The Things I Do for Money and Art

I'm a model. I've modelled for all sorts of artists: sculptors, painters, body painters, fashion designers, film-makers, photographers, and sketchers. I've been naked, draped in cloth, covered in paints and cosmetics, liberally sprinkled with shiny steel nails, and clad in skin-tight burlap and stretch-velvet.

I've posed in all sorts of manners. I've sauntered down the catwalk, flaunting the fashionable garb of various designers. I've been nude and hanging from a cross. I've straddled a chair made of nails wearing only black, leather, lace-up boots. I've performed breast exams on video.

At the moment, I haven't modelled for about a year, but I may start again within the month. The last time I modelled, it was for a bridal show, and I wore a velvet gown. This time it will be for a figure-drawing class and I'll be wearing my birthday suit. It will be my first time doing this kind of modelling in two years, and I'm nervous. Figure-modelling is extraordinarily physically demanding. I feel uneasy about holding long poses again. Admittedly, the time limits aren't as bad as for sculptors or painters. I once held an extremely uncomfortable six-hour pose for a painting class, and I've sat perfectly still for more than three hours for a sculpting class. In comparison, one- and fifteen-minute poses aren't dreadful at all. However, I don't know if I'm in shape to hold a half-hour pose. I'm not into yoga, and I haven't worked out for a couple of years (unless you count interprovincial bicycling). I'm going to have to practice my stretches and poses.

So why the hell do I do this?

Well, the money isn't too bad. I made more than double minimum wage, which was not too shabby for a starving student. For the breast cancer video, I made approximately $75/hour, but that is an exception. When it comes right down to it, I model because I love being the centre of attention; I certainly have a captive audience. There's nothing quite like posing in the middle of a figure-drawing class, knowing that twenty pairs of eyes are glued to your every physical detail. It's not a comfortable sensation, and I wouldn't recommend it for anyone horribly self-conscious. There is a certain advantage to being a female nude model: I don't have the fear certain parts of my anatomy will radically change shape if my mind wanders. However, unlike female models, male models don't have to look like a kite once a month.

Nevertheless, posing isn't something just anyone can do, whether they're comfortably clothed or not. Modelling for artists takes a huge amount of self-discipline. I have to be malleable to the artist's wishes. I wear contact lenses in a dust- and charcoal-filled environment. I have to be able to control every quiver of flesh--to be able to remain absolutely still no matter how uncomfortable I may be. I remain perfectly still while tickly beads of sweat trickle along my body. I manage not to flinch as mosquitoes feast on whatever part of me they so choose. Fortunately for me, I've been able to learn to doze without moving--a very useful talent for lengthy reclining poses.

Sometimes modelling for art classes presents some interesting situations. Once, I went to my figure-drawing class, but for the first time, I forgot to wear my contacts. I couldn't wear my glasses because the artists don't like to draw them, so I was effectively blind throughout this session. During my break, I put my glasses on and found myself staring into the eyes of Andy, a painfully shy friend of mine whom I had not seen for months. It was just like being a deer caught in headlights. We stared at each other with horrified expressions for quite some time. Well, although it was nice seeing him again, I was not used to seeing acquaintances or friends in the classes I work. The funny thing is, Andy didn't know if it would be okay to show his drawings of me to other people. Afterwards, I went downstairs with him to see my photographer friend Vik. She was developing photos of me for her nude unit in photography class, and didn't know if she could show them to Andy. I said, "He's just seen the real thing, so you may as well show him the piccies!" I think Andy was traumatized by the entire situation. He didn't go to any more figure drawing classes. As my ex-roommate Brad says, "It was a Seinfeld moment...."

Around the same time I worked as a figure model, I also worked as an art gallery attendant. It is a discomfiting situation when there may be naked pictures of me displayed. I was always afraid I would have to field questions like, "Is that you???" Fortunately, I never had to do that in the gallery--I only had to do it in the art college, where pictures of me frequently lined the halls.

Since the writing of this piece, I've started modelling again. It all came back to me, and I made it through the half-hour poses relatively unscathed.

Lost?

Do you too get nekkid in public for cash? Tell me about it!

Onward to Orchids in the Garbage....