Images

Choosing a Different Path, & Spirited Bodies at The Dana Centre

by Cynthia Barlow Marrs at Dana Centre

Sometimes I get a touch of the social phobia – the shivers creep up on me as I get dressed for a family function, or an attack of nerves has me weeping on a bus on route to a networking event which I am sure will be full of ‘posh’ women! It’s that fear of being judged for not having a ‘proper’ job, a ‘normal’ life. I would prefer it if instead of subtle remarks hard to pinpoint when you are feeling twitchy, people came out with the more direct “But how do you get by with a crap job like that?” or “Are you a slag because you pose for artists?” “Is it because you are mentally ill?” “So where did your parents go wrong?” “I hope my daughter never meets you!”

I am so familiar with the usual run of questions trying to suss out if I am still renting in my ’30s, if I can afford to do this because I have a rich husband (I don’t!), if there is any evidence of a ‘normal’ job in my background (there isn’t), if my life gets any more shocking than being a life model (this is where the fun starts); I can anticipate this nonsense a mile off. Sometimes I am on form coming back at them in all my cutting finery, other times it’s an effort and I reel off some well worn spiel and take another sip.

It doesn’t happen very often, but when things do get to me, I ask friends why I still do this. Recently, a good friend reminded me. She said, picking up that part of me wondered why I am not ‘normal’ after feeling like an outsider at a party where everyone seemed to be part of the ‘mainstream’; “It’s very important what you do. If you had a child, you would not be able to make Spirited Bodies the way you are now. Most people grow up thinking they must get a certain kind of job, with a set income. They must marry the right kind of person, buy the right property, have children at the right age, mix with the right people and send their children to the right school. When people do choose a different path, that is something amazing.” (Her voice was shaking. She is a young Grandmother who is very close to her family and has grown to appreciate so much an alternative lifestyle.) “You must celebrate your different path,” she said, “And remember how unique and inspiring it is.” Thank Goodness for strong, clear-sighted friends. I knew immediately that she was right, her words rang loud and resonated deeply. I almost cried with joy as I remembered that I had indeed chosen a different path many years ago. When I was still a teenager I knew I never wanted to be conventional! The girls in my North London grammar school wreaked of materialism and bored me no end. I got off the track, scrambled through all sorts of wilderness to find some freaks who were real! Idealistic and romantic – me? More like dark, fearless and underground!! It can take a long time to come out of the dark, and sometimes it’s pretty fucking scary. But I am out now, and I mean business!

On Tuesday Lucy and I gave a presentation at The Science Museum‘s ‘The Dana Centre‘ in South Kensington at an event called ‘Eating Identities’. Lucy spoke whilst showing slides and I posed so the audience could draw. Lucy was talking about portrayal of the body in the media focusing on youth, slimness and sexualisation, and how Spirited Bodies can help people discover a sense of value in their bodies no matter what. Other speakers included Dr Meredith Brown who is a feminist art historian at The Courtauld Institute; she looked at the female form through the ages in art, and Catherine Collins who is Principal dietician at St George’s Hospital in Tooting; she discussed the futility of most fad diets and how our bodies are meant to be a certain shape anyway so we are better off not attempting to deviate too much from that. While these two spoke, Lucy and I both posed. It definitely felt quite novel to have some life drawing at this presentation – when Meredith was speaking I got the impression she had not anticipated how real and live we would be, nude and contorted in front of her! She was trying to describe one of the original models for a Renaissance Venus painting or some such, and the fact that the model was a prostitute. She kept stuttering on that word as she looked open mouthed at me in front of her feet away on a table with my legs open and unashamed, totally cool!

Here are some photos of the presentation and more of the artwork from it.

Me in classic one-legged pose

Some artistic licence with the accessories!

Life Drawing Therapeutic for Older People

Today I modelled at Jackson’s Lane community and arts centre in Highgate, North London. The group is for older people, 55+, but most are in their 70s and 80s.

