Being – Esther Bunting

Unselfconsciously I bathe myself intimately, reach inside, feel for the string that tells me I won’t be having babies – yet.

I inspect my nipples – are they unduly hairy, in need of a pluck? I might promote being happy with one’s body as it is, but that doesn’t exclude a few enhancements. I don’t shave my bits, partly because I have sensitive skin which flares up at the slightest mention of hair removal down there. I prefer the orange triangle of hair to an itching mass of red plucked chicken look. Admittedly I’ve not investigated laser removal or even depilatory cream/spray; I’m just not that fussed about the presence of my pubes and possibly too lazy. With my proportions I am frequently still infantilised aged 35; there’s no need to assist those fantasies. Then there’s the political point of not conforming to porn style pussy. I think this is every woman’s call and won’t judge others on this choice, but I do think more porn ought to be reclaimed and created from the woman’s point of view.

I’m thinking about how we are on our own, in the comfort of our own privacy. When we go to the toilet and we don’t think about the noise we’ll make or the smell. If we get an itch we’ll go right on in and scratch. The difference between being alone and with others, how it takes a while to share as much of everything as we can. When I fall in love or make a new friend I really notice where I am holding back or shy. After a while I’ll leave the door open, censor less. I am grateful for that intimacy with others, to just be myself getting on with living rather than worrying.

As Idun was saying while I was modelling in her class yesterday, “When you stop worrying, let go of preconceived ideas, that’s when the magic starts to happen.” So true. They were drawing with their ‘wrong’ hands.

When I am on form, life modelling is like a gift. I get paid to express myself as I am. I mean it’s spiritual! How much I am in the moment becomes a measure of how well I am working it. I guess that is the same for any job, but in this one, mostly what I am doing, is just being. Holding still and being. Looking vaguely interesting. Somehow. Cultivating posing. Tuning into my natural presence and switching it on full blast, whatever the fuck that means. Beaming at the artists till I forgot they are even there, remembering something funny my boyfriend did or some comedian…

I took pictures of some artworks that caught my eye in the Mall Galleries this evening. Cheekily I didn’t record who created them.

unnatural lights bounce of the glass

I notice I feel quite free among these artists, performing myself for them. If I feel sexy I show it, without being overt. Whatever I’m feeling they get it. They get more of me than some of my friends do and sometimes I think they know me better. They watch me just being.

by one of the guys at Mortlake; Paul’s Tuesday group

I keep thinking about intimacy. About my desire to share stupid stuff which probably turns my boyfriend off me but I like sharing because otherwise I would be holding back. Sure sometimes there is a value to resisting sharing and I will find such a line if it ought to be known.

I think partners who we love are a good place to start when considering intimacy. He is the only person I regularly have naked physical contact with. When I was younger there were many more such folks in my life and often I didn’t know them. Now I do monogamy. I love him very much, his physicality and all. He is more than twice my body weight and I love to feel the pressure of him bearing down on top of me! That is a sensation I cannot give to myself. I am comforted by his flesh; he makes me feel tiny and I am like a little fairy next to him.

My boyfriend makes me wish I had dropped out more. Like stayed on that road because then I’d have more friends like that, instead of disparate womenfolk of similar strands of awkwardness to myself. Hey ho, what to be done but just be getting on with where I am at… I need to be a life model just to come to terms with this stuff! In the end though I just let go of me because there is so much more to give.

When the doctor calls in the middle of the night, come to the hospital, this could be it. We don’t know if she’ll make it, but we need to know from you what you would like us to do if – if the life in her is not worth – if when she opens her eyes there is nothing there. They have the power and they need to know, have you thought about it? Yes because it happens each time – different doctors, sometimes different hospital, but each time she is under they have to ask.

Sometimes my instincts check in advance, they are not feeling adrenaline, I am sure this time will pass. Often I am pulled in to the brink on the edge of the rollercoaster seat. By the bedside crying, and appreciating time in the relatives’ suite, because that is the most meaningful conversations the rest of the family ever has with Dad. The family drama; and when the doctor calls, I know now that he is hoping. This time could be his meeting with freedom. He has discussed her wishes with her and the answer is to switch off from a life not worth the trouble. Meanwhile they continue, we keep on.

At the front of The Royal Festival Hall, Lucy and I find a table and furnish it with my large painted Spirited Bodies sign. We discuss the press release, skirting over our brushings with mental health. I was supposed to prepare the meeting we are about to have with our brand new SB models. We’ll wing it; well it’s not like we haven’t done it before. The hardest thing I find is putting myself in the position of someone new to the whole business. Remembering what it was like before nudity was normal, and even then it wasn’t that new to me. And tuning myself to a sensitive mode that is ready for newbies both anxious and nervous, as well as those in it for the craic, or because they just love what we’re doing. I’m a tiny bit nervous but it’s going to be fun.

They arrive one by one, with warm hand shakes and smiles, chairs gradually accumulated from across the room. They find me familiar, I have been emailing them individually, and it’s like we know each other, except now they’re all here I don’t know who each one is. It’s ok. We have important informations to impart and light-hearted anecdotes of bodily fluids and anti-sexual encounters. We – Lucy and I – are on familiar territory, and we pick up after each other. I try to feel what the interested faces are hoping to glean, and they ask about the photographs (for London Drawing) and how to choose poses. It goes well and I am high and full of love afterwards. That’s why we do it, because of them (and us). I love it when they are happy. The artists make another level of content, but for me it’s for the models first. They make me feel both humble and worthy. They are on edge with excitement to meet themselves in a space that is about just being, and being drawn. And they will be together, as in a drama, complimenting and interacting with each other, creating a story where there are bodies. We will be guiding them, but now already these that we have met, know more what to expect. Their minds will imagine and start to build the scene of the next event. The seeds are gestating in time for a rich bloom.