I am looking for answers on my spirited journey, and my search has brought me to a new place.
It has become apparent that those who are not in the know are not qualified to wholly advise. But I wanted intelligence from new quarters; so in this effort, I find myself as teacher. Now I’ve never been to art school as a student or a tutor, but I’ve been listening and watching many times. My pupil is learning how to draw me. It’s never been like this before.
He is challenged by my nudity, and I by our pairing. I show him what I know or what I can do. He slowly realises what life drawing is, and what I am like. He is frustrated by the difficulty, and I by a new tenderness I feel. I want to cross over and embrace him, because he has presented a most welcome opportunity for a blurring of worlds. There is no money here, but an exchange of skill and a sharing of time.
I laugh out loud from my bed and wonder where I have been all these years.
This is no random contact, we are old friends (of friends) and more than a decade has separated us. I grew up with them in all our immodesty and irreverent rapture; something of my soul belongs with them. It was first on the dance floor together we all were spirited bodies.
He at first was married to line, and careful measured proportion. I bark at him through the briefest of poses, “What do you see? What draws your eye most? What does the pose say? DRAW THAT!”
Stunned by his muse’s orders, he gets it. It’s my stern expression that must be caught, or sheer feminine fragility, the essence in a hand gesture, and the poise of a being inclined to take him on.