Arms and Legs SO long!

The model yesterday was extremely serious. She didn’t smile easily and her poses were more like performance art!

Her arms and legs war so long that they seemed to come for you, to drag you into their frightening embrace!

Her hair was shaved in parts and yet snakily long and intense in others.

I was almost too frightened to draw….My drawings ended up being done with out looking at my page for fear of being entangled in her witchy fingers!

She was sort of beautiful but crooked in some way.

It never ceases to amaze me how energy does NEVER lie, we can stand in a seemingly calm daze whilst everything about us screams FREE ME!

Art is a wonderful philosophy to work with, I am grateful ūüôā


The Critical Piece!

It began with a prickly feeling in my foot.

I had been hired by a serious artist for a ‘critical piece’ (his words).

He’d placed me carefully ¬†in a classical pose with one arm behind my head and on my side, very Matisse. He had high aspirations!

He’d taken twenty minutes to get the pose right and a further twenty to make a grid on his page.

Being a seasoned model, I had experienced long sittings in various positions, some quite twisted, a reflection of the artist’s mind, without a doubt!

But never had I sat SO long without a break, throw in a lumpy couch, the artist’s self-important stare and I was going numb fast.

Not just a little bit numb, but the prickle had turned and my feet were throbbing a sick sort of cold.

The sensation travelled like the tide up my shins, over my thighs and into my pelvis.

‘Please, sir,’ choosing to speak before my mouth muscles ceased to function, ‘excuse me but I really need to move my body.’

‘WHAT!!! NO stay right there! Not an inch not an inch..’

‘But I can’t…pain….’ I moved my foot and he, brush poised, beret perched, actually, ¬†LITERALLY screamed!

A grown man wailing like a baby being dragged off the breast.

I am usually  accommodating to the extreme when modelling but this time there was no choice, I had to look after myself despite the overturning of easels and middle aged screeching!

I offered to return to the pose but the switch had been flipped, never before had I witnessed an artist’s tantrum like this one!

His painting was ‘RUINED’ he would ‘never never never get it NOW’ like Don Music from Sesame street!

I had to make a choice, should I stay or should I go? Staying and riding his tantrum out MIGHT mean I’d get paid BUT leaving now would definitely free me from emotional torment and who knew how long it was going to last.

I slunk away, taking my robe and my water bottle, slipping out to the sound of glass crashing across the tiles.

Maybe, just maybe, if he’d put as much passion into his painting as he does his melodrama………



Desperate Adonis

His body was buffed and puffed, there was little room for the artists to sit comfortably!

This new male model was shiny and smooth, not a manly hair welcome on his body from the centre of a magazine.

There was no doubt he took pride in his appearance, possibly a little too much!

My paints kept slipping in streaks of frustration across the page, for although he stood still, his energy was making unconscious waves

difficult to surf or draw.

His insecurity seemed to scream and parts of him pulsed with a desire to escape…or was that just me?

My art took on a life of its own as I turned away from our desperate Adonis.

It was impossible to draw the energy of one so incomplete.

I was reminded, once again, without a shadow of a doubt, it is NEVER the form.

Not that attracts or repels, it is never what we THINK is the issue, It is never the idea we have played with but something else that drives and inspires…

Something much more compelling than our ill conceived concepts. More fascinating than flesh…….

s o m e t h i n g in the breath, or the walk or the eyes, s o m e t h i n g worth the time it might take to discover it….

This s o m e t h i n g is what makes art ART!

Blossoming Woman

We had a beautiful girl, model for us recently, she was young, it was her first time in front of the pencil.

Her hair was golden and full, her body still retained a whisper of child.

She kept her clothes on, which is fine for those who need to retain their secrets.

I drew her shyness, her coy, fleeting attempts at the more expressive poses.

She led me in my mind, back to the places where innocence took up more space than wisdom and life was anticipation rather than an experience.

I drew these emotions with deliberation, evoking a time cloud of love to travel my inner sky and envelope the child I was.

Thankyou, blossoming woman for the timely reminder to appreciate body, mind, spirit in all it’s beautiful and valuable stages.

The Rounded Woman

Last week I had the privilege of attending a life drawing class as an ARTIST instead of as the model.
What a lovely change! My body was comfortably covered and safe from the host of animal life that we get at this particular bush venue.
The model was a full blown hippy from deep in the mountains of the northern rivers area.
her dreadlocks were beaded in shiny colours and swung below her voluptuous breasts.
What a Rubenesque body she had, an absolute pleasure to draw.
What I noticed most about this lady was her serenity, for apart from her dramatic claims to ‘only EVER wear green’ and her outrageous hairstyle she was at complete peace in her poses.
Her body folded over itself in pure sensuality.
When her lover, Athena and her child Eucalyptus swung by to collect her I was truly sorry to see her go.
So for all those women out there who worry about the shape or size of your body,
I implore you to forget about it, just be yourself and find your serenity THAT is where your appeal truly lies and THAT is what inspires others to create their best work!

Ants In My Pants!

Literally, but first they are on my toes! Imagine keeping the pose with ants on your toes, not easy.

They’re little ants, not bull ants or green ants, but still disconcerting and they DO bite.

I wriggle surreptitiously to discourage and squash (despite my  burgeoning Buddhist ideals and deep Catholic guilt) but soon it becomes apparent  these little black pinheads are not to be deterred.

I have to call a break.

I leap up as discreetly as I can and grab my knickers ‘AHHHH’; bitten in the most unreachable places, places the artist’s don’t even get to draw!

This particular job, just not worth $25 an hour however noble I consider myself to be as an artist and a model.

When we resume, I’m covered head to toe in a natural sticky bug repellant, a mossie coil burns toxically in the corner and I have chosen to perch on a stool for the rest of session!

Ahhh modelling on an ants nest, I’m sure it was worse for them than it was for me!


A Naked Thought

With all eyes upon me I allow my mind to back away from the company.

The pencils are poised and one girl has spread out an enormous piece of paper, I wonder how they will see me today.

I have been a troll, a wizened old lady, an Amazonian warrior…mostly by accident!

There is a giant part of me that takes great pleasure in offering this gift of nudity to others, after all its not an easy job. Taking clothes off for the average woman can be quite a challenge, and believe me I am an average woman!

What is average…?

Hmmmm, maybe I’m not average, I have eight children, but I am no super model either, although there is a little bit of me that still naively wishes I was!

No it’s not an easy job and I congratulate myself at breaking through the degrees of discomfort in order to present myself here today.

I wonder whether there is something powerful about finding the courage to go naked or is it another excuse to retreat further inside…

I think there is both inherent in this job and I will expound further on this concept I’m sure, but for now lets settle back into a classical pose and dream of apple crumble….