I was touched when Edna, an 87 year old with a dowager’s stoop revealed her unexpected joy at coming to life drawing. A few years ago her spine had suddenly started to crumble, literally one day she felt it go. Formerly 5′ 6″ I think, she lost several inches and now walks with a frame. She said, “It feels like for the first time since my body became broken, I am facing that fact through examining another body. I can see what’s wrong by looking at another body that is functioning. The doctors never show you, and they don’t look at you nude either, (except when operating) though they have to treat you. No one wants to see your body when you are older; relatives don’t even take photos of me any more.”

Despite this sad tale, Edna expresses a lot of happiness on her smiling face and in her twinkling eyes. She has lived a lot throughout her life so far, working as a psychotherapist, travel writer and latterly a photographer. She used to climb mountains and dance a lot. Fellow artist Sheila suggests it is better not to look back because it may remind us what we have lost; better to look forward as life is always full of surprises!

Liz who runs the class has gotten to know the members quite well, and they feel safe talking about painful feelings sometimes connected with families who are unkind to them. One woman describes her children’s greedy interests in her home… and their lack of sensitivity or consideration for her preferences. She says she enjoys coming to the groups at Jacksons Lane where members are ‘pre-internet; they actually sit down and talk, tell stories.’ Her family dismissively say, ‘why would you want to hang around with that bunch of disabled people?’

Sheila and Edna both clearly have some experience of life drawing, and an artistic sensibility. As I photograph their work, they ask what for, so I explain about Spirited Bodies. I mention the 73 year old woman who had had 2 hips and a knee replaced so only posed sitting down, and did not tell her judgmental family. I also recount the recent appearance of 82 year old Arleen who is a life model (who has had a mastectomy), at our Southbank event. Edna and Sheila are all ears, asking where can they find out more? When will there be an opportunity in North London? It is as if I have poured a drop of hope into their midweek afternoon. The class awaits more funding to be resurrected (today is the last session in a series) and I sincerely hope it is.

my 1st pose is about 10 minutes with a bit of a twist

By the 3rd pose Edna has revealed her excitement at confronting an able bodied form, and how it is helping her understand her condition. I decide a spine view is in order

after a break of some coffee and cake, longer seated poses are decided on. It was very cold today, so I wrapped my coat round my shoulders

the coat becomes part of the pose

I love this luxurious final pose!

Some lovely drawings by a very sweet group; rarely does life modelling feel so much like it could help someone.

Naomi Wolf & Women of the World festival, Southbank

Wolf got in trouble for revealing too much of herself in her latest book entitled ‘Vagina’. Controversy, talking about her own vagina. She says that word a lot, as well as describing its different quadrants, outer and inner labia, clitoris, G-spot and perineum. She learnt a lot about vaginas since she had a spinal injury which cost her sensation in that area, and also layers of consciousness she says. She felt sad and didn’t know why till the injury was diagnosed, then corrected and sensation returned. This made her aware of what she missed when normal use of her vagina was restricted. The incredible euphoria accompanying orgasm that added meaning, direction to her life. She got to researching vaginas and found some hidden material, which explained something of our sexist culture which loves to mock the vagina. About how there is a brain to vagina connection or relationship, and that the range of euphoria and energy that the vagina may release is immense. The clitoris and G-spot are opposite poles of an axis simultaneously capable of reaching each other. The suppression of this research speaks volumes.

It is well known and addressed that erectile dysfunction affects or is related to many areas of a man’s life, altering his performance. Naturally there is a similar relationship for women and their vaginas, but that is less discussed.

When a woman seeks out sexual pleasure and is supported by her culture in doing that, dopamine is released in her, she becomes more confident and her oxytocin levels rise. Creative hormones move her forward with positive energy. Dopamine makes a person less easy to push around, to subjugate. We have internalised the idea that women’s sexuality is ridiculous. In her book ‘Fire with Fire’ Wolf asserts that women are on the route to equality, and to achieve it they must stop being victims. During the ‘sexual revolution’ in the ’70s, a survey in which women self-reported, showed that 30% of women did not reach orgasm when they want to. It seems there has been a sort of plateau reached as this statistic has hardly changed in the last 40 years.

