body acceptance

When Life Models Gather ~ A Story of Life Modelling ~ part 3

Drawing from a Spirited Bodies life modelling workshop in Holborn, London, 2013

In a small seaside town on the coast of England, was an ambitious, older female model. She was quite large and working class. She loved her work and had done it for many years in her region. A dream of hers was to bring together life models in a group or gathering, and not just from close by to her. She had an idea about those models already, and was keen to stretch her net further and meet models from far away. From places where there was a huge variety of models and lots of younger ones too. When Facebook came along, it was an answer to her prayers, and soon she realised she could make a group there, at the end of 2009. She called it Life Models Only, and it was private – it needed to be, since some models wouldn’t join otherwise. In any case, they might be sharing nude drawings of themselves.

Drawing from the same workshop by Mike Flight; several models posing simultaneously

It was small to begin with, not reaching very far, but even this was a big step, simply joining up the models most local to her as well as a few of the more trusted artists. Some of the models were artists as well or married to artists so there was an organic way that people fitted into the group.

It wasn’t really until a couple of years later that some models from different counties and London had been grasped, and then the purpose of the group began to grow too. The conversations became more lively and you could tell that the contributors were really excited to be talking to one another for the first time. The leader, the woman who originated the group – let’s call her Leslie since I have lost touch with her – was extremely delighted by everyone’s interest and would tell the group how happy it made her to bring them together. What had begun as a handful of people, then settled at around 50 for a while, and now was over 100 and growing. It was 2012 and she had some of the most well known models in London there, who were also in the business of bringing models together. They knew lots of other models and kept adding people. For me there was a peak perhaps during that year when it was still very fresh, as well as 2013.

Leslie arranged gatherings at a venue local to her where a group of models from all over the country would pose together and be drawn by artists. Something similar had been organised in the North of England, though it wasn’t model-led. London Drawing were holding ‘The Drawing Theatre’ regularly which would involve a few models in theatrical tableaux in bigger venues. Art Macabre, originally ‘Death Drawing’, offered a gothic variety. Draw in Brighton held ‘The Drawing Circus‘, along similar lines but perhaps with more models, some being musicians, and on more of a collective-run basis. Spirited Bodies was in its heyday, organising multi-model extravaganzas including experienced and totally new models, mostly in London though we did also venture to Scotland. We held smaller workshops as well, such as the pictures are from, which were really for newcomers to try and learn how to model.

So there was this thriving, exciting, creative energy across the UK for experimenting, expanding and reaching new people with life drawing, and I have possibly missed out some projects! Certainly more emerged over the years, but these are what I remember from that time. Big events would attract models who travelled long distances to take part. It was a bit like the thrill of participating in a Spencer Tunick event, for that kind of person. We loved modelling per se; and we loved it even more in large groups. It was euphoric; like a rave, but with no drugs or loud music; just something purely natural and artistic. It was primal. All these different bodies feeling equal and accepted. Disabled people; their carers; people of all or as many ethnicities as possible; all genders; all expressions of humanity, all shapes and colours and ages; and on a common wavelength of art and body acceptance. It was glorious.

I remember the delight I felt at discussing matters of our modelling work with the Life Models Only group. This would also happen with ‘The List’* email group, where one found oneself eagerly awaiting others’ responses when something significant was under the models’ microscope of analysis. It made me feel empowered I think, with regard to my work and my rights. If something happened at a job which didn’t feel right, I could immediately let one of these groups know, whichever was most appropriate. I could receive others’ take on it and perhaps encouragement towards questioning whatever wasn’t sitting well. It gave one power to be able to say to an organiser, “This isn’t how other groups operate”, to be able to tell them real examples of how other places dealt with situations.

* see A Story of Life Modelling ~ part 1 and A Story of Life Modelling ~ part 2

When exactly Life Models Only became so large that it ceased to be a place where conversations felt intimate and safe, I can’t recall now, perhaps around 2014 – 2015. It felt out of control so I stopped tuning in. Other groups had emerged on Facebook and sometimes for a while that initial excitement would be there if something juicy came up. Leslie enjoyed having created an empire and all the attention it brought her. It would attract different jobs and opportunities to her and the group. Art projects which might not be paid but were fun. She met lots of new people. There was a cross-over with people who were naturists, and some of those were also into sexual freedom. This was a new arena for Leslie and she was a very curious person, open to discovering new avenues to explore.

