I know I owe you two blog posts (eating for $5 a day and taking lessons for three different forms of dance), but I wanted to give you all an update on my career as a nude model.
Although I thought there was no way I was going to continue sitting for Lynn after my initial 10 week commitment, it has now been 14 weeks and I not only sit for her (and others) twice a week, but I have taken on figure and portrait drawing classes at a local art studio. It’s not something that I will do forever, but for now, I love it. I love to go to Lynn’s studio and get paid to hang out with a group of women that are so talented and warm and funny, and who occasionally spray me with water on accident.
My love affair with the Lynn Forbes School of Sculpture started about a month after I started sitting. A woman named Ann, who is a pint-sized burst of positive energy, started coming to sculpt my portrait and we clicked immediately. She is goofy and funny and has already flattened the back of her sculpture because she sent it tumbling to the ground, so of course I love her.
Then starting the first week in January, we got another addition- June, a snowbird from Salt Lake City. Her wry sense of humor complements Ann’s and every time the three of us are in the room together, I’m either getting sprayed by the water bottle meant for clay (June claims this is an accident), they’re making fun of my ponytail because it’s never centered at the back of my head, or we’re just laughing for no reason at all.
Now the class has grown and on any given Wednesday or Friday, there are between four and eight people sculpting some version of me. Sitting for the large group was a bit horrifying at first because when I took a break, I saw that one woman had formed these giant, fake-looking breasts, a man had given me a huge beak-like nose that covