The Model

An artist's model is a different thing from a fashion model.
A different thing! Have you objected to my objectifying the poor creature, naked in front of one person or a classroom of people? Not always naked, of course. Sometimes in full regalia of costume and jewelry and divinely resting on a settee. Notoriously, however, the model is known for being naked.

I used to sit for an artist who had long since married a very religious woman. She had decided that he could no longer draw or paint from the nude female form. His portraits were perfect depictions of statuesque elegance. The painstaking detail with which he painted kept everything visible, the shades in each strand of hair, the shadows as the clothing rippled attire, everything but personality was presented. We all wondered what she must fear since we took for granted that the model's nudity was impersonal.

In a figure drawing group, the model is a living object. At least in my experience. I may pose from every angle but when the timer announces the break, I put on my robe. I do not wear it because I am cold; there are usually heaters in the cooler months. In the summer I wear a lighter robe, but nonetheless wear one. The reason being that as I chat over a cup of tea with the artists, I suddenly appear as a person and I am disinclined to have a conversation about Milton, even Milton, in the nude. Once I am posing again, the conversation may continue, but my mind, expressing assorted opinions, is separate from the naked body that is being drawn or painted.

This separation of the mind and body is one of the reasons I enjoyed modeling when I was in college. Deeply engaged in my philosophy studies, busy running various school activities, the moments of quiet as pencils scratched across the drawing boards allowed me to still myself. Later, when I became interested in meditation, I never found the stillness sitting that I uncovered during those poses. I understood even better why more advanced meditative techniques would require certain postures to achieve particular states of mind.

In a one minute pose there is not time to capture the "spirit" of the person. Nor is that the intention. Rather the shape of the arm, the leg, the angle of the head must be quickly sketched as a brief warm-up. Building to a fifteen minute pose, the body of the model offers a view of a human anatomy. If he is grimacing, it is not his pain that is being portrayed, but rather the form of a figure grimacing that is being presented. If I thought it was me, I might be a little upset at the ugly renditions I see as I walk through the room later. Even when I sit for a portrait that takes months, as a model, I am rarely what is being painted. I am an actress, in a sense, pretending to be a fine lady in an elegant green hat or a mythic character fallen from the moon.