At some point, her judgement seriously lapsed, because some of the men in the group had a predator nature that needed to be managed (and kicked out). Their inappropriate advances were not what other life models appreciated, and exactly the sort of thing, experience has shown us has to be kept in check in such groups online. The delicate matter was, for Leslie, these men represented a fun opportunity, while for other women they were a pest. I have to say, her naiveté aside, and inability to dance such a nuanced line, I also have compassion for how her experience as an older, larger woman exploring her sexuality later in life was her priority. Didn’t I get the chance to do that when I was young? Did I take for granted being found attractive? Hadn’t I known in my bones since I was a teenager that it was imperative for me to try lots of things out. To have different partners and see what was possible and push my boundaries. I salute anyone choosing that journey at any time in life, and even more so when they are older. That’s how you find out what you like, or it’s a way to do so. It’s not for everyone, but if it calls you, go follow. Nothing is simply good or bad, and while many of us would readily banish those pesty men, for her, they were her chance. Surely such unions ought to be encouraged where all parties are happy to be at the party.

That said, the group became a car crash, taken over by what to most people felt like a sleazy cartel. Not a pleasant place to be, certainly not what it had originally been. It was entertaining at best, if you looked on in detached incredulity. It may or may not have worked for Leslie in the end, it was hard to tell since matters spiralled way beyond any sane intervention. Such was the demise of Life Models Only which went out in a fiery blaze in late 2017, along with at least one other group, also infiltrated by the wrong people. This is a cautionary tale which I share because it is easily forgotten yet contains important messages. It’s not about Leslie’s folly, or all the bad people. It’s about when our passions exceed our awareness of others, and how overall, the experience of being part of what she created, allowed some of us to learn from it.

So a new life model group on Facebook was created which still goes, (though it is only London wide) and led by someone who had experience of all these forerunners, thus the aforementioned mistakes are mitigated against thoroughly. It seems it is quite a rare person in the scene who has the time, awareness and inclination to manage one of these groups. The group feels safe, but where we are now in 2025, and how many years it has been running, it contains 3.5 thousand members, so long gone are the days of natural, easy, intimate connection. For that I tend towards the people I already know. Maybe one day I will rediscover a smaller space as well, where people can connect in a safe group of optimum size.

The complexity of Leslie’s circumstance sheds light on the very sensitive matters pertaining to the holding of groups of people who practice nudism in some form, even as life models. They can be a magnet for men or people who seek sexual fulfilment/connection, or intimacy, and that may be hidden behind their front as a model or artist. While the full blown manifestation of this is generally inappropriate in the life drawing scene; in essence, it isn’t strange or wrong. By that I mean the energetic impulse of attraction and connection. It is actually natural; what is a problem is when it manifests in a predatory manner.

It is normal that we want to explore that part of ourselves and find others to do so with who may share an artistic interest. The nakedness in life modelling is an access point for sensing sexuality; we literally display our sex. Very often, the way these energies may be explored in the life drawing scene, is extremely subtle and in fact entirely unspoken. It may be a flirt but not necessarily with an individual; rather with a whole group, or platform. The response may be a drawing and a friendship. Truly it’s an incredibly healthy place to experience and share creative energies, where nothing physical beyond the posing generally takes place.

It’s a positive, uplifting feeling of sharing our naked selves with others, and being appreciated. It engenders moods and sensations of all manner of human experience, which goes much further than sexuality alone. This extraordinary exchange of energies can go a very long way; and for some, it takes the place of intimate partnership. It’s a favoured alternative. It means they can enjoy multiple attractions, without the complications of deeper entanglement! I think it’s pretty advanced as a life strategy, if that’s your thing. I also think it’s important to say that how we conduct ourselves is very pertinent. We must behave impeccably, or it will be detected easily, amongst such a sensitive crowd. Intent that crosses a line, even if it is only felt, will be noticed. Our true essence ideally resonates harmoniously with the others in the group. It’s about self awareness, and not projecting our desires onto others unduly.

There’s also the matter of distinguishing between very different scenes. There may be some nudity in common; but the norms, behaviours, vibes and expectations are completely different. It’s true that scenes can vary and encompass a variety of shades – like the swingers among the naturists; or erotic life drawing within life drawing as a whole. But these sexier strands are clearly demarcated subcultures.

I have shared drawings from a Spirited Bodies workshop in 2013 which was held at a community centre in Holborn, central London. Several people were learning how to model, practising different poses. There was an older couple among the group who were coming to terms with the woman’s loss of eye sight and mobility. They were very sweet as was the whole group who were wonderfully supportive of each other, and diverse. Artists captured them in a variety of ways. Beautiful memories.

These ‘Story of Life Modelling’ posts began on the Newington Green Life Drawing site.

Story of Life Modelling ~ part 2

Portrait of Lucy

It might have been Pratts (most excellent name for a life drawing group ever) in Twickenham where I saw Lucy first, if not The Mall Galleries, as we posed from opposite ends of the hall. I saw her before I spoke with her. Across the room, the largest model I’d ever seen, by far. A completely different animal to me, sprawling majestically along the bench. She was quite loud too; I could hear her negotiating her pose with the artists, or explaining it. And she laughed, she was jolly. I could tell she meant business and had plans for me, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be involved so I didn’t come forth at first. She was approaching with a notebook and pen and I sensed that she wanted my contact details and to do something awkward like connect! Although I was about 30 I was still pretty shy socially in certain settings, my work place included. I could give it all in the poses, but I didn’t need to make friends yet… We were surely very different and I was trying to write a play.

As I spelt out my email address to her she was adding it to a list. There were quite a few already on the scrap of paper which was nestled in her pad. Where did she find them and how long had she been collecting them? What was she going to do with it? It might have been a few months later I received her newsletter. It was long and rambling and I think she’d suffered from a lengthy uncomfortable pose with a dubious organiser. She wanted to share her experience with us, random models who probably didn’t know each other. She was gathering us in person too, only I couldn’t make it. These emails would appear and she would offer up tutors’ contact details, though I don’t remember following any of them up. I was already well booked, and learnt early that jobs which approached me directly tended to work out better for me than when I wrote to them.

Over time however, the value of this list resource became apparent to all of us. If one became ill, or needed to attend a rehearsal, a quick email could solve one’s inability to fulfil a commitment personally. You could tailor it – ‘slim dynamic female model needed to cover me!’ Luckily for me this category is well catered for amongst life models, and I came to know who was best suited. The trick was finding someone who the artists wouldn’t prefer… as that was something the list couldn’t legislate for. Not only have you let the group down, but also the stand-in is better! That probably happened to all of us at some stage, as well as conversely being the favoured stand-in. Equally important was that the stand-in was reliable and didn’t upset the group (unless you didn’t really like them of course). So the list had to be quality controlled. Tricky situations included being ill and the only available model is nothing like you. They go along to the job, and they receive a comment which could be racist. Obviously being white, I hadn’t experienced that from those people (though could imagine it, it’s not totally out of place). It becomes necessary to ditch that group, but the racism isn’t clear-cut enough that you can easily out them publicly. It was a flavour of what other models may more often encounter.

Collage and painting of Lucy

Round the corner from Heatherleys was a tower block estate on the edge of Chelsea. There was a squat inside where Brazilian circus artists and migrants who did not have the right to work in the UK lived. They made excellent models for the ladies who lunch, and Chelsea folk refining their drawing technique. A French male model was supplying drugs to the rest of the models, and one Autumn there was a climax of models breaking down and spinning out. The models were absent, collapsing and in a state of chaos. This energy of disruption was affecting the whole school, and while some students were deeply infatuated with their exotic muses, the uncertainty of the models’ presence pushing their artwork further, it couldn’t go on. Outside of the models’ clique who could tell who was behind it? A change in the system took time to embed in the school, necessitating longstanding models to reapply for the job, submitting various forms and official documents (actually this happened at all the colleges over a number of years). By the end of that process drug sharing was no longer so rampant, and the model pool was less interesting; more limited. Even among those who were legal, the job became less desirable. To maintain the former edge required finding different work, as yet unscathed by an increasingly intrusive bureaucracy.

This description of that earlier cohort of models (predating ‘The List’ in fact) highlights how applying excessive red tape to art schools and departments affected life on the ground. I was around just early enough to experience the different species we used to be. When we were edgier and less acceptable, we came from underground, on the fringes of society. We were unafraid to be strange, in fact committed to it. We were exiles and runaways, freaks who embraced our eccentricity. What became a nice job for people who were already quite comfortable, once nudity wasn’t so demonised, had previously been the domain of the brave and the unusual. Some of the pool hasn’t changed; we’ve always been actors and dancers or artists ourselves. And I am not being negative about the changes; I helped to create them. I think it’s good that more people have the chance to try our profession and explore themselves that way. I like that nudity becomes more acceptable – and we still have a long way to go.

