My first time life modelling for Art Macabre was as Egon the skeleton clown in their 2013 Circus of Skeletons. That day also happened to be my birthday, and in many ways each Art Macabre booking since then has felt like a cause for celebration. Last Saturday with them at The Book Club in Shoreditch I was a clown re-born.
Indeed, I was to be one of four clowns. Mary Beth Morossa would play the role of Pierrot, FiFi Croissant would be Colombina, and I would be Harlequin – all famed characters derived from the Commedia dell’arte. Our fourth clown was la magnifica direttore di arte macabra, Nikki aka Raven Rouge.
Pierrot © Mary Beth Morossa
Colombina © Art Macabre
Harlequin © Art Macabre
Raven Rouge © Art Macabre
There was to be lots of body and face painting so we all arrived early. Although this was their first time with Art Macabre, both FiFi and Mary Beth regularly adopt clown personas for other cabaret performances. They settled down and deftly transformed themselves with the most beautifully observed, complex visages.
For me the process was less exquisite but more thorough. Nikki began painting multi-coloured diamonds from my clavicles, down the front of my body to my knees and my elbows; then down my back to my ankles. I received a face-painted black mask and was topped-off with ruff, cuffs and hat.
All set, the artists were let in to collect drawing materials and gather into comfortable arcs around our little platform. Nikki stepped forward and first challenged everyone to take one minute to design their own macabre clown face. She then set the scene for the poses we would be presenting.
Foremost in our afternoon’s work would be the Commedia dell’arte’s seven primary emotions, considered universal across all cultures: joy, grief, fear, anger, surprise, love and laughter. First Nikki summoned Mary Beth’s Pierrot to begin with delicate interpretations of ‘grief’ and being ‘in love’ over two 2-minute poses.
While Mary Beth emoted, FiFi skipped and danced backstage. I wondered how she would manage to stay motionless for the artists. When her turn came, however, she faced them down firmly with fists on hips as ‘anger’ incarnate for 5 minutes. I would be next, emotions still to be declared.
First Nikki asked for five minutes of ‘surprise’ – but what kind of surprise? I decided against a joyful surprise, like bumping into a long-lost friend, as joy would come later. Instead I opted for a recoiling shocked surprise, as though an animal was jumping at me. It would make for a more dramatic, dynamic pose.
Next would be five minutes of ‘joy’. This time Nikki was looking for an open front-facing standing pose, so that’s what I presented: upright at the centre of the stage with arms outstretched as if trying to sweep up the whole room into a single joyous embrace.
When I’d finished spreading joy, we welcomed back FiFi and Mary Beth for our first group tableau. Harlequin, with little red ukulele, would be serenading Colombina while a jealous Pierrot sat unhappily alongside. FiFi and I would be gazing into each other’s eyes for 10 minutes…
Normally I would direct my stare slightly over the other model’s shoulder as some find prolonged eye contact a bit awkward. FiFi, however, is never off duty on stage. She winked, flickered her gaze, smiled… I responded in kind while gurning a big ugly grin throughout. We continued our mini expression performance through the whole pose.
At the end, Nikki spared Pierrot any further emotional torment and left Harlequin and Colombina to complete the first half of the session with a 15 minute duo pose. After a break for refreshment and costume tweaks, Pierrot returned for 20-minutes solo.
Mary Beth’s solo pose was the day’s big crowd-pleaser. Fast-forward to when we had finished and Nikki invited everyone to lay out their favourite drawings for all to admire, there were as many of this pose as there were of all our other poses put together – a reflection perhaps of its inspirational pathos, beauty and elegant simplicity
For the final 15 minutes the three Commedia dell’arte clowns were united once more. Nikki called for us to glare menacingly out at our audience. I sat cross-legged on a table, elbows on knees, staring fixedly over a pyramid of fingers. It was FiFi’s cold coquettish look askance, however, that captured most artists’ attention.
At close of play there was generous applause from all quarters. Art was shared with enthusiasm and received with warm admiration. Before disappearing to get changed and wash off our make-up, we all posed for a final few photos – permanent reminders of our impermanent body art.
© Art Macabre
Artists dispersed and we set to clearing away. It had been yet another successful Art Macabre Drawing Salon; the latest in a succession of highly popular, usually sold-out events. Nikki has created something wonderful, and she continues to overflow ideas, each one to be meticulously researched and refined on its way to becoming a rich, riotous reality. Such genius, such moments to treasure.
© Art Macabre
What lies concealed behind walls within walls? Peel back the unremarkable red brick façade of the Andaz Hotel in London’s Liverpool Street and you will find an elegant five-star residence with full modern leisure facilities for its guests. But there is more. This hotel has an unusual history.
