Life Modelling 3 and a bit

I took part in another Spirited Bodies day, somewhat similar to those previously reported, and then again, nothing like.  This one was in collaboration with London Drawing and was entitled A Human Orchestration.

Part 0  : arrive, greetings, briefings, rehearsals. Getting used to the space, a classical revival church in what is now called Waterloo, i.e. over the road from the big station. 

Part 1 :  artists sit on chairs and on the floor.  The London Drawing crowd are quite out there drawing wise (do chck out all their amazing flickr sets), so already there are odd things being done with coloured paper.  There are 50 ish artists of all ages, plus 20 or so of us amateur models pretending to be artists also. We dispersed amongst them, which is a strange sensation. some eye contact goes on, but poker faces are on. Various welcomings and briefings take place, and instead of models entering and drawing starting, the verbiage dwindles to nothingness. Waiting. Sharpening of pencils. Fidgeting. 

I ask the London drawing person next to me what the hashtag was.  She mis-hears, and I get Hashtags 101, albeit from someone who didn't use twitter. (It's #ahumanorchestration, by the way.)

As arranged, Esther, the agent provocateuse of Spirited Bodies, grins and pads around (I'm pretty sure she has at least one cat in her ancestry), and whispers to someone. Who disrobes. And stands.

Ah, ok, him!  Artists swivel to him, draw, scribble etc.  

Esther has now made another secret signal, and again an artist becomes a model in situ. Oh, her as well!  Draw draw draw. (I actually get a proper 10 minute drawing done at this stage). Each model gets a two minute head start on the next. Another whisper, oh my turn now. Clothes off. Stand up. Hands on hips. 

This goes on until all the models are revealed.  After about and hour of such simple standing and sitting poses, the process is reversed. One by one each model dresses and returns to normality. 

It seems to me as if this community of artists are more exploratory than those I normally see (especially in my own work).   Marks are made with more things, and on more things than simple graphite, ink, paper. Shapes are looser and less representative. There are tearings and cuttings!

Part 2: I'll try and be brief, but it's complicated. 

We stand in a line in the middle of the hall, regarding the gallery. Christine, also nude, utters a powerful singing sound which penetrates the air and reverberates. Their choir now answers, less pure but with a greater number of voices.  Christine attempts a different sound, not singing. We emulate it, falling over the syllables. There are noises given, considered, and replied. I think of these sounds, with the Doppler shifts. Are these aircraft overhead? Is the city under attack?  We survive by fending off with our voices again and again. Christine tries to emit something like an explosion BOM! which is then defended. The sounds become lyrical again. the singer descends the stairs, and joins the line, which coils inward in a procession into itself. Now we are a circular unit of two ranks. Ursula stands at the centre and leads the singing, formed of utterances, murmurs gasps and hums, ocasional pats and slaps on the body. It's not call/response now but a river of sound. Sometimes there are wordlets or runs of words that float along. Mostly not, just abstractions. A baaaaa badda laaaa dum DMUMMMM very nice DAY! To be dadda Nice Body! Ahhh ummmm! We have no idea how, but somehow by listening and using something in our mouths and brains, a texture emerges. Not coherent or meaningful exactly but spiritually extremely human. From the middle of the group, down here on the carpet, it sounds fantastic. Out in the body of the hall, in the air of the high ceiling, it must sound even better. 

Visually laid out, this might look like papier mâché, overlaid with a variety of doodles and half-recognisable shapes, jumbled and scrunched.  But somehow looking warm and almost natural. 

We just stand still for a while (poor artists having to work with that racket!) and then round off the piece with another 10 minute stanza of randomwork.  And then exit, exultant. 

Having re-robed, we can listen in to the artists' discourse. They are obviously warming up and responding to the performance. The leaders of the group attempt to draw some meaning together from the 200 or so small works now on the floor, but it obvious that another unconscious communication is taking place amongst the artists as well as it was in the choir. Most of the works have a unity in themselves and some echoes of each other, and people have been using marks and colours to show the sound images as well as the figures.