Different currents coexist; while many of us are more comfortable with our bodies, others are swept up in pursuing an eternal youth, fed by late capitalist overdrive, if not sunken in self loathing, very distant from loving their own form. Multicultural inclusivity in fact threatens areas of our liberation, whilst a real fear of perverts escalates the problem. The hope is that we realise part of what makes our land so desirable, is our cultural freedom and openness to accept diversity. We welcome you in all your magnificence, and reciprocity is the only appropriate response. Of course I’m not speaking of the cruder elements encroaching – the far right becoming popular. However naïve I have faith in the light and will always follow it. The news does not have an interest in how many of us are waking up to love ourselves more, and it is this powerful drive which may turn the tide on the negative influences still besetting us.

Regardless of the bureaucratic shift, our culture permits personal exploration and individuation. This is really important. I don’t fully know why, but in some other countries it seems people are less willing to stand out and evolve themselves. Perhaps their laws and systems reflect this, but it’s also part of their national psyche. The possibility of pursuing art in later life, whether you initially trained in it when you were young or not, is so vital for growth. Freeing ourselves from the idea that only people who are naturally gifted may create art, is also key. Letting go of judging ourselves too harshly comes into it, and actually pervades an awful amount of our lives. Being open to making a mess and having fun is vital, whether through an artform, cooking, or walking in the woods. Leaving behind the straitjacket of social convention needs to happen if we are to expand into our greatest version of ourselves. Extricating ourselves from herd mentality and instead being ready to follow our individual callings is where the magic happens. To know what that calling is you oftentimes have to slow and quiet down, listen inwards. That voice is there but you must give it the right conditions.

lines drawn on Lucy’s face whilst posing for sculpture at Kensington & Chelsea college

Long before the rise of fashionable life drawing in recent years, there were ever groups of older (and sometimes not so old!) people round the UK meeting up to draw nudes. On a Tuesday morning in suburbia, or a Wednesday afternoon in the home counties; wherever it is be it church hall or community centre, someone’s garage or above a pub… this has been going on for decades! It crosses the class system I was delighted to find. Working class artists are at it just as much, even if fewer of them may afford the likes of Heatherleys or other traditional art schools. In these groups, the social aspect is valuable too. It’s about community and what makes life worth living. Older members die off and new ones must be recruited, so the group is open to those who haven’t done art before but would like to try now. Not always, but I do see that.

The models have always been very international, it’s part of our pedigree and makes us more interesting. We bring more relaxed attitudes, or escape authoritarian ones. We feel freer to express ourselves on foreign soil, away from family judgement. Being secular is what makes British life so available. Over the years I have been friends with several models, British and from elsewhere. Sometimes an assumption pervades that being born British life must be easier for one, but I don’t think it’s so simple. Often those who make it here from elsewhere are strong to have made that move. Whether they escaped, or chose a culturally advantageous location, there is strength in upping roots to make a new life in another country. Many people can’t, and I know I was limited in my earlier years by such predicaments. From addiction to being caught in abusive relationships, these circumstances hold one back, wherever you are.

Being a model can be a leveller, a means by which a new arrival to the UK may obtain work easily, without knowing much of the language, and purely by the magnetism of their character, ability to turn up on time and hold still, play on a reasonably level playing field with their British sisters and brothers. Most of my model colleagues have been foreign, and from the EU, which has not become distant as was feared, since Brexit. Many pass through modelling on the way to something better paid and more specialised, as well as Motherhood. More arrive and emerge. We are constantly renewing!

This series of posts about my life modelling journey is also featured on the Newington Green Life Drawing group’s site.

A Story of Life Modelling – part 1

Portrait of me by Celia Montague at Heatherleys School of Fine Art in 2008

Back in 2007 I began life modelling for a handful of artists my sister put me in touch with. She had modelled as a student and handed her contacts over to me when she emigrated not long after leaving college. Peter Hall was and still is an artist and model who ran a few groups and his small friendly Vauxhall session was my first. After that I knew I could do it and was pretty good as well, even as a brand new model. I had trained in physical theatre and was working as a jobbing actor. In the past I’d worked in various states of undress in adult entertainment shall we say. I’d also learnt how to meditate a few years before. So making shapes whilst nude and holding still for an audience of artists was not a problem in the slightest, in fact very enjoyable.

