practical mind for event organisation.
Afterwards I settled down on beanbags for a 45-minute side-lit pose, taking us to the end. I was very comfortable, drifting without danger of snoozing, until the last quarter of an hour when a dull pain made itself severely known in my right thigh. As always, one perseveres. The posture was well received, and well captured by the artists.
When I was able to stand and hobble around to admire these works, I was genuinely impressed by the overall high standard across the group. In time, however, everyone gravitated across to Alex’s interpretation. It was a stunning piece, one for which I felt privileged to have posed.
All that remained was to say: farewell, Alex, be happy and well abroad, we shall look forward to your return.
The hour had passed midnight. On the top deck of a night bus from Oxford, Esther and I shared warm white wine from a small plastic water bottle. It was a complex road spanning generations that had brought us together at this time. Now, as we looked forward into the unseeable blackness, we were in celebratory mood. Our first evening of life modelling together had been a triumph.
Part 1 – in which the scene is set
Oxford loomed ghostlike in our respective pasts. I’d gone up in 1987 as a naïve undergraduate studying physics; the first from my family and, indeed, school to attain the supposed privilege of an Oxbridge place. A combination of too much fun and too little intelligence, however, meant I came down again empty-handed just one year later. Even so, the impression formed by those days ensured I would jump at any likely excuse to return.
Esther, by contrast, was born to a family steeped in the Oxford tradition. Yet whilst she had abundant intelligence and the willing hand of destiny to guide her, she lacked the appetite to conform. Her spirited body and singular mind were starred for freer, wilder living; to shape her own unique life, unfettered by the chains of expectation. Nonetheless, the spectre of Oxford still resonated within her, most recently inspiring visits to ancestral colleges.
Two people – two life models – two dreamers with unfinished business amid the proverbial dreaming spires had, on this night, found fulfilment. Meanwhile on parallel tracks, a London-bound train was transporting the angel of darkness who had made this evening such a huge success, both for ourselves and hundreds of enthusiastic artists. Nikki, a.k.a. Raven Rouge of Art Macabre, had brought Death Drawing to the internationally renowned Ashmolean Museum.
© Ashmolean Museum
The opportunity had arisen from the latest in an occasional series of ‘LiveFriday‘ events staged by the museum. Every few months its doors are opened from 7pm to 10:30pm for theatrical performances, creative workshops and lashings of interactivity. Appropriately, the October event was re-branded ‘DeadFriday‘ since it immediately preceded Halloween and Day of the Dead weekend. And, of course, no such festivity could be complete without an Art Macabre salon.
Part 2 – which brings forth the models
Through autumn’s afternoon colours, Esther and I arrived at London Victoria a little after one o’clock. We armed ourselves with cappuccinos and snacks, then waited patiently for the 1:20pm coach departure to Oxford. Our journey was a joyful blend of reminiscence, anticipation and savouring the ‘now’. Some time after three, we stepped out at Gloucester Green coach station, barely a couple of minutes’ walk from the Ashmolean Museum.
Having first established where we needed to be that evening, and with a few free hours to kill, we went for a walk. As the city swelled with a heaving hubbub of tourists we sought refuge with a leisurely stroll through Christ Church Meadow, down to the college boathouses by the Thames. Ducks and squirrels, horned beasts of pasture, rowers and lovers; all were our companions as we sauntered along the tree-lined gravel pathway.
We lingered a while then backtracked, following the water’s edge as far as the Head of the River pub, before returning once more to college grounds and out into the throng. When life models meet it’s usually indoors, often in urban settings, so it was refreshing to share some clean air and wide open spaces for a change. In the city centre we ravenously devoured pasta and pizza at Bella Italia – building our strength for the work ahead.
A text message from Nikki told us she expected to be at the museum around 5:30pm, but that we were OK to relaaax until six. Hard to imagine we could have been any more relaaaxed. In due course we went to the museum’s front desk but were asked to check-in through their St Giles’ entrance instead. After a brief detour around the wrong building, we eventually found the right desk in the right building. Pink T-shirted people put ticks against our names on their printed lists. We were in.
Part 3 – in which preparations are made
It was no mean task to locate the basement Education Centre where we were due to model; directions from the Pink T-shirts had been vague at best. On arrival we had the place to ourselves so we settled down to wait in comfort together on a couch. It wasn’t long before Nikki joined us, having been delayed by some traumatic transfer from the train station. As always she was weighed down with umpteen bags of accessories for us to pose with.