Part 3:

Finally, something more like a standard SB production.  We are gatherered in a group on a stage at various levels, making a rough pyramidal arrangement of 20 (or 22?). The tableau exists for a hour, though we models may adjust ad lib. Music in 18 parts throbs in the background (You know, by Steve Reich, it goes dib-dib-dib-dib-dib for 96 bars then -dob-dob-dob-dob-shimmer-shimmer-dob-dob-dob- ... Ideal art production music if you ask me).  I intently gaze at the light fitting opposite, trying to stop my foot from going to sleep. Artists scribble, measure, cut, scribble and sweep their arms around as if making bold marks. I count the bars dob dob dob dob while ignoring the painful foot.  Artists glance, look down, glance, look down, scribble, up, think, scribble. dib dib dib dib. Foot goes numb num num num and finally must be moved.

I've tried drawing multiple figures (chiefly in SB workshops) and it's really hard. It's fascinating to see people work out the same process, and I can see some confident work developing. Here an artist has made a life sized outline of his own body, and is now filling it with drawings of each of the figures on display; he darts about making drawings from vantage points all around.  Here a man works on a wide work made of variegated panels, carefully but boldly measuring each person's frame. Here a cutout portion is aimed and positioned and glued, and another cutout grouping brought alongside to support it. 

And finally we end. Applause! A bow! More applause!! Final exit, accompanied by applause!

The work now is amazing, really together and bold.  The floor is literally covered with work, and almost every other piece is a corker. I hope the LD do their usual flickr upload soon so that you can see it. These are mostly not academic figure studies but more chewy enjoyable figurescapes.   Most of the models are fascinated. Those few modelling for the very first time are probably thinking oh my god there's me, my big chest, awful stomach, etc. Hopefully also thinking that might be me, or not, but we don't look too bad.  Today, I'm more interested in the general appearance of things and spend hardly more than a second checking myself out in chalk or ink.

There's a final repeat of the lightweight crit/seminar thing and then dispersal.  Some of the models yearn for alcohol to add to the natural highs of the event. I think a few escape though ... Note to self, check out location of decent pub in advance, and chalk it up somewhere obvious. 

Most of us are amazed at the outcome.  There were at least a couple of first time models in the group. I hope they don't think life drawing always goes off like that!

Life Modelling 2

More about the Spirited Bodies group life modelling project, as mentioned previously on Repulsive Monnkey.

To SB's Christmas event in Mortlake, London. A day out doing art, but not drawing. On the train there, I sneakily sketched two ladies on the train. A thought crossed my mind - are these two going to what I'm going to? I'm not a subscriber to theories of type, but, well, they looked the type. They also had the spare bags containing what could have been bathrobes, just like my spare bag. And there was something arty about them ... Maybe not as they turned left out of the station where I went right.

Arrived mega early (a dilapidated church hall) and helped Esther shift chairs and make signs. Then brought in the mulled wine apparatus from Lucy's car. More people arrived in dribs and drabs, some artists, but mostly other people modelling. 

A couple I knew from the workshop in November, including Richard Moon, who is a regular model. Really keen on life modelling he say, and busy with it, especially for the older gent. Artists love us, he says, we are so much more interesting to look at than the 20-year olds. As we were talking, and setting up easels, in walk the two from the train! Aha you! Aha you back! Turned out they'd popped to the pub. 

When enough of us had gathered (~12 models), Esther took us through the posing plan. After a few quickies, we were to do Dance, followed by Raft of the Medusa, then the Last Supper, then whatever comes to mind. Esther positioned us like mannequins in rough alignment (printout in hand), talked through the logic of the poses and scattered sheets and cushions. We giggled and ummed and ahhed and wondered where our hands, feet, etc were going to land with respect to other models' faces, chests, legs etc.  We were advised about sightlines, holding of poses, taking rests and such. Rehearsals done,  bouncy Richard led us through a bit of a warmup. Note to self: get a lightweight yukata or something, as my fluffy bathrobe is too warm for warmups.

By this time, there were loads of artists getting set up (40 altogether), and we were nearing the kick-off time, or should that be strip-off time.

I've read other accounts of first-time modelling nerves (or naturist beach going nerves, equivalently), and of the dreaded first five minutes. There's an account of this emotion in this (deep breath) Daily Mail piece written by the journalist Lydia Slater who "braved" a previous SB event. 

