Helena Raymond-Hayling bares all on her experience modelling in the nude for Fine Art Society.
Being a life model has always been one of those half-serious things on my bucket list. It has been stagnantly nestled between running a marathon and writing a play, two other things I’ve been convinced would never actually come into fruition.
I offer my most sincere apologies to any residents of Queens Road who may have experienced an unexpected splash of mid-afternoon nudity
However, after attending many a life drawing session courtesy of UoB Fine Art Society, I realise my time has come, and as someone who is generally quite comfortable in my own skin and with nakedness generally, I couldn’t really see a reason to hold back any longer.
Life modeling is pretty much as you would expect, unnerving at first but when you start to realise that the people straing at you are there to draw you and not judge you, you get over it yourself quite quickly. Joel Hooper, Philosophy (2nd year)
On the morning of the class, I pace around my house frantically only stopping occasionally to experiment with different poses. Some are far too ambitious, and most that usually prove comfortable seem to ache after a while - I begin to panic. What on earth have I agreed to? How am I going to sit still for nearly two hours in silence? Lunch was strategically pushed back to 11am to avoid any kind of food coma mid-class, but I am famished by 1pm and make some emergency toast to eat en route.
I've bared all for dozens of people at a time in the name of art. I have a new appreciation for both the artists who model and those who interpret their figures through various media. One of the most rewarding aspects of life modeling for me is seeing the way people interpret my body from different angles, through different eyes, with different media - the human figure truly is among the most beautiful shapes in nature.
Jason Mueller Physics (PhD)
When I arrive, I clumsily get changed in the art supply cupboard (which has a window but no blind - and I offer my most sincere apologies to any residents of Queens Road who may have experienced an unexpected splash of mid-afternoon nudity).
I emerge and sheepishly drop my kimono, and here I am, standing totally naked in front of a room of strangers, who are all looking at me expectantly. By some miracle, all of my apprehension suddenly melts away and is replaced by a warming sense of clarity about the nature of the task upon which I have embarked. The fifteen faces sat at high desks before me, clutching their pencils and charcoal eagerly, do not behave like those in the canonical nightmare when arriving at school in the nude, red-faced and terrified.
The experience was not exactly liberating in a ‘I never want to wear clothes again’ kind of way, but more brought on a renewed sense of ease and comfort in my own skin.
Freya Savage, Biology (2nd year)
Rather then jeering and throwing poisinous glances, the faces before me in this moment are on a creative pilgrimage, an artistic mission. They are here to study the human form; to reduce my body - now running solely on adrenaline and sheer gumption - to lines, shapes and contours. It dawns on me that nobody present has any intention of passing judgment on me whatsoever. I feel very at ease.
The duration of the poses get progressively longer, starting with five minutes. I take the opportunity to assume a standing posture to begin, one hand outstretched and resting on a chair. My chosen soundtrack for the session is two albums I know back to back; Frank - Amy Winehouse and Currents - Tame Impala, so I can occupy myself with the familiar words and melodies. Unfortunately, it proves difficult to refrain from tapping my fingers and toes, or to actually sing aloud to Fuck Me Pumps. Perhaps choosing a less catchy album might serve me better in future.
As the session rolls on, I move from pose to pose with ease. Cross legged, on my back, on my side, on a chair - each time entertaining myself by singing in my head, counting back from 400 in sevens (even for a Physics student - excruciating) and observing the attendees’ quizzical and concentrated expressions. The chaise longue provided for the more lengthy poses is exceptionally comfortable - I am halfway to planning a heist in order that I can sneak it home when the last drawing is finished.
Each individual’s take on the same pose is very different, the unique creations form an array of colour, style and artistry.
Rising slowly, I re-robe myself and walk around the room to investigate the drawings from the session. This part I’ve been dreading - what if the angles I’d been drawn from proved to be devastatingly unflattering? Would my ‘english rose’ (read: unfortunately blotchy and pink-ish) complexion come off awfully on paper?
But I soon realise that I have nothing to wince over. Naturally, it is peculiar to be reduced to pencil lines and pastel smudges seamlessly superposed to build a two-dimensional image which resembles me. I see myself through the eyes of the producers: a figure of artistic interest, novelty and of a unique condition.
Each individual’s take on the same pose is very different, the unique creations form an array of colour, style and artistry. Everyone is timid and some even apologetic about the quality of their work, but I let people into the knowledge of the impression they are making upon my creative palate and self-image.
I’d discovered first hand that the human form is neither shameful nor vulgar.
Walking home, I contemplate why we as a society are so uncomfortable with nudity, and feel satisfied with how pleasant and manageable this experience was. As I enter my kitchen, I spot the toast I’d made for the walk to the venue and had forgotten in a frenzy.
Looking back, I have no idea why I was so apprehensive - I’d discovered first hand that the human form is neither shameful nor vulgar. I’d emerged empowered and enlightened and my bucket list is one satisfying step closer to completion.
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