It was my first drawing class in college. I was nervous and at the same time excited. I had heard all kinds of stories from my Dad when he took a drawing class, and I had heard stories from other art majors. Live model drawing, what every artist needed.
I remember telling my aunt and uncle that I was taking the class, and of course my uncle had one vision of what the model should look like, and that was not going to happen. The model they sent was an older woman in her late 40’s and strategically knew how to operate. The blanket was a must, not only for her, but: for me, especially after lunch.
There is an initial awkwardness that comes over everyone including the model, and I had male models as well, that starts off the session, then everyone settles down. We begin to draw and it doesn’t bother one that the model is stark naked.
My aunt asked me one day after a session how it went, (I was staying at her home for the semester) and then told me a story. Seems as artist had a naked model women in his attic studio. He was sitting have a cup of tea with her, when suddenly he heard his wife’s footsteps coming up the stairs. “Quick, take off all your clothes!” he said.
One evening I had a show of my charcoal drawings, my parents coming to see it, it was a proud moment. I was considered a fine artist in a true sense, my drawings were so good, a few were stolen. At first I was angered, then I realized that they were worth stealing, and in a strange way felt good about it. I wondered what was so wrong that they didn’t steal them all!
I remember telling my aunt and uncle that I was taking the class, and of course my uncle had one vision of what the model should look like, and that was not going to happen. The model they sent was an older woman in her late 40’s and strategically knew how to operate. The blanket was a must, not only for her, but: for me, especially after lunch.
There is an initial awkwardness that comes over everyone including the model, and I had male models as well, that starts off the session, then everyone settles down. We begin to draw and it doesn’t bother one that the model is stark naked.
My aunt asked me one day after a session how it went, (I was staying at her home for the semester) and then told me a story. Seems as artist had a naked model women in his attic studio. He was sitting have a cup of tea with her, when suddenly he heard his wife’s footsteps coming up the stairs. “Quick, take off all your clothes!” he said.
One evening I had a show of my charcoal drawings, my parents coming to see it, it was a proud moment. I was considered a fine artist in a true sense, my drawings were so good, a few were stolen. At first I was angered, then I realized that they were worth stealing, and in a strange way felt good about it. I wondered what was so wrong that they didn’t steal them all!
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