Nikki described the five themes she wanted to incorporate into the evening, along with the props and body paints she intended to apply for each. We would be presenting: Death and the Maiden; Ancient Egypt; Kali; Hel; and Day of the Dead. Many a change of headgear, drapings and paints was anticipated. To begin with, however, I removed my shirt so Nikki could paint me a traditional skeleton face and neck. Esther, on the other hand, would start her maiden Art Macabre poses in pure unadorned nakedness.
Increasingly we were surrounded by other folk who would in some way be DeadFriday participants. Many were face-painted and clad in ghoulishly Gothic attire. Several were rehearsing scripts from the plays and performances they were to present. Lines from Keats seemed to be particularly recurrent. As the time neared 7pm they encroached more into our space, even to the extent of shifting around the chairs we’d carefully positioned for our artists. Nikki quickly nipped that in the bud.
With a minute or two remaining till our scheduled start, the actors and role players filtered away to wherever they needed to be; we never did see anything of their live work, nor indeed of the museum itself. Even Nikki had disappeared to apply her own macabre make-up, but not before describing to us the first pose she wanted: Esther was to recline opposite a seated skeleton on the couch while I loomed over her from behind. We had undressed and were now naked and alone.
Part 4 – wherein the life drawing commences
If two people pose naked and no-one is around to draw them, are they modelling? Esther and I contemplated this philosophical conundrum after a motionless minute in an otherwise empty room… then decided we could ease off. It wasn’t long before the doors opened, however, admitting our first visitors; two tastefully black-clad women entered. We hastily got back into character.
They acknowledged us amiably but confessed they had come simply to browse rather than draw. We gave them permission to take a photo of us, and they in turn agreed to forward it to Esther. Thus we had a souvenir of our début pose together. As they left, so Nikki returned, resplendent with a new deathly pallor, extensive scar-face make-up and a long red wig. Two new visitors joined us and became our first artists. Then two more followed, and then another two…
By the end of our first 10-minute Death and the Maiden pose, all the seats in the room had been taken. Fears that no-one would find us behind the closed door of an obscure basement room proved unfounded. For our next 10-minute pose, Nikki had us embracing in a dance of death. More people entered and were now standing or seated on the floor. It felt both intimate and exhilarating as visitors streamed in relentlessly to draw our combined nakedness.
© Art Macabre
Nikki was on top form: marshalling, educating and entertaining with clear, purposeful authority. She put us together in one more 10-minute pose before separating us for two 15-minute poses. The latter brought to a close our Death and the Maiden section. Artists left the room and we took a moment to savour the sublime hedonistic joy of sharing this work into which we throw our all, and which we each love so dearly.
© Art Macabre
Part 5 – in which new themes are introduced
Our next presentation was to be Ancient Egypt. Transformation would be subtle as Esther and I would still remain essentially nude. Nikki draped a dark material over my head and fastened upon it a golden mock-pharaonic crown. Esther, by contrast, was enshrouded in white gauze and given a gold skull mask to slide over her face. When the doors reopened we watched in gratified bemusement as scores more artists poured into the room.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
Our poses were shorter to begin with – 2 minutes, 5 minutes – and steadily increased in length, but neither this section nor any of those that followed would be as long as our opener. Esther and I connected gleefully; sometimes with dynamism, at other times tenderly. We were in the ‘zone’ and so were the artists – they approached every session with a party mood rather than the quiet discipline of a traditional life class.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
When we’d finished as Egyptians it was time to summon the goddess Kali. Our original plan had been to change our body paint at regular intervals – for example, Esther was to be painted blue at this point – but by now the event had become so fast-paced that we found ourselves confined solely to costume changes. Esther got an exotic headdress, a necklace of skulls and skirt of severed arms; I got a new dark crown and a pair of femurs to hold aloft.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
With Esther standing on the couch, me directly behind her and our arms crooked in alternating diagonals, we unified as the goddess of time, our hands slowly lifting and lowering mid-pose. After this I lay on the floor with my raised head resting back between Esther’s wide open legs. For this, our birthing scene, Kali the destroyer became creator. The room pulsated with artists. Such was the clamour that Nikki abandoned plans to conjure Hel of the underworld as our fourth theme, and instead decided on a reprise of Death and the Maiden.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