So the bottom line is female sexual pleasure makes a woman powerful, so information about how to maximise this is not popular with patriarchal systems like religion. Hence sexuality and also Love can be very subversive.

In the rape culture of war people are dehumanised, and women’s bodies respond negatively to rape reducing their chances of enjoying sex. The autonomic nervous system which leads to activation of good orgasms, is inhibited by anti-erotic impulses such as fear, stress and anger.

Wolf grew up in San Francisco around her lesbian Mum in the ’70s. She observed how her Mum’s friends became shining and integrated in a culture that supported their sexuality; she’d seen the same people previously more withdrawn, before they found their place. This was an environment which emphasized women’s fulfillment as an entitlement. It ought to be on the national curriculum!

What else did I take from Naomi Wolf’s talk at Women of the World festival on Saturday evening? That western feminists have a lot to learn from our sisters in developing countries because she reckons they are at the vanguard of feminism today, really pushing boundaries. That we ought to be kinder to each other – it’s not about judging others because they have had surgery or don’t wish to call themselves feminists. That women hold emotional trauma in at least one quadrant of the vagina and this can be released through sexual healing. None of us are heterosexual, we all respond to a variety of stimuli despite what we say (well I knew that anyway!) And finally women generally need to learn how to receive pleasure better, as this has been suppressed in favour of male sexuality for too long. I resonate strongly with this, finding it hard to really let go most of the time. On the few occasions when I have been least inhibited, either alcohol, drugs or sometimes the euphoria of love have facilitated it. But to reach that high on a more regular basis, I am still working on that.

Going to put up some recent pictures from classes I have modelled in. There is a lot more to say about the WOW festival Lucy and I were at last weekend, like how many celebrities Lucy failed to realise she was chatting up because we’d reached that point in the weekend where she could no longer recognise faces. And how everything worked out for the best despite several drop-outs, because we had so many Spirited Bodies models present to help at our stall so some were able to step in and model too. That when the plan to film the event collapsed this was a blessing because our models gave the most precious and powerful testimonials we could have imagined which might easily have been inhibited with the presence of a camera. Similarly when I asked the audience how many would like to try doing a pose there and then, about half of them put up their hands, no doubt encouraged by the models’ words. The artwork will be up soon.

I went to a workshop about body image by the ‘Endangered Bodies’ group which I also want to report on, and the last event – Alice Walker introducing her film – was the perfect finale, so moving and inspiring. We will be following up our WOW contacts for some time and learning from some of the advice suggested. Becoming a charity may be a good choice for us, but so too might a business which is a social enterprise. The atmosphere at WOW is electric with so many women on fire!

a glimpse of vagina! I think these pastels are by Jo Parmenter from the session at Richmond Adult Community College

quick poses

by model and tutor Hugh

Docile Bodies Rising Up

First I want to thank Deirdre, the feminist sociology professor I met at a viewing of a film about a legendary life model last year. She recommended ‘The Politics of Women’s Bodies; Sexuality, Appearance and Behaviour’, a selection of essays collated by Rose Weitz. Weitz explains how historically women were expected to separate their maternal and sexual aspects, as men were unable to accept that the women they wanted to be nurturing their future generations might also have needs. To a large extent this still stands. Hence the duality, the double standard; a woman is either a Madonna or a whore.

In ‘Believing is Seeing’, Judith Lorber discusses how 1 in 2000 births are in fact intersex (hermaphrodite) but this is covered up immediately by “corrective” surgery (which turns them all into females as it’s easier) as well as by a society that doesn’t wish to acknowledge what is outside of its binary vision. Our whole idea of ‘male’ and ‘female’ is a complete farce! Intersex people frequently report feeling trapped in the wrong body, so physically and socially constructed as our lives may be. Karin A Martin describes how we become gendered bodies; what we assume as nature is not just decided by surgical tradition, or nature; but by long held cultural beliefs. In primary school we learn how to behave and move like boys and girls. Girls are taught to take up less space.