Not with me so much!  First 50 milli-seconds more like. After that I'm basically doing the work.  I know full well that the artists are just getting on with their jobs, and the pro models (of which one of my morning sketch targets was one) are doing theirs so I'm mainly thinking about whether the quick poses have anything to draw in them. As advised, I keep going around the clock face so that the artists get a change of scene. We run through our little repertoire of 1, 2, 3, 4 minute poses. Some of the younger people throw some wild shapes. I basically stand or stretch, and knowing full well that my bum looks big in this, try and shape my tum (abs, what are abs?) without appearing to be bothered by the process.

The models are 6 guys, with Richard, 67 at one end of the demographic and I guess Rui (another regular life model) at the other (25?).  Me, along with two other 40's blokes, in the middle. Womankind is represented by a clutch of students of various ages and dimensions but all basically young, a yoga teacher in her 20's (incredibly lithe/slim, probably an elf actually), and my two friends from the 11:54 from Clapham Junction, who are 50-something and maybe more.

For the first dance-based pose, Julie (of the train) and I pose together.  Julie life models fairly frequently (as well as keeping beautifully fit). She's quite sceptical, in a warm advisory way, of me holding my hand up for the entire pose (1 hour).  She's got a neat trick of resting her elbow on her hip.  Sure enough, my arm gets fairly tired, but it's manageable.  Here's the tai chi bit : I make sure there's plenty of peng jin, and that my back is full and the arm shape rounded.  I don't see what the others are doing, though a ballet bar comes in handy for some.  The artists all scratch and scribble, and Miles Davis poops away quietly in the background.  Lucy and Esther (the gaffers) wander around beaming at us and admiring the developing artwork.

Here's one of Julie, I'm the pile of twigs in the background, asking her if she'd like to do a twirl.

Then we regroup and form the dreaded Raft of the Medusa. There is no Hope! We're all going to Die!  I've elected to play the part of Man-who-encourages-the-damned-to-take-heart-for-there-is-a-distant-sail. Again, a foolish arm-in-air pose.  Others flop and lie around. The lucky ones sit or prop on the footstool, and bold Richard "waves" (in reality he gets the pole to rest a hand on).  This is very challenging, but a unique way to spend an hour.  

I can imagine the conversations:  So what did you do when you were in London my dear?  Well father, I and another dozen people, mostly strangers, went to a church, but not to pray, but we all took off our clothes and piled together in the middle of the room at odd angles on a heap of old cushions.  Another group of people paid money to watch, and to record the scene. 

The tableau is clearly appreciated by the artists, and we models took pride in the posing. Esther is delighted and takes a few photos (these have not been cleared yet, so you'll have to imagine them). As predicted, my flying arm gets upset.  The first 20 minutes were bad, maybe it's the ambient music, but no, my arm complains about being still, and bearing its own weight. The second twenty minutes was a battle of will between my and my nervous system. The ambient music doesn't go anywhere. Then it started to hurt.  Aggh!  Wobble!!  The prone models didn't seem much happier, and at least I had space to move and re-adjust, so maybe my pose wasn't so foolish.

The break was very festive, and a chance to catch up on the artwork, mulled wine and stollen.  Re-robed for the walk-around (seems to be the etiquette) I met someone I knew from ULU drawing (which I hadn't been to lately, so we chatted about that).  It's plausible that this (dark pink paper) is her drawing, I'll have to check.

Next one-hour pose was the Last Supper.  Heavily modified to work in 360 degrees, as well as taking some liberties with, say, the gender of our Saviour.  This was much more fun, as Esther brought the mulled wine around and placed in the model's hands.  Excellent!

That's me on the end, before the wine cup got drawn in.  The full frontal, next, of the table shows more or less how this tableau related to the famous picture.

And finally we rounded off with a half-hour anything you want pose.  By this time all the models were very friendly.  Well, imagine a bunch of 12 mates had piled in for a sleepover in the front room, but sans pajamas.  You would be fairly friendly wouldn't you?

I mentioned all of this to one of my students at work (a fairly grownup one), in answer to the standard "did you have a nice weekend" type question.

"Ohh, really, life modelling, ohh ? I suppose it's quite liberating?"