Opened in 1884 as the Great Eastern, it was one of the city’s original railway hotels. After enjoying early popularity its glory faded until, almost a century after opening, designer Terence Conrad set to work. During restoration, his workers knocked down a wall and revealed a curious wood-panelled antechamber.
Upon pulling back the antechamber’s heavy ornate doors they discovered one of the most grandiose masonic temples in London. Hand-carved mahogany chairs, bronze candelabras, marble columns, marble floor and walls, blue and gold domed ceiling… in short, a treasure.
And if that wasn’t remarkable enough, it has now been discovered as a venue for the extraordinary aroma rituals of Odette Toilette – ‘purveyor of olfactory adventures’. Her sensual events are part lecture, part dramatic re-enactment, and offer exotic tastings and perfume-sampling to guests.
Re-enactment requires re-enactors, and that’s where I came in. A complex formative back-history intertwines Odette Toilette with Art Macabre, and this in turn has led to Art Macabre sourcing models for Odette Toilette. When they were short of one man, I was fortunate enough to get the call.
The cast assembled early to prepare for our 7pm start. Naïvely I imagined this was a new experience for all involved, but then slowly I realised in fact it was only me who hadn’t participated in a previous aroma ritual here. There would be six rituals in total this evening, of which I was to be the central figure in the first and third:
- HONEY MAN – Honey Jelly
- THE EGYPTIAN QUEEN – Flower-Infused Wine
- INCENSE AND SACRIFICE – Smoked Chocolate
- INTO THE UNDERWORLD – Pomegranate Sorbet
- ANCIENT GREEK MYSTERIES – Sweet Barley Arancini
- ANOINTING OIL – Orange Blossom Donut
My fellow performers were regular Art Macabre stars: Maya and Amy. In different circumstances we would be largely nude, save for body paint and wisps of costume. As this was a corporate event, however, Odette decided a modicum of modesty might be in order. Preparation centred on costume.
Maya is a virtuoso genius when it comes to any form of make-up or costume-based transformation. Similarly Amy knew exactly what was required for her roles. I, on the other hand, got a 10-minute walk through my two rituals and was then prepared for the first by Nikki, Art Macabre’s very own visionary magician, a.k.a. Raven Rouge.
First my face was painted gold, then golden honeycomb patterns were added to my torso, which was finally overlaid completely by sparkly bronze. I was dressed with a gold bandana and sparkling loincloth that from a distance looked like Kylie Minogue’s hot pants. I was ready.
The seats were full and Odette, in her magnificent red gown and wreathed hair, was already addressing her guests when Nikki led me to the temple doors. The sound of Odette’s gong was the signal for me to walk slowly, solemnly, yet willingly up to her sacrificial altar.
As Odette explained the mummification of mellified men, her handmaidens fed me a dozen or so spoonfuls of honey. The first was huge and oozed down my chin, but the portions then got steadily smaller. Once filled, I was led around and laid flat upon the altar, where I was smeared with more honey and duly regarded as sacrificed.
After motionless moments I was then permitted to be considered reanimated, and slowly made my exit from the temple. Well! That had been straightforward enough, and all rather enjoyable. While Maya and Amy continued with the Egyptian Queen ritual, Nikki prepared my next appearance.
I was to be Mesoamerican, once more for the chop on the sacrificial altar. Different headgear, different loincloth, additional wristbands and some black lines for face paint. No honey this time, but I was garlanded, handed a flute – which I played tunelessly in a single lap of the temple – and laid out flat again.
My eyes were closed. I could hear Odette talking about a knife, and then felt a thud on the centre of my chest. Mercifully nothing sharp; I believe I managed not to flinch. Once my “body parts” had been divided among the guests I was bidden to leave, and just made it out before my loincloth fell off completely.
That was me done but I waited while Maya and Amy went Greek, and finally Amy was anointed in the guise of King Charles II. It had been a grand tour of the senses and the imagination, which Odette had woven skilfully and coherently into a clever, interesting and pacey evening of entertainment.
Upon completion of the final ritual we were all invited to return and take an ovation. We seized the opportunity of our final costumed presence in the temple to snap some vanity photos. Our model professionalism fleetingly gave way to childish enjoyment of this extraordinary situation.
From being drafted in relatively late, and having no full rehearsal before diving straight in, I had no real sense of how competent I’d been – if at all – but Odette was warm in her thanks and seemed genuinely pleased with the night as a whole. The guests left with big smiles, which is the main thing.
As for me, I’d been bowled over by the entire event. The vision, the presentation, the attention to detail as waiters brought in tray after tray of fabulous delights, the setting and the theatre of it all; it struck me as utterly unique. It had been a genuine privilege to be involved.