In ‘Foucault, Femininity, and the Modernisation of Patriarchal Power’ Sandra Lee Bartky takes Foucault’s assertion that our bodies are insidiously controlled by the most subtle means, i.e. by the fear inside our own minds, which makes us into ‘docile bodies’ only too willing to move to the beat of the elite; and takes it to feminism’s logical step further.

“Subjected and practised bodies”

In ‘Daring to Desire’ Deborah L Tolman debunks a myth which supposes that women are less sexually inclined than men (where did they get that idea?), by showing that teenage girls feel anxiety about showing the true extent of their sexual feelings because of fear about what others will think of them. Written in 1994 this is somewhat out of date and I would like to see the updated version. When I was popping my cherry and bursting my bubble in the early ’90s, if I held off behaving like a total nymphomaniac at all times it was because I only liked goths! Rather I was kind of picky, and liked to be in control. I felt safe in a scene which allowed my sexuality and independence to be exercised. If I thought a guy was hitting on me I lost interest; I wanted to make the conquest. I wasn’t typical in a mainstream way, but on the goth scene I was not unusual. In ‘So Full of Myself as a Chick’, Amy C Wilkins examines a West Coast American town’s goth population for their unique standards of women’s sexuality as demonstrated during the ’90s. This is comparable to what I grew up with. Women on top and in charge, up to a point, which is the message Wilkins has. Polyamorous relationships as frequently exercised by goths still favour male sexuality in the end. Women’s bisexuality is used as an excuse for allowing lesbian relations yet somehow denying women total autonomy. That was then. I am not a practising goth now but sometimes visit. Not being among them it’s hard to see where they are at. I see the younger women as triumphant as ever riding a wave of freedom, at the same time I know how age can catch up with you, and pull you down (as the drugs wear off?)

‘Designing Women’ looks at how women who undergo elective mammoplasty corroborate existing patriarchal hegemony. They are simultaneously pawns and free agents who recognise their enhanced power as women with breasts of a certain shape and size, in a culture predisposed to appreciate such. “…the hegemony of beauty is exercised less in one-on-one interactions wherein a significant other expresses dissatisfaction with a specific woman’s beauty than with women’s internalisation of the generalised other, communicated through the hegemonic gaze.”

Injuries of class; like deviants tortured publicly in the 17th century, poor women bear bodily marks of their crime to remind us what could become of us. “The bodies of poor women and children, scarred and mutilated by state-mandated material deprivation… work as spectacles… for socialising and controlling bodies…” Branded with Infamy, Vivyan C Adair

Letting go of the Internalised Male Gaze

We (women) each have a censor inside of us judging us from a (perceived) man’s perspective. Not bad since we are often trying to attract them – good to be on top of what they may think of us. One step ahead of them. Yet debilitating when taken to an extreme so that concern over our appearance and behaviour dominates our lives, taking up far too much time, and at the cost of far more important issues – like getting equal pay and decent maternity rights. And when our perception of the male gaze informs us that we must relentlessly diet or modify ourselves this is doubtless damaging for health mental and physical. Our internalisation of the ‘male’ gaze is not fictitious though – we glean it from media’s obsession. We women are not supposed to take up physical space – or by extension power space; we’re not supposed to have our own voices.

In ‘Letting Ourselves Go’, Cecilia Hartley exposes how fat women are the only real feminists. For my entire adult life I have had a body that is deemed acceptable as a woman’s; a little pre-pubescent in form but not without curves, I don’t have to diet to remain a healthy size 8, in fact I eat quite a lot of what I want. I don’t go to the gym, but I am a compulsive cyclist and if I don’t get that buzz racing round the city I start to feel restless. And I hold tricky poses day in day out because that gets me high too. Natural expression and genetics. What am I doing pushing body confidence? Sharing a good feeling; and besides it’s more than just bodily boldness; confidence spans so many realms. If I can give something I take for granted to lots of others, maybe the universe will show me what has previously eluded me.