"Well, it depends, probably for the target audience. Me, my shoulder's a bit stiff now".

PS, if you like the sound of this and want to know more, do get in touch with the Spirited Bodies people via their website or Facebook page.  They are looking to build up to charitable status, and are looking for supporters/sponsors, use of venues and other such things. Maybe some IKEA bags would come in handy for the cushions.

Sketchbook Update

Here are some art-related uploads to Flickr.


Draw: Gesture. Class described previously.

  

Recent Holborn and ULU drop-in classes.

   

There of more of each sort in the respective sets.

These are flagged as Moderate in Flickr, so you'll have to log into your Flickr account and set your Safety preferences accordingly, if you want to see the nudes.


Tutored class : Drawing in the British Museum.
The concept of this one was a more experimental approach to drawing, as you can see. Working from the objects on display, and catching a couple of visitors.

Draw : Gesture Workshop

To Brighton for D's birthday, where we mooched around and ate food, and I stared at another naked person for two hours.

(Birthday was nice thanks, Terre à Terre was smashing, as usual, and also a shout out to the Prince George - more delicious veggie grub and a decent pint. Apart from that Brighton was up to its usual standard. We ambled around the shops, glanced at the sea, avoided the semi-ritualistic EDL shoutfest, and even sipped a Jubilee themed cocktail).

In the morning, I dropped into one of Draw's workshops, this one on Gesture Drawing. This is basically about capturing the essence of a pose in a short time.

Draw's HQ is in a rather unprepossessing, if not downright brutal, tower block in that slopey bit of territory between the high ground of the station and the low level of the Old Steine. Inside, it's all industrial paint finishes, exposed concrete and boomy acoustics. I can imagine a Blake's 7 episode being filmed there. But entering the studios is a surprise. It's a bit like Second Life actually, everything's very plain and cut and paste, stylistically, then you turn a corner and you are in someone else's head.  The Draw space is filled with bits and bobs of costumes, piles of props, shelves full of materials and books. Floaty white cloth on the tall windows distributes the light, and there are chairs and easels around.

Having gathered a quorum of artists (I got the impression that the start time was more of a suggested aim rather than a scheduled event), Jake introduced the class concept, the relationship of this workshop to the others and to the untutored drop-ins, and the model (Laura).

We started by drawing without looking. OK we looked a bit (can't help it!), but the idea was to work with the eyes and the model primarily, following the features with the drawing implement. We did a bunch of those, switching between 2-3 minute poses, before then allowing some looking ("look at the model more than the paper"), again with rapid switching of poses. Laura had her work cut out, having to spin around on her little dais so that we all got some physical variety.

The results of the blind drawings were quite scary-looking, so are probably not going to be published. EDIT: some on Flickr. Mine looked like a violent struggle had taken place on the paper, whereas others' were evocative of repetitive therapeutic movements, possibly within the scope of a medical treatment of some kind.  All very entertaining!

Advice was then given on the quality of lines to aim for : keying the important lines to the significant structure (some anatomical insight being vital); using the emotional aspect of the pose as a cue to the style of mark-making; iterating the confident, expressive line, rather than scratching a series of tentative ones. This all seemed credible, but slightly harder to put into practice.  Perhaps I could have done with some demonstrations or some feedback on what I was doing.

And so we progressed, fortified by tea and the solidarity of the company, toward the slightly longer realm of the 10 minute pose. We were encouraged to treat the first 2-3 minutes of the drawing as an exercise in itself, using the remaining time for an upgrade of the initial sketch. Drawing holistically is much more successful than working from top to bottom or left to right.  Amongst other things, it's more likely that the scale of the drawing is going to be self-consistent, which saves time in the end, and makes a composition more successful.

All in all, a useful provocative and energising class. I'm going to have to work it through somehow, of course by doing more drawing, but maybe a bit of reading, probably starting with my Betty Edwards  The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, or perhaps Kimon Nicolaides' The Natural Way to Draw.

Visit to Abbey House Gardens

I had a very enjoyable afternoon getting naked in someone else's garden last weekend. Here's a trip report.