An unseasonably sunny Sunday morning saw me return to pose Wanstead House. It was to be the first session in a new season of organiser Patrick’s Sunday life drawing classes, and only my second visit to the venue at a weekend. The warmth of the day was welcome as it took a while for him to find someone who could unlock the door.
We were joined by seven artists: one first-timer plus a few familiar faces, including one or two from the Wednesday evening group. Midweek classes are on the top floor but, with the building largely to ourselves, we were able to take advantage of a first-floor room that was flooded with natural light.
The session called for four poses: three in the first half and one in the second. I began with 10 minutes standing, elbows up, and hands tucked into a curl between my ears and shoulders. It’s a relatively new pose for me that I’ve presented at a few recent groups. It was followed by 10 minutes in a kneel, as if about to start a sprint.
A simple 40-minute pose sitting on the floor took us to our break. I was feeling utterly at peace with the world yet the artists captured my face in something of a scowl. The hardest posture to hold for any long period is a smiling face. It would be nice, however, if my resting face could settle into a slightly more cheery expression.
The length of pose after the break is always dependent on how much time we have left after the artists take tea. On this occasion it was nearer a half-hour than 45 minutes. I sat again, this time on a chair with my body turned right and face to the left. When we were done I was free to venture back out into the sunshine.
My bonus on leaving was the nicest words a model can hope to hear at the end of a session, from artist to tutor: “can we have him again, please?“
A quick recap of the plot so far…
I took part in my first handful of art nude and naked protest events between 2009 and 2011. I’d heard about most of these by pure chance after signing-up to the Spencer Tunick Experience forum. Then, in February 2012 came a defining moment: I was invited into the Mud Circles of Adam James.
Among the 14 other Mudhead glitterati that day were artist Alexandra Unger – who astounded me with details of her performances and creativity – and life model Clifford. It was my conversation with Clifford on that Bermondsey rooftop, while gazing across the infinite horizon of London’s skyline, that set me on my own path as a life model.
Jump to July that year. My life modelling was still in its infancy when I was invited to pose with a dozen or so others in Mortlake at a Spirited Bodies event, organised by Esther Bunting and Lucy Saunders. Looking back now I marvel at my good fortune in meeting such wonderful, talented, unique people at what was such a formative time.
I was honoured to be welcomed back into other Spirited Bodies projects, culminating with the triumphant Human Orchestration – Clifford also being involved – in October 2013. I’d even shared a naked bike ride with Esther that very summer. London was proving to be a tiny community of friends and familiar faces in the nude arts world.
Fast forward one year. A new Thursday night life drawing group had started at the Telegraph Hill Centre, south London on 18 September 2014. Clifford was among the first models booked; my début came soon after, on 2 October. The group was run by none other than Alexandra. I returned in November, and again this year in January.
The threads of life continued to twist and intertwine.
My next visit to Telegraph Hill was three weeks ago to see Esther and friends perform Girl in Suitcase. As I recounted shortly after, during that magnificent tour de force Esther confronted the life drawers in her audience with the challenge: “it’s time for the models to draw the artists.” At first only one woman rose to the occasion: Frances, a regular artist at, yes, Alex’s Thursday night group.
The present day…
And so, having drawn Esther during Girl in Suitcase, she returned the compliment by drawing me last Thursday at the Telegraph Hill Centre. We were first to arrive and be greeted cheerfully by Alex. While we chatted together about projects and plans, next through the door was Frances – who I had posed with so recently at Girl in Suitcase.
It was a lovely gathering of creatives, augmented further by the arrival of other regulars at this particularly talented group. I found myself feeling a momentary sense of extra responsibility… but among friends this soon passed and I set to doing my thing as I would for any group. We started with dynamic and mid-length poses in the first half.
Over tea and biscuits we talked more about shared experiences, and the perils and pitfalls of running life drawing groups. For the second half I made myself twisted yet comfortable for one long pose on a beanbag. Alex set a strong angled lamp to cast dramatic shadows, and the artists set to making art as a blues soundtrack rumbled.
I love my modelling work and the outlet for direct creative self-expression it gives me. As much as that, however, I love the superb people I’ve met along the way; brilliantly imaginative, strong-willed yet sensitive human beings; people I’m humbled to be able to consider friends, who have enriched my life beyond dreams.
It was curious to be the one observed holding stage on this occasion. I hope it won’t be too long till the stars in the room are back upon a stage of their own, challenging sensibilities, provoking fresh ideas and sensations, illuminating their audiences with light and wonder – audiences I can’t wait to join.
My first time back at Bethnal Green’s Garrett Centre in 2015 was also my first time this year working solo for Adrian Dutton. In my last two bookings with him I’d been paired with another model, either as a dynamic duo or to share my experience. On Wednesday evening I had 30 artists all to myself.