There is so much more I could say about this thought provoking book, but I must to bed and finish reading it!

The Pieta at Spirited Bodies 10; 8/2/13, photo by Gil Limor

The Pieta at Spirited Bodies 10; 8/2/13, both photos by Gil Limor

The Goth Phase: An Exploration In Persona (thoughtcatalog.com)

A Little Assymetry & a simple twist

Workshops are progressing smoothly and the machine rolls on steadily. I have decided to spend more time at my home (to centre my female energies!) and am reading a book about altars that women make at home. It is apparently a long tradition that has helped to maintain women’s spirituality throughout masculinely charged times. Women from the oriental East, South America and Northern Europe have all arrived at similar practises as a means to survival of the soul. In church , mosque, temple or synangogue, only men have the divine connection (apart from a little leeway recently), women often being kept away from sacred rites. At home, however women are free to exercise their instinctive spirituality.

A collection of favourite objects, mementos of friends, loved ones and dead relatives; symbolic images both personal and universal, amassed and arranged to inspire deep connection. An entire room may be given up to being an altar, or there may be several altars in a house, each for a different purpose; or else a single altar may suffice. I started to realise that without being aware of it, I had the makings of a few altars in my home. On the mantle piece a framed photograph of my Mother on her wedding day, an old Chinese carved wooden box taken from my Grandfather’s office after he died, and lower down on the woodwork, art postcards from a Great-aunt, my Grandfather again, and by Klimt and Schiele – 2 of my Mother’s favourite artists. Then resting by the gas fire the walking stick from 2 of my plays, beads from (when I took over) my sister’s squat, and crystals and candle sticks on the hearth.

By the computer a postcard from my sister with a painting that my Grandmother embroidered and hangs in my parents’ home, a small plastic polar bear to remind me of someone I call ‘Bear’, and a chipped mug given to me by theatre directors of a show I starred in a few years back. Small shiney stones and pretty shells, a pressed sycamore wing and a found lamp from my first home away from home. Some people like to put the past completely behind them, get rid of the old and start afresh. That can be healthy too, but I see a value in all my experiences and relationships and want to cherish the love and warmth they have given me, may still give me through memory. In my bedroom another two altars await activation! The dressing table beckons, as does another fire place bedecked with choice memorabilia.

In this evening’s workshop I want to bring attention to the beauty of a little assymetry in poses, and as well the way a subtle twist can add the right amount of complexity.

Here are some images from last week’s workshop, by Rade, and further down are some memories from the beloved Mortlake Christmas experience courtesy of one of the models.

imaginary cards in a tense game to the left, and a woman in mourning (at a nude funeral)

the artists are mirrored by the models in sketching poses!

a selection of Mike’s paintings in Mortlake

a portion of The Raft of the Medusa

more rafting

the storm in pencil I think by Charles

The Last Supper where some of the diners got to lounging

International Womens Pay

Tory tenure taking hold; welfare cuts finally hit home. One way or another I cannot afford the same space I have done – and I am working more than ever. Unless you have a private income, life modelling will not likely get you more than shared accommodation. No bad thing sharing, but I gotta say, 2 years in a flat by myself is the best thing to happen to me in some time. Headspace. You come out of a relationship, something intense and all consuming and you just want to feel… yourself… breathe. A privilege to be cherished this incredible space. In the quiets of conservation land I found a place roughly decorated with old fire places. Two grand of olde family money waiting for nothing in particular cushioned my landing.

Well it gave me time to set up Spirited Bodies and now we will become a charity. This evening we gave our first presentation to ladies at the Womens Institute in SW19. I read a little from a script and we excelled at flashing tricky poses to get them drawing. “This lot need to be entertained” the president told us. In March we’ll up the game for a bigger crowd at Southbank and this time it will be political. The female body and the male gaze. Stories of transformation and try it out now if you dare (and have a vagina).

Living with people is a powerful test of relationship, and I would always prefer it to be a free choice, not one elicited by circumstance, though there are some people who would never choose well much at all so circumstance must pretty much dictate directions!