Readers in the UK may be familiar with Abbey House Gardens in Malmesbury, Wiltshire. It's a quite a well-known ornamental garden, er, what's that ghastly word, attraction, that happens also to have several clothing-optional days each year. The owners are themselves naturists, who some time ago they thought to start an experiment, thinking that it would be interesting to see how naturists and clothed visitors might interact. These is somewhat different from when a naturist club takes over a regular venue for a designated period. On such occasions the only visitors are those who know about it in advance. Alton Towers, for example. has annual downtime on its rides though their leisure pool remains open, and so there's a BN-organised visit to the site that weekend. At AHG, however, they take the perhaps bold view that there's no need to close the site to everyone, merely to place enough notices at the entrance and on the website to "warn" the clothed constituency.

So how does it go? Quite well, as it happens. The existence of these days is pretty well-known in the naturist scene, so I've been planning to go along for at least a couple of years. Usually, there's been some sort of excuse not to go, apart from laziness, like poor weather or a family do. Last weekend was bright and warm (hot even), and D was wrapped up in OU work, so off I went. We'd visited the gardens once before after a WOMAD festival, so even if the place was going to be full of weirdos, I knew it wasn't going to be dreadful afternoon.

Having driven along a very warm M4, I park at the town pay and display (very full), and yomp up the steps to the old town and Abbey. What's this? Through the not-very-opaque fence/screen on the garden boundary, one can just see naked men and women ... Past the special signs, pause at the ticket hut to pay (I was expecting a "you do know it's nudie day" spiel but no comment was offered), and I go in. It all looks normal; lots of formal hedges, topiary and sculpture, with interesting planting distributed artfully, all looking in excellent order.  The first visitors I see, in the first of the garden areas, is a family sat around a table looking a bit glum as if their favourite team's just been relegated. Perhaps they all take mood cues from their two teenagers, who look especially non-plussed. And on then through a leafy arch into the bit where the tea shop is, and here we are in a swirl of nudity! About 30 people milling around in the buff. There are some people wearing clothes, but not many. Perhaps the Glums were not impressed, and had retreated to consider their options.

Changing, or rather unclothing, is done in what is usually the (covered) restaurant section off from the tea garden. Carrier bags containing visitor's clothes are spread around, each numbered with a ticket. Ian himself sits numbering bags. I got number 389 (don't know if they started with 001). It reminds me of the kit area at a road race, there are that many bags. The teashop, with a least three staff, is working furiously to keep up with demand. Clearly, there's no problem with visitor numbers!

Having de-clothed, I have a more extensive look around. The main gardens have various areas, and the two lawns are both full of people, walking around (there is so much planting and sculpture to see and admire), or lying or sitting on towels, some having picnic lunches. There must be more than 150 visitors just by a quick count, probably more. Amongst them are perhaps a dozen people wearing any clothes at all, several of whom are with their naturist partners. It seems an ideal environment for the "mixed" couple or family. As you might expect, there is a bit of a male bias, but there are plenty of couples and groups, and even a couple of families with young children.

The atmosphere is very convivial and chatty, more like a garden party than a standard open garden, certainly at the upper level of the site, where the formal aspects are more developed. Behind the Abbey house, the ground falls down to river (Avon?) level, by means of a series of labyrinthine zig-zag paths and steps. This is the area that's vaguely glimpsed from the nearby footpaths. There are many things to see down here, both living and man-made, and the feel is not so formal, more loose and free.

Eventually I reach the river level.  There's a natural theme to the garden here, with the river being crossed by a footbridge, a little hut/pagoda on an island, and some water features. The planting is also beautiful (and labelled by species).

Again, there are chatty visitors walking around alone or in small groups, a couple of families with younger children, and a score of people lying on the lawn. Clothing is very unusual to see. It's hard to find a free spot, but I do find a space to sit, where I draw some of the grounds, especially the art, but also the people.

Drawing is a nice way to get talking to people, being fairly unintrusive, and people like to be drawn or to talk about their own supposed lack of skill. "I wish I could draw, but I really can't".  I have to dispute this, in the nicest possible way: "There's no big secret to it (though there are some tricks). Just draw what you see, hundreds of times, and be prepared to do it better next time".