It can be daunting, knowing there are so many lines of sight to be considered and so many angles from which artists would be hoping for, ideally, the best view, but at the very least a good deal of variety throughout.
The format of Adrian’s groups helps in this regard as he mixes short and long poses both before and after the half-time break. I began with a customary 10-minute standing pose while latecomers arrived, then quickfire: 45 seconds, 2 minutes, 30 seconds.
Taking us to the interval were poses of 5 and 10 minutes, followed by an open-ended seating pose that probably lasted 25 minutes or half an hour. When told “Thank you, Steve”, I made haste to the kettle for quick mug of tea.
Artists partook of their own refreshments at length and leisure, but I was back in pose after a quarter of an hour for those most keen to draw. After 20 minutes seated we got dynamic again: 30 seconds, 1 minute, 15 seconds(!), 3 minutes.
To see out the evening I posed 15 minutes lying down – albeit rather contorted – and 30 minutes standing with hands on hips. Artists and Adrian made their appreciation known at the end, which was appreciated from such a large established group with high standards and expectations.
As always, a lot of first-rate art was produced. Good session.
Easter weekend was petering out. The spare room had been given two coats of paint, the garden got its aggressive pruning, I’d even published a couple of these blog posts, but there had been no life modelling in eight days. I felt dull.
Then, at midday on Easter Monday, out of the blue, an emergency call-out appeared. A fellow life model was looking for someone willing and able to cover his booking that same evening. I was game. Facebook messages, texts and a phone call all followed; by late afternoon everything was arranged.
Seven hours after the first call-out, I walked through the doorway at The Plough and Harrow pub in the High Road, Leytonstone. I was a half-hour early – always early for first-time bookings – but found the venue already set-up. Jenny, the group’s organiser, was sitting on a table edge, chatting with the first artist to arrive.
Warm smiles and handshakes were exchanged. They’d been speculating how I might look but didn’t give away whether they’d guessed right, or indeed were quietly content or disappointed. Arrangements were straightforward: we had Classic FM on the radio, materials for the artists, two heaters for me, and tea and biscuits for all. Splendid.
The only worry was that no-one would pitch up on a bank holiday. The group has had 26 artists attending at its busiest yet on this occasion we were relieved to get eight. I would be posing at the centre of a small circle of chairs in what was actually rather a big room. On the floor was a yoga mat covered with a red velvet sheet garnished with a small cushion.
Jenny asked me to provide four poses: two short poses of 5 and 10 minutes, followed by 45 minutes up to a break, and then a further 45 minutes after the break – although in practice this would be 40 minutes as our partaking of tea and biscuits overran.
I began with standing poses: first with both elbows high and hands curled down to my shoulders, tight beneath my ears; second with right hand on my belly and my left arm extended sideways. For the first of the longer poses I sat on the floor, left leg crooked flat and with both hands around my vertical right shin.
After the break I had a go at finding a semi-reclining position that would be suitable for all artist vantage points, but failed, and instead sat cross-legged with hands on knees. There were a few murmurs of surprise and doubt that I would hold this for a long pose, but I knew it would be relatively comfortable for my peculiar build.
We finished at 9:30pm. With everything packed away almost in the time it took me to get dressed, five of us then repaired to the adjacent bar for drinks and banter. It was a friendly group and I appreciated being made to feel so welcome.
Jenny books models way in advance so I know not to hold my breath while waiting for a return. Even so, without wishing another emergency on anyone, I hope this won’t be my first and only visit to Life Drawing at Leytonstone.
This would be my final session modelling for the students at Albemarle College before their final portfolios had to be submitted. As such, the focus was wholly upon meeting the specific needs of individuals. Two students asked to submit portrait work, so what was planned as a life session instead became a portrait session for those two only.
This last-minute change of intention was of no concern. For me, the wants and needs of the artists at any group or class are paramount. I appreciate a basic level of human respect and consideration for my comfort, but ultimately I’m there to provide a service. I will always adapt for the benefit of those paying to create art.
We kicked-off with 20-minute warm-up drawings. The photos below were taken from a peculiar angle and don’t really do justice to their work. These images were strong.
Afterwards we switched to using colour. This took us to our break. The students were capturing my likeness, but also weaving in their own idiosyncratic stylings. I liked the blending of the skin tones in the preparation below.
For the second half of the session we were down to a lone student who was capturing just half of my face and replacing the other half with… well, I shall say no more out of respect for his concept and portfolio. He has a good eye and skill in his technique, so I hope the final work – which, alas, I’ll probably never see – does justice to his talent.
Best wishes, students of Albemarle, both for your portfolios and for positive futures.
steve ritter 