Yesterday modelling in Dulwich where they warmed the wine for extra heating I found myself missing an ex… in the most familiar way. When someone is a principal reason for one being in a particular place now. He said I must never write about him, but lately he has gone off the radar and I worry. If you are reading and you know who you are, please give me a nod in some way to say yes, I am still here ok.

It is more and more the time to care for your dear ones, with colder nights, we must share the bill.

Losing my head in my flat all alone

a pretty trim figure but where is my mind?

like a mermaid or a snake I want to flip my powerful tail

birthday suit

irreverently languishing

behind you

sleeping on the job

I got curves

Appreciating Life Art when you are Undressed

This evening was a little chilly in the Daniel Libeskind Space on Holloway Road, but at least we could move as we perused some outstanding art works of the figurative variety. It was a ‘Clothing Optional’ event and most of the guests obliged as did some though not all of the artists. It was the first time this group known as Guerilla Galleries had put on such an event and no doubt it will be a learning curve. I know myself how tricky photography can be with a group of nude people – how do you take shots that everyone feels good about for one thing? Someone’s bum is bound to look too big and other parts sag ungainly and no matter how much you tell them it doesn’t matter, it just doesn’t wash. Photography is so easy today and potentially in the hands of a ludicrous number of creeps. The organisers received several complaints from those unkeen to be snapped willy nilly, myself being one of them. I don’t have a problem appearing nude on the internet. That however is different to being shot at quite surreptitiously when one is unaware. This is called rude, and technology is in the hands of plenty people who need to be taught manners! I am feeling a little matronly all of a sudden and feel quite sure that if such an event is repeated, hosts would do well to employ the presence of a few dominatrixes with the task of dealing with the too happy snappers.

I would like to show you images of art work from the event, however I will have to wait for them to be sent to me by organisers. I was really enjoying catching up with Spirited Bodies friends from several of our events and workshops as well as meeting new SBs to be, and the presence of unwanted camera work did put me off using my own even for innocent use. Plus there was after all a house photographer with far better equipment than I, so hopefully images will be shared and made public in due course.

I did download these from Facebook from 2 particularly Spirited artists’ Facebook pages – Pilar Camino Alcon has a lovely website too, and Eliza Freespirit was having lots of plasticeine fun.

By Pilar Camino Alcon

Colourful little people by Eliza Freespirit as exhibited in the 100% Nude exhibition

Little Spirited figures larging it by Faerie light

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Going underground

Very joyful overall so despite the technical drawback I hope they/we continue with events like these, and just keep learning. It was of course indicative of the overall picture in our society of too many creeps outnumbering comfortable and happy women. There was a gender bias in this scenario unsurprisingly, which is reflected too in the number of applications we receive from men, and women. We may alter our tactic to counter this, and be forced to make men jump through more hoops in order to have the privilege of spending time in the nude company of some of our female Spirited Bodies. I think some of the more body anxious women out there might feel safer and more relaxed to know that our event caters to them so impeccably. That men have shown their dedication to our cause and proven their worth and integrity. That men must compete for the honour of gracing the picture they complete. I think about the feminist fetish club, Pedestal (my description) and how the women who run that keep House slaves to see to female guests’ needs and desires. That those men profess a deep love for the Feminine, that they indeed worship Women as Goddesses. That has a pleasant ring to it. I will keep going back to the Women!

Queendom of the Goddess

Last year a life model came to see my performance, ‘Girl in Suitcase’, and on reading related blog posts told me she wanted to discuss some aspects of my past which interested her. Specifically domination. She said the felt an instinctive affinity with this fetish world of slaves and mistresses, but had not yet found an avenue by which to explore it. Life went by for over a year and then we connected again, and it happened this time that another friend was introducing me to a club called ‘Pedestal’.