Part 6 – brings the triumph to completion
Our fifth and final theme was to be an old Art Macabre favourite: Day of the Dead. Nikki’s playlist for the evening began serenading us with Mexican classics. During our penultimate pose, as Esther and I stood back-to-back holding hands, a particularly infectious piece of festive music kicked-in and it became irresistible not to sway in time from side to side. The artists, who by now were in glorious glamorous disarray, laughed along with us and reflected the vibe.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
For the last pose, Nikki generously gave us a free hand to do whatever we liked. I sank to a carefree sprawl upon the couch while Esther lay across me with comfortably louche abandon. Lost to the world, we held each other until our time ran out. The work was done. Nikki asked the artists to show their appreciation for our efforts, and I reciprocated in summoning richly deserved applause for Nikki. Three and a half hours had flown by.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
The artists filtered out – one stopping to ask if we might be available for future work in Oxford – and once more just the three of us were left in the Education Centre. It was estimated that up to 350 people had passed through to draw us, with another 200 queuing but unable to get in. The chaos and debris around us bore testimony to what had occurred, and for a time we were content simply to bask in the atmosphere that had been created.
© Art Macabre
© Art Macabre
The mood was comically shattered when a security guard strode in and brusquely announced: “We’re closed, you’ve got to leave right now!” In a single moment we had a new high-water mark for the worst treatment by any institution. Astonished, Nikki pointed out: “But… they’re naked!” And faced with this irrefutable bare fact, the guard turned on his heels and left, but it’s sad to say that we got no thanks, no farewell, no acknowledgement of any kind from the museum when finally we quit into the night.
Part 7 – is not the end
Esther and I helped Nikki with her bags to the taxi rank in St Giles’. We hugged warmly and bid her a safe journey on the train back to London, then walked round a couple of corners to the coach station in search of our own conveyance to the capital. We’d missed the 11pm bus by five minutes, so with 25 minutes spare till the next one, we popped across the road to The Red Lion for a large refreshing glass of white wine each.
It took longer to get served than we had time left for drinking, so Esther emptied a water bottle and we poured our remaining wine into it as take-out – we are after all, nothing if not classy. A double-decker bus was waiting to return us south, so we ascended its stairs and occupied a long front seat. Maybe two or three other people joined us elsewhere on board but they were out of sight and out of mind. We were in a happy place.
In the afterglow of what Nikki later described as ‘gorgeous duo posing’, our minds were full of what we might do next. The possibilities seemed limitless, given time and opportunity. As we left the city that had lent colour to our pasts, we both revelled in the ‘now’ and looked together to the future, forward into that unseeable blackness. We were in celebratory mood. Our first evening of life modelling together had been both a triumph and – we hoped – a beginning.
Esther writes – thoughts from the day after…
Last night I posed with Steve, in front of an audience, a rolling queue of hellishly made up artists, eager to share the jollity and ambience of our cryptic ensemble.
Steve was a skeleton, again! With whited face and blacked out eyes, enormous teeth, and a few ribs. I was the maiden; nude, just myself, with flowers – reaching out to my deathly amour. I played with another skeleton, who was hanging out with considerable poise on our sofa. Then I danced with Steve, an elegant display of our combined collection of bones. He naturally tried to seduce me into his otherworldly clutches, and if I resisted at first, I soon forgot my reticence once his fingers lightly touched my skin, brushing me with the shadow of death!
I was attracted, tingling with anticipation for our next ghostly step, and immediately ready to roll with him. He wrapped himself around me, gracefully guided me, and even hid himself a while behind me, just lending arms for my Kali shift. For our next turn, I gave birth to him, his head emerging from my cunt as I squatted luxuriously, relieved to have this enormous baby now out of me!
In an Egyptian scene I skulled up too, in gold, with a shroud as well. Now we shared an ancient tomb, as we remained affectionate in death.
It is a privilege to feel so close to another model, and allows for more intimate poses, with authentic connection. I really can stare into his eyes continuously for quite some time, always held by his gaze. I feel held by him in many ways. Being able to share our life modelling passion opens up our world to a bigger picture we are still dreaming into existence.
steve ritter 