Some stories lurk around in the cob-webby corners of the brain and are only summoned, like zombies, when something happens to shake them loose from their hiding places. Some are best stuffed right back in there. Still others are amusing enough to dust off and share with one's blog readers.
The following is one such story. Warning: this story contains nudity and crimes against art.
The something that has happened to trigger this particular memory is the recent exhibition at Dayton Visual Arts Center, where I am a member and frequent volunteer. DVAC's annual all-members show is typically centered around a thematic concept, usually related to art history or common practice in art. This year the exhibition is called "The Body Electric," which is a nod to the sponsor, Dayton Power and Light, and which provides artists free-range to interpret the human form or psyche.
What's the first thing that comes to mind? Figure drawing, right? Of course it does. A studio model and an artist at an easel are iconic, go-to cliches in movies or on TV, aren't they? If you have ever taken an art class, you have no doubt drawn a model.
I certainly have. Oy, have I ever! I was an art student.
For two years, 20 years ago, I returned to university as an adult to pursue a degree in Fine Arts. I declared a double-major in printmaking and drawing.
Drawing studio was…well, interesting. Our professor, Judy, had a favorite model. His name was Peter. She declared him to be her favorite model because he was sculpted perfectly and as she pointed out, "This man shows you muscle and bone, all at the same time." This was true. Peter was remarkably fit. Peter was a yogi. Now, don't get ahead of me on the story here.
We drew Peter each and every studio, every week, all through three semesters. We never saw a female model. No one ever came to our studio who looked like Venus on the half-shell a lá Botticelli. We saw no one of Rubinesque proportions. No waif-like, angular Modigliani-ish bodies either. Not even another male. Just Peter. Every time. Peter. Never clothed. Peter's scrawny butt for us to draw. Over and over.
Now, being a yogi is a real benefit for someone with a second career as an artist's model. Peter could hold a pose a very, very long time. And his poses were not your passive, run-of-the-mill "seated on a chair" variety. Oh, no. We were fortunate enough to draw Peter in very educational yoga Asanas. The Standing Warrior. The Triangle. The Spinal Twist. The Tree. The Downward Facing Dog. The Head Stand. Oh, yes, the Head Stand. In which gravity plays an interesting role with Peter's peter.
At break time, Peter would stretch out of his pose and run around, elf-like, visiting us student artists to view our drawings and chat a bit. Nude. Why put on pants or a robe? If he had wasted time getting dressed, we might have escaped. Drawing a nude model is one thing; you kind of lose yourself in the act of drawing and stop noticing that you are looking at a naked body. Chatting with a nude person standing next to you is quite something else. You really have no idea where to look.
Then one day, midway through the fourth semester, we got to the studio and Peter was not there! Where was he? Judy gravely announced that the poor man had had a bicycle accident on his way to class and would be laid up for a few weeks. Egad! My mind raced! Would we finally get to draw something or someone other than Peter?
"So, this week," she continued, "I would like you to draw the ABSENCE of Peter."
WHAT?!?!
You could feel the stunned silence in the studio. Seriously. There was no getting away from the guy. We took up our drawing tools in utter defeat. I created a Studio Model Kit in which some of my previous drawings of Peter could be inserted into a empty studio macquette; sort of an Insert Tab A into Slot B kind of thing. I got a B+
After that, I swore I'd never do life drawing again. It's kind of like that old tongue twister about pickled peppers. Once you repeat it a few times, it gets in your head, and you wish it wasn't. Because, even though, "Pliant Peter picked a pose of perfect posture," I would just as soon forget it!
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