Another contact was a watercolour life painting tutor at the CityLit college, so I got employment there, and also at Heatherleys School of fine art. Once I got acquainted with Heatherleys I realised this could be a full time job. It was very easy to quickly be booked there all day everyday and possibly evenings too, plus weekends. It wasn’t in one’s best interests for mental health to be there that much however*, and in any case there was plenty of other work coming in too from all sorts of directions. I hadn’t fully appreciated at the time how it happened that I became a life model just before an enormous upsurge in the popularity of life drawing was about to take place. It was intersecting with a few cultural zeitgeists all at once. The British taboo/fascination with nudity; a trend in the art world swinging back to embrace the tradition of life drawing; and a soon to be emerging movement for body acceptance as well as personal empowerment. Little did I know those last ones would be very significant for my career in a few years.

Other factors affording the incredible proliferation of the life drawing scene in the UK since about 2009, include a flexible bureaucracy enabling people to easily start up their own groups – to hire spaces and book models. Such a system does not exist in France or some other places on the continent for example, so even though they have very important art centres, there are curbs on innovation and the pursuing of individual projects. I have always valued that relatively relaxed state of play we have, making it possible to realise one’s dreams in quite simple ways. It was even more relaxed when I first began as at that time, an undocumented migrant could work as a life model in many of the institutions who still paid cash. That has changed. There are also more safeguarding procedures now in art centres making it incumbent on organisers and models to have certain certificates, whether DBS for working with children or vulnerable adults; or public liability insurance; sometimes for first aid; as well as getting any electrical equipment safety checked.

From 2010 life models began to get together in a Facebook group called Life Models Only. It was very exciting, the first time we were connecting with each other not only with other models in the same city, but across the UK and sometimes from other parts of the world. A tandem group for life drawing artists and models which is still going is called LifeArt. That was always a very international space, but more artist led. Prior to and alongside the Facebook groups some of the London models had been gathered together in an email group by model Lucy Saunders. I met her at The Mall Galleries (Hesketh Hubbard) since they would book 4 models each Friday evening. She was keen that we should join up, share jobs, and organise to raise the pay and improve conditions. A union!

She arranged meetings in person as well, and shared life model news via her newsletter. We would offer jobs to ‘The List’ as it was known if we couldn’t make them ourselves. It was extremely helpful, and we could warn each other too, if an artist had crossed a line, which was generally an experience that female models faced. It wasn’t commonplace, but it did happen sometimes, and then having these groups was instrumental. Once we were on social media, it was possible to effect change almost immediately. It wasn’t such a big scene, so if someone was misbehaving, soon everyone would know.

More often it was to warn of a venue which was particularly cold, or didn’t offer enough breaks! Or the changing space was unsafe, or the artists demanded very challenging poses unsuitable to the model. In this way we would learn about each others’ circumstances, and how the job was a bit different for another kind of model. For example, some gigs were only booking female models, and some were only booking dancers or slim young female models. Others loved more variety. There were fewer fat models so they could be more in demand, but some places didn’t want them. There was a scarcity of models of colour, apart from a few main players including Morimda and Matthew who were both long time black models. It was very difficult to find Asian models.

It was towards the end of 2010 I received an email from Morimda, who was creating an art project where life modelling would be used as a tool to empower women regarding their body image. She wanted Lucy to be on board since she was a big networker, and she invited me as well, as I was also very experienced and articulate, and importantly online (at that time some of the old school models eschewed social media). We were going to put on an event at The Mall Galleries and invite 20 women to take part as models for their first time. The artists were up for the challenge. We would guide the new models regarding how to pose. In the end only 9 women took part, but even that was a considerable number of people to have modelling simultaneously. It was a wonderful sight to behold and I felt very proud of our achievement. We had prepared all the women in advance, and monitored their progress afterwards by staying in touch. Some became regular models. It was an overall success, only Morimda had had to back out of much of the organising in the run up. I did a lot of it myself and with Lucy. Truly it brought out something in me which hadn’t previously had an outlet; some kind of ability to lead and guide. I immersed myself in the project and it felt very rewarding. Morimda had to let go of it after the first event for personal reasons and she asked me to take it on, which I gladly did. The project was called Spirited Bodies and it is not exaggerating to say that it changed my life. That is another story for another post!

Sketch from the first Spirited Bodies event in November 2010 at The Mall Galleries, by John Sutton

This post also features on and in fact was requested originally by Newington Green Life Drawing group for their blog.