Pedestal is a club for dominatrices and slaves, a club run by women, where women are worshipped. It is my kind of club and fast becoming my new favourite club. On arrival a house-slave presents each woman with a red rose. There is a whole team of house slaves to see to mistresses’ needs and offer canapes throughout the night. Men are allowed in the club as long as they are slaves, or at least agree to the club’s ethos that women are in charge. There is a room called the Goddess Room where men may only speak when spoken to (by a woman), otherwise they must wait their turn. My friends and I were treated to back massages by female masseuses in this room. As I lay having tension squeezed out of my lower back muscles so tight from poses putting pressure on the shapely curve in my lower spine, I watched women administering consented torture to men chained to racks, frames and other devices.

There is a theatrical element to this club as guests wear some extraordinary clothes, especially shoes and get up to some bizarre practices which are clearly meant to be watched. You do not feel wrong watching because that seems to be the point. One slave wore a harness and saddle and spent the night giving rides as a donkey to willing mistresses! In a fairly large cage men lie down in a row waiting to be trampled by the dominatrixes. They even queue up lying down at the entrance of the cage so that there is a run up. Once in the cage, ropes hanging from above offer support to the women usually in high heals, sometimes stilettoes as they set to trampling.

Here is an unflattering but action-filled picture of me having fun in the cage!

http://www.clubpedestal.com/viewImage.html?event=latest&image=7

My fellow life model’s first visit to Pedestal was a definite success. We had discussed her intention which related to an overwhelming dissatisfaction with the world and humanity at present. She said this frequently made her feel violent and made her worry for her sanity. A huge sense of injustice begotten by her Father having chosen money over her wellbeing gnaws at her. She feels disgust at men in particular, perhaps abetted by knowing of the extreme levels of corruption in her own country, led by powerful men.

She asked me what she could do in this club. I said you cannot just go and punch a man in the face, but you can engage with slaves who would like to be punished. Build up a rapport with them and they will willingly, gladly let you slap, spank and beat them amongst other activities. There need not be any sexual intent from the woman though the man is likely to get turned on even if he cannot act on it. If he upsets you then of course you may reprimand him and punish him.

So when slaves approached my friends and I and asked if someone would beat them, we handed them over to our curious new friend. Soon she had a queue of men to vent her frustrations on and she was smiling too. She was a natural with a whip and managed to break more than one spanking implement! As I left the club with her, men stopped her to compliment her trampling technique and suitably harsh beatings. One of the promoters wanted her to be on his guest list in future, and she would be very welcome in some other fetish clubs too.

This club is an ideal end to the working week. I found it hard to muster enthusiasm before going, being so tired – it had been such a busy week – except knowing I would be accompanying a potential dominatrix for her 1st time and hanging out with girlfriends in a special place. When I arrived however, the uplifting ambiance and general attention to my and other womens’ happiness completely transformed me and I got right into the mood of the night. I found the most amusing slave to entertain me and my friends; he proved good company, and his peculiar yet balanced moves hailed from some background in physical theatre, he was a bit of a jester. Every woman needs a good slave now and again!

Looking forward to more fun in the dominant woman’s playground that is Pedestal, in January.

Here are some images from a job this last week to which I was accompanied by James once more (http://spiritedbodies.com/2012/10/16/arts-for-all-all-about-the-man/). He had been ill for our event in October and an evening job precludes him from joining the workshop, so necessary preparation is derived by finding one of my jobs which is happy to have an extra trainee model to draw.

James and me for a half hour pose in Sidcup Adult Education College

from another angle we are closer together

I think this was a 15 minute pose

Life & Death in Mortlake

It has been an intensely busy period, lots going on and no time to write about it.

My Uncle who lived in Mortlake for the last few decades died at home there the other week somewhat suddenly. On a gloriously bright Winter day the family gathered on Thursday at Mortlake Crematorium. I can’t say I knew my Uncle well; he was mostly very reserved. I do remember however, on announcing to my non-plussed wider family that I intended to study drama, he remarked that being able to act is a very valuable skill, and we all need that in life. He worked on the stock exchange all his career, in a role which involved writing regular analyses of the market.