Some discussion ensues about the suitability of the river for swimming. Certainly the hundreds of tiny fish seem to like it. It looks shallow, clear, and not too fast, so in I go. The bottom is soft and squishy with alluvium but once I'm in properly it's extremely nice. I do a couple of lengths (not knowing where it goes after the footbridge!) turn around and hop out. No messing about with cossies or towels, just jump in and out, and let the sun do the drying.

That's the essence of naturism for me: no fuss, no membership card, no elaborate rituals. It's simple enjoyment of the elements, the body and its senses, and friendly company.

Drawing Movement

Whereas drawing from a posed figure is hard enough to do properly, drawing an actual moving human (or animal) is something else again. So off I went to a Dance Drawing Workshop at the University of Surrey (Guildford) to see if I could pick up some skills.

Having found the place (eventually, not quite controlling the Tourette's), and having missed most of the the jolly introductions (1 leader, 1 model, 6 punters) we were straight into the deep end. After a run through of a piece of dance, which I found slightly incomprehensible without its music, we then attempted to draw a skirt-swishing passage from it. My sketchpad at this point looks like a 1 year monkey has played with it: just squirls on a page. Arrgh!! I was trying to speed up the 2-minute gesture drawing technique but it wasn't working. It was either my lack of speed, or more likely my insufficient memory for moving objects.

Getting shallower, or perhaps throwing in some buoyancy aids, we then looked at smaller and smaller sections. First of all a shorter run from the same piece, and then some improvised elements. It seemed were were on a breaking-down/decomposition path rather than a building-up/integration path. Maybe that's for us to work on at home.



Click on image for bigger size (on Flickr).

At one point we got to a highly structured practice, where the model would, slowly, hold a pose, move, hold the next pose, and repeat in a loop with four states (video). This would correspond to three or four "postures" of tai chi (which, incidentally, would be really good for this sort of drawing exercise). After a while, I got into the rhythm. I could glance up when she was still, draw when she was moving, and then catch up for the next of the sequential poses. By missing out one of the four, I had enough bandwidth to work on three of the four poses, on a single page. So this felt like an interleaved set of quick drawings, rather than drawing movement as such. This was to do with my way of cheating, as I could have equally have tried to draw the moving arcs not the static nodes.

I think my best images of movement came from an African sequence, done in red chalk. The model repeated a ~20 second loop for about 15 minutes, and got a good workout in the process. It was such a joyful dance so there was a lot of happiness in the room at that point, which helped enormously with the drawing.



There were also some conventional held poses to round off the day. I'm not sure I really wanted these, and anyway had a hard time interpreting the model's form in her black clothes. Clothed models, whatever next!? We finished off with a Degas style number (stretching on the floor, lots of lacy fabric), held for 20 minutes (no picture of that, but you can imagine it better than I can draw it).



A very interesting experience, well organised, with a nice group of artists attending. Writing about it now has made me think about levels of movement in a different way (yes, I drew myself an annotated diagram), and started me on thinking about tactics for drawing them.

Draw : Grimm Tales

Last Saturday, to a Draw session themed around fairy tales, entitled Grimm Tales.

Quite wonderful concept : bringing theatricality (costumes, music, plot) and fun to the process of life drawing. Pretty popular too, about 100 artists jostling for space to see the models.

Illustrator Geo Parkin captured the vibe much better than I did, and has a superior scanning technique. However, for the morbidly curious, here are some of my sketches (click on image to be taken to Flickr). Links to other artists on Draw's own blog.

Desirables of a Life Class

I'm not hugely experienced in life drawing (just over two years), though I've seen three or four different types of class/session now. I'm usually open to whatever the class is. However, I've built up some ideas about what I like. I've tried to reflect on the most important, which appear towards the top of the list. I hesitate to call them Requirements, so let's say they are Desirables.  I've left out things like location and frequency, as these are on the Cost side of the equation.  Can you tell that I'm accustomed to thinking with my left brain? Or that I'm fairly grumpy?


