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.

Life Modelling

EDIT: recursive link from Spirited Bodies.
http://spiritedbodies.com/2012/11/21/developing-in-the-workshop/

In a life drawing class a few weeks ago, the model announced that she was part of a group called Spirited Bodies, and that they were on the lookout for more models and artists. The aim of SB is a "Community encouraging people to love their bodies as they are, in particular finding body confidence and inner peace via life modelling in a group", its mission to "empower people to have a positive body image, and focus more within" and it runs "Multi-Life Modelling Events where people may recast their body consciousness". 

I think, and I could well be wrong about this, the target person is someone who feels that because they don't fit a Barbie/Ken sterotype there is something wrong with them and they shouldn't be seen in public, let alone with no clothes on. Those who know me would not associate me with lack of body confidence I'm sure, but I'm certainly not a standard issue action man either. Because the sessions involve lots of models I thought this was a low pressure route into life modelling, so I duly put myself forward. 

Tonight, I participated in a preparatory workshop in Clapham, involving two of the organisers, 8 models and 4 artists. It was Ve-ry In-ter-esting ... 

Bit of strange space (computer training room with a vaguely open area in the middle), and a tentative start, but then it settled down. Unlike a normal life class, there was lots of stopping and starting and a bit of talking. People took in turns to pose, given various directions "two minutes, convey a strong emotion" and the rest drew. Pointers of a practical nature were offered and discussed. Various small groups were formed and switched. Doodles/sketches shown at the end. Friendships formed.

So there we are, I now have nearly 20 minutes experience as a life model! Woo!

Aside from standing in one place not talking for minutes at a time, I found the idea of generating the pose the hardest work. I thought "righto I'll try THIS". It might be good, or boring, or hard to hold, and being a noob consists of a lot of trial and error, it seems. Unlike doing a presentation, once the pose is set, there's no playing around with it. If if doesn't work you just have to lump it and do different next time. It's also a bit of challenge working In The Round (I'm so used to rectangular spaces, with me up at one end). I can see why SB place emphasis on the workshops! 

Having a Tai Chi background definitely helped. Not only in standing practice, but also in having a repertoire of ready dynamic poses ready to roll. The main event is later in the year, when there will be dozens of models and even more artists. More reflections to come in the fullness of time.