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.
It takes more than sub-zero temperatures to deter the artists of Crouch Hill. More than 30 of them crammed into the function room at The Old Dairy pub for life drawing last Wednesday – certainly the most I had seen there. We started a few minutes late as it took so long to filter them all in.
The more the merrier, and indeed this is one of London’s merrier groups. There always seems to be a warmth about its vibe. Of greater importance, however, was the warmth emanating from two small heaters stationed next to the sheet I’d spread over pillows at the centre of the room.
We opened with the traditional 5-minutes, 4, 3, 2, 1-minute pose times, then followed with 10-minutes, 10 and 15-minutes to a short interval. I supped water and partook of chocolate biscuits while the artist hoards migrated to and from the bar in a hubbub of laughs and banter.
After the break I finished with 20-minutes reclining and 10-minutes standing. Same space, same heaters, but for some reason I failed to find the same warmth and thus shivered to a conclusion. It was no less an enjoyable evening for that. I’ll look forward to more work for The Moon and Nude next month at their other venues.
My first life modelling of 2016 saw me return to Bethnal Green for Adrian Dutton. It being a Thursday, this was particularly pleasing as Thursday are his cheese and wine evenings. Only four weeks had passed since I made my first appearance at just such an occasion; this rapid re-booking was to pair me with a new model making his début for Adrian.
Carlos had life modelled a couple of times before, but never for a group on the scale of this one at Eastbourne House. As we chatted before the start, more and more artists poured into the hall. Whilst not daunted, even I was a little surprised to see we would be posing for a crowd of 40 to 50 people. Carlos chuckled a little nervously but held his composure.
The two-model format presents possibilities for maximising the space with a model at each end, or to have both models in a duo pose at the centre of the room. With regard to the latter, I had said to Carlos we needn’t do anything he would not feel comfortable with, but he was admirably open-minded. We started in opposite corners, however, for the traditional 10-minute opener.
Four 2-minute poses followed, and we made the last of these our first duo pose. Two subsequent 5-minute poses were also as a duo: one with me seated on the floor and Carlos kneeling beside me, our hands upon or across one another; the other standing side by side facing opposite directions, arms around each other’s midriffs. 15-minute and 10-minute poses to us to the cheese and wine interlude.
After the break we recommenced with 10-minute, 2-minute, 1-minute and 30-second poses. The next 15-minutes saw our final duo pose, seated back-to-back on the floor. We finished as we’d begun, at opposite ends of the hall, closing the session with a 20-minute pose. Carlos had done well; he’d shown a professional attitude and been natural in his approach throughout.
Before heading home, I checked out the evening’s art that had been laid out around the floor. As on my previous Thursday visit, the most eye-catching works were large characterful studies of the upper body that seem to be one artist’s speciality. But it’s a pleasure to pose for the full range of abilities in such a large friendly group. Cheese and wine is icing on the cake.
Happy New Year! Esther and I stood among the crowds gathered at Hilly Fields Park in Brockley, clutching glasses of wine and watching wave after wave of fireworks surge in arcs from the distant London Eye. It was a simple start to what we hoped would be an extraordinary 12 months of modelling and performance. The next day we began our preparations…
Over the last three months of 2015 we had acquired a taste for life modelling together; we shared poses twice for Art Macabre, in Oxford and Birmingham, once for Mall Galleries, and twice for Esther’s own Spirited Bodies events – at Bargehouse and Tanner Street. To help keep this going through 2016, we decided to get a portfolio of duo-posing photos taken.
In truth we also wanted pictures simply to celebrate being together. Our photographer was the artist known as Lidia. She is best known for her work with film and video but, as a friend of Esther’s who’d worked with her on Girl in Suitcase at Dandifest 2015, she kindly offered to help. Esther identifies strongly with Lidia and was keen for me to see why. After large Riojas at The Eagle, we made our way to Lidia’s Hoxton flat.
Inside we were quite moved by all the trouble she had gone to on our behalf. An entire room had been given over to the shoot, with a huge black sheet draped along one wall and spilling across half the floor. A ladder stood in readiness for shots angled down to our reclining bodies. It was my first meeting with Lidia and I could not have been more warmed by her thoroughness, commitment, kindness and hospitality.
Before starting the shoot we chatted a while in the kitchen, with insights into Lidia’s current project concerning the horror of female genital mutilation (FGM). It would be wrong of me to explain too much about her works in progress, but the completed pieces I saw were so exquisite as to be both astonishing and ghastly. Her art, when finally realised, will be richly deserving of a large audience.
Returning to the process of our shoot, Esther and I stripped naked in Lidia’s bedroom then slippered back to where we would be photographed. We’d become accustomed to observing our bodies together and the shapes they make in close contact, but had practised nothing specific for this moment. Compact poses seemed to be the way to go, however, so we lowered ourselves to the floor.
I sat with one leg crooked flat and the other knee pointing upwards; Esther nestled in to my space, mirroring the upward knee and hooking her other leg back around me. I curled one hand around her breasts and placed the other arm across her belly. Before Lidia could take the first shot, I realised that by lowering my elbow just a little I could make the image social media-friendly. And so we began.
From this opening position we proceeded to lean and twist and fold and curve around each other. Limbs accommodated and supported, bodies pressed and caressed, but without ever crossing the divide into overtly sexual territory. Our objective was art, not obscenity, though it has become a matter of discussion whether the resulting images are inherently erotic, or even soft porn.