My ideal drawing class, or strictly session, would have : 

1. A Model, or maybe Some Models, who are willing to be still and be studied for a while.
   
   That's basically it for essentials, so here are the differentiators:
   
2. Nude. The figure can best be studied without obstructing clothing. On the model I mean. Some is OK, but essentially I'd like to draw the figure. 
3. Time. A decent session duration. Two hours is standard, but I could go low as 40 minutes or up three hours. Beyond that, the place has to be comfy and offer other features.
4. Poses. A variety of poses, some short, some long, in various postures (stand, point, stretch, sit, lie).
5. Stillness. Poses held quite accurately, though doesn't have to be static to the millimetre.
   
   You get all that with any normal class with experienced models (or good guidance). So now we go to the aspects which vary a lot from class to class.
   
6. Light. Good light falling on the models, preferably warm and directional. Medium shadows that show form.
7. More Light. Good amount of light on the drawing paper, neutral and flat.  (Yeah I know, bear with me, this is an ideal list.) I'd like to be able to see a light mark made with a 2H pencil.
8. Knowledge. Both of how long each pose will last, and what poses there will be. No sudden surprises.  Poses may be slightly longer than advertised.
9. Schedule. Start, break and stop at the advertised time. I usually have a train to catch.
10. Space. This means adequate sightlines, fairly close to the model. Enough leg and elbow room to adjust my drawing position. There should be the option of sitting (on chairs) or standing to work, and moving around.
11. Peace. No crashing about, dropping things or giggling.  Noisily setting up next to me after I've been concentrating for 10 mins? ... hmm, not impressed. Talking in a soft voice is fine. This is do with the culture of the class, and harder for the leader to control.
12. Easels and boards. It's very nice to have these available, as they don't fit in my bag so well.
13. Tea. I can't survive on will alone, so refreshments are very good to have. A nearby shop/cafe if the venue doesn't put on its own tea. This needs toilets to work properly. A class shorter than 2 hours can do without.
14. Sympathy/society. Interacting with other artists (and models) is part of the process. I don't especially want formal crits or anything, but it's good to see what approaches and techniques are being used, and to have the chance to chat with the others. Again this is class culture aspect, as some people don't seem comfortable with having their work on show.
15. Tuition. It depends on the intent of the class. I can cope with none, sympathetic guidance, all the way to stern correction. Demonstration is a very effective technique. This could simply be having a drawing done in the same time as I made my attempt, and getting some quick Q+A with the master.
16. Materials. It's a bonus to have paper and such for sale, though I'm basically going to bring my favourite stuff to a class. Having consumables such as tape, fixer, water and towel/rags is very nice.
17. Beer. Post-session pub trips are nice to have. But these would essentially be a wind down for me, so no jumping joints thanks. 
18. No extraneous noises.  I've listed this one separately as it's to do with the environment rather than class culture.
19. Hygeine.  The room should be fairly clean. It should be safe to sit on the floor, and there should be wastebins that are not already overflowing.
20. Admin. This means signing up, paying, finding information and all that, should not be a hassle.
21. Beautiful models. Well, everyone is beautiful, but you know what I mean. I've listed this simply to show that it's low on the list. Anyone can be a life model.
    
    Now we are into the nice-to-haves, no particular order :
    
22. Variations on class leadership. I've never experienced a class without one, so assume it may be necessary. It would be interesting to try a class led from within, i.e. a model or artist intermittently changing mode, or just by having everyone keep to a chalked-up menu, which might work for a small group of like-minded people.
23. Theatre (ideas, props, costumes). A sense of occasion is fine, and a narrative is interesting for long sessions. However, if the narrative has surprising elements in it, then this is in danger of breaking the Knowledge of the Pose desirable. If the drawings turn out OK, it also adds interest to the sketchbook, which goes down well with the non-artists who later see it.
24. Music (see also Theatre).  I don't mind a bit of ambient background noodling, but I could do without singing (unless word-free) and dramatic musical content. Some artists stick their iPods in.  Were I to do so, it would be vocal-free, but not necessarily chill-out. E.g. Electronica, instrumental rock, dub reggae, classical would all work, and could even be pretty loud.  The main thing is that it shouldn't draw attention to itself at the intellectual level. If it's live, it should be in tune (nothing like a flat to draw attention to itself). I recognise this is personal; I'm crap at multitasking (e.g. can't answer a question if I'm typing a sentence), but I do like working with music on.

Next time, I might tell you how some different classes have done on this scale.