It’s funny how life sometimes lines things up so neatly. On my way to the wake, walking through Mortlake I was able to pass by Vernon Hall where our forthcoming event will be held on Saturday December 15th. The door to the building was open and as if demonstrating exactly what I needed to witness, all the heating was on in the hall, full blast. We last used the space in July, so naturally there was concern that the ample heating would be as powerful in the middle of a cold Winter. I also wanted to check the kitchen where we will make mulled wine to see what kind of stove is in operation. All was looking good.

As all the family were leaving my Aunt’s house, it happened that I had been booked to model that evening not far away in Richmond Adult Community College. What a pleasant experience; in stark contrast to a recent gig where artists made me feel uncomfortable with their constant fussing and disagreements over my pose which lasted a few sessions, these folk, led by a very calm and confident tutor made no fuss at all. Though a long pose over several days, no tape was placed around me, no chalk or charcoal marks outlining my form, no photos to ensure an exact reconfiguration. They were simply relaxed, and with some highly proficient artists among the friendly group. All styles are embraced there and it is understood they are working from life, a live model who will move a little, but if you trust her and work with her, she will find the pose happily again and again. I noticed that I felt able to give a little more of myself because the atmosphere is so positive. Everyone is there including me because we enjoy what we do, so there is no need for petty gripes.

I have never come across a group so at ease with what they do and it was empowering to know it can be done like this. I will take that knowledge elsewhere with me. I think it has something to do with the group running for about 20 years and some of the artists having seen each others’ children grow up together. There are strong bonds there which far surpass pointless fuss. There is a loving and learning environment and each week a different class member brings in a book about a favourite artist and the group discuss the work and look at the pictures.

Workshop-wise we had another fine evening last Wednesday of new models and some with experience creating original poses in 2s, 3s and a bigger group one. Here are some images by artists who were present:

A model from the October event starts the session with a 10 minute pose. Picture by Francis Wardale in felt tip I believe

A female duo pose sitting back to back, they had not met before

The same pose in charcoal and pencil by Rade

The same pose in charcoal, chalk and pencil by Rade

An angry king with his serf, 10 minute pose

Part of a sequence of combat poses based on the Elgin marbles!

Women having a tussle

a tricky 10 minute bending pose, coming to the aid of a floor bound figure

another viewpoint

a group pose finale, 10 minutes frozen drunk at a party

We are looking forward to celebrating life on Saturday 15th December, in the afternoon in Vernon Hall, Mortlake. Do get in touch if you would like to come and draw, paint or sculpt.

Continual Rebirth

The negotiation of the model with her destiny; her liberation from karmic bondage dealt pose by pose, breath by breath, artist by artist and stroke by stroke.

A fastidious group in Dulwich. I am confident, go for a long standing twist. They are 320 degrees around me and some spot infinitesimal changes as more or less breast appears in their sight line, a greater proportion of shoulder etc. Their individual wills vie for the pose they want, they see; so they pull me – my profile a tad this way, my right arm back a bit and more weight on my left hip. I feel like a puppet. So I must be strong. By the time they have finished manipulating I feel like I am on the rack. I want to scream “I make the pose – you deal with it! Otherwise there is a mortuary up the road at the hospital…”

I think, when I can make every session smooth, work each one to be bliss for myself, the nirvana it can be, then I will be ready for the next level. Ready to reincarnate!

Running around to far flung pockets of London all in a day’s work is no stranger to a life model.

My session in Muswell Hill is weekly and in a ‘therapy’ room in a sort of neutral facility. Here I will process years of childhood and adolescent torment in a slot on Tuesday evenings. There are four arbiters of my progress drawing results from my posture. They will experiment with wrong-handed drawing and release their inner artist/child while I writhe on the inside as my inner rebel taunts me.

Getting the bus to freedom after feels like I ought to be heading to Feet First at the Camden Palace. I am just missing a can of Strongbow.

Drawings by Simon Whittle from my recent session at the Mall Galleries (see last post: http://spiritedbodies.com/2012/11/06/performance-preparation/)

This water colour by Graham Wood, also Hesketh Hubbard, Mall Galleries

Esther Bunting