Of the various discomforts that might afflict a life model in late November, over-heating is rarely one of them. Nonetheless, it was a mild evening and before leaving the house I had dressed heavily for deep mid-winter. When I reached the heart of the city, I found myself being funnelled through crowd-control at Bank tube station, and then crammed aboard a claustrophobic carriage on the Northern line. Temperatures were rising.
On ascending the escalator at Angel, I craved the first waft of outside coolness. There was scant opportunity for savouring the night air, however, as soon I descended stairs to the basement life drawing room at Candid Arts Trust. Barely had I settled for a few minutes to chill when all too quickly it was time to pose. I slipped from my lightweight gown and stood naked upon a central raised platform.
Models’ needs are properly catered for here, with two ceiling-mounted electric heaters radiating warmth towards the pose space. Ordinarily these seem like a rare treat, but on this occasion I needed a breeze. Standing six feet four inches tall, it felt as though my head and upper body were being lightly roasted. After the first two 5-minute poses I sought lower altitudes for relief.
Learning from experience, I mixed and moderated poses so that gradually I could find a more balanced body temperature yet still enjoy working through a variety of stances for a crowded room of 23 artists. By the time I reclined on my back with head pointed towards the centre of the room I was comfortable in my own micro-climate. Even so, I contrived somehow to give myself a numb hand.
At the end, when fully composed, I checked out a few works and then retreated to the toilet sinks where – as is always necessary here – I scrubbed generations of charcoal dust from my feet. Upon re-emerging I found the room had been quit by everyone save for our facilitator, Luca. I signed his paperwork then returned to the dark streets, cosy and satisfied as I vanished into the autumnal ambience… job done.
“That’s never happened before,” said Catherine when the fire alarm started ringing at The Star by Hackney Downs. I was ten minutes into my first 15-minute pose after our break.
“I’m not going anywhere till someone tells us it’s real,” said one artist.
“They don’t usually have fire drills in pubs,” noted another.
“I’ll check it out,” Catherine offered.
“Steve’s not flinched,” came an observation.
“It doesn’t count,” I replied, “unless it’s Catherine’s phone.”
The timer alarm on Catherine’s phone was our sign that each pose had completed its allotted time; that alone was my cue to move. As we rightly imagined, the fire bell cut out without further ceremony after little more than a minute or two.
Notwithstanding such uncalled for diversions, this was one of my most enjoyable sets of poses in a long time. The group’s organiser, Catherine Hall, offered some direction on possible poses for me to try, but I was largely at liberty to exploit my long limbs to create interesting shapes according to each moment’s inspiration.
We commenced with poses of 5-minutes, 4, 3, 2-minutes, then went to six quick-fire poses – three of 1-minute, three of 30-seconds. Two poses of 10-minutes completed the first phase of our evening’s work. After the interval we finished with two 15-minute poses: the first after Rodin; the second in the style of Schiele.
The first half fairly sailed by. Rarely have I felt so at ease in presenting a succession of quite taut postures. The second half was more challenging, requiring both balance and tension, but nothing unmanageable for quarter of an hour at a time. The six artists and Catherine kindly gave of spontaneous applause at the end. I was a happy model.
As is traditional, art works were spread upon the floor for general appreciation. In my humble opinion, they combined to form the highest-standard complete body of work from all artists present that I’ve seen this year. I guess we must have all been feeling it. I next look forward to posing for Catherine at The Russet in December.
The Finborough Arms in Earl’s Court has become a third home for The Moon and Nude life drawing group. I’d posed for them many times at The Old Dairy in Crouch Hill, and The Sun in Clapham, but curiously my first visit to the new venue was not to pose but to see pictures of myself at their October exhibition in the Cellar.
In less than a month I was back as a life model, welcomed by Aless and her partner, Ollie. Just as at their other venues, the pose times were planned to be 5-minutes, 4, 3, 2, 1-minute, then 10, 15, 20-minutes to an interval and 45-minutes to the end. One of the regular artists suggested variety, however, so a couple of subtle changes were introduced.
We started 5, 3, 1, 5 – dynamic poses, twisted with limbs accentuated. I was naked on a raised spotlit platform equipped with a backless bench covered by pillows and a sheet. Scattered between tables around the Cellar, thirteen artists observed me from behind their drawing pads. I stood with arms raised for 10-minutes then took it easy, sitting cross-legged on the bench for quarter of an hour.
For the two longest poses of the evening I unintentionally put myself through a certain amount of pain. For 20 minutes I sat upon the platform with legs bent underneath me and body twisted backwards across the bench, straining my sides. After the break, I went 30-minutes seated on the bench with one knee raised – easy on the floor, but a back-aching balance on a narrow shelf of wood.
I finished with an uncomplicated 10-minute standing pose, hands upon hips. After the preceding two efforts, this one felt like a recovery position. When we ended at 8pm, I quickly dressed and admired the works by artists who weren’t too coy to share them. Having also modelled in Wanstead earlier that day I felt pretty shattered, but would happily return to pose at The Finborough Arms again.
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.
steve ritter 