For each pose, Lidia captured us from two or three angles and was ultimately able to present us with a collection of 123 fine images. We were truly delighted. Back in our clothes, back in the kitchen, we settled down to salmon on toast with cheese, plus a few bottles of red wine. Lidia kept clicking away, trying to snatch close-up portraits of us looking natural. The results were mixed but the food was superb.
In time we were joined by Lidia’s partner, Ollie, and the laughs and banter continued to flow. We were sad eventually to leave but the fog of wine was intensifying – in me, anyway – and we had to depart back to south London, leaving our generous hosts in peace. The full set of photos were delivered to us just two days later, and the pick of them are now below.
Thank you, Lidia!
Esther and Steve
My year in life modelling – 2015 – ended as it had begun: posing in group tableaux for Art Macabre. The unique Death Drawing salon specialists have enjoyed their busiest year yet with an ever-increasing, diverse range of theatrical offerings. Correspondingly, I’ve been blessed with many opportunities to pose:
January – A New Year’s Eve Masquerade Ball : Conway Hall, London
January – Mediæval Monsters : The Book Club, London
February – Eros and Death : The Freud Museum, London
April – Odette Toilette Aroma Ritual : Andaz Hotel, London
April – Commedia dell’arte, April Fools and Clowns : The Book Club, London
April – 50 Shades of Pathology : Barts Pathology Museum, London
May – The Dying Art : Round Chapel, Hackney, London
May – Library Fest : Woodley Library, Woodley, Berkshire
May – Watercolour Revolutionaries : Kingston, London
July – Shuffle Festival : Tower Hamlets, London
August – Drawing from the Unconscious : The Freud Museum, London
October – DeadFriday : Ashmolean Museum, Oxford
November – This Mortal Coil : Vivid Projects, Birmingham
My last booking of the year, on 16 December, was as Sherlock Bones. I didn’t get an immediate invite to take the event’s title role, however. This was partly because I look nothing like Benedict Cumberbatch, partly because I’d perhaps been over-used, but mostly because there are so many perfect alternative candidates within our modelling community. In the end, however, it seemed I was last man standing and got the nod.
First to be cast was Jon, who I’d posed with at my very first Art Macabre event; he would make a superb Watson. Joining him as The Abominable Bride would be the glorious Molly Beth White, who I’d worked with in April’s Commedia dell’arte. Art Macabre supremo director, Nikki, aka Raven Rouge, was narrator; her partner Linsay, the Baker’s Boy; and I completed the ensemble in vintage Basil Rathbone style.
The event was originally scheduled to take place at Barts Pathology Museum, and had even sold out in record time but, for reasons still unknown to me, the museum pulled the plug with just three days to go. A new location had to be found and all the tickets put back on sale. By some pre-Christmas miracle, Nikki pulled it off, and transported Sherlock Bones to Satan’s Circus at the Wenlock and Essex pub.
The nature of the venue had changed substantially, and so had our artists – I peeked out and could see no-one I recognised. Art Macabre regulars were all absent; in their place it seemed we had attracted an audience of Sherlock Holmes fans. To put them at their ease I started my poses wearing a dressing gown, slippers and a deerstalker hat, plus briar pipe in hand – alas, no meerschaum.
For the first pose I was seated alone on a comfortable chair beside a table, gazing at a book as if lost in its words before bedtime. In the second pose I was still sitting but now having nodded forward, asleep, with the nightmarish vision of The Bride standing behind me, her hands gripping my shoulders. For now, we were playing our own mini period costume drama.
The next scene was Linz’s cameo appearance, turning up in street urchin style to tell Sherlock that foul deeds were afoot. She froze in a moment of animated gesticulation whilst I stood motionless before her; impassive but attentive. After this it was time for Watson to make a smart entrance in jacket and pants. Meanwhile I was now wearing just a top hat and roughly fashioned cape. Costume was rapidly decreasing.
In the last pose before our break, Sherlock and Watson ventured outside to scrutinise the evidence with their magnifying glasses – naturally having taken off all their clothes before doing so. Victorian respectability was maintained as I kept my top hat on, and Watson had donned his bowler. We hadn’t really focused our lenses on anything, but we stood together in great earnest.
Our two poses after the interval saw The Abominable Bride take centre stage. For the first, she was seated as if upon a throne in the depths of an overgrown cemetery. For random embellishment, Sherlock and Watson sat like bookends at the corners of the stage. Originally from this point Nikki had imagined further narrative complexities, but in practice we were left with time for only one more pose.
The final tableau saw The Bride standing, supporting a tower of three skulls with one arm while the other was raised and slightly outstretched, leading Sherlock Bones by the hand to some unspecified doom – whilst Watson grabbed one of his legs to haul him back. It was a 25-minute pose, and quite taxing for Molly, so a couple of times I let go of her hand so she could shake some life back into it.
We were all done. The Sherlock Holmes fans were generous with their applause and eager in setting out their artworks on stage for our admiration. After-show drinks and laughs were shared before the time to depart inevitably came. After a bumper year of Art Macabre work, I’m expecting leaner times in 2016 as they search for fresh blood; whatever the future brings, I’ll look back on fun nights like this with great affection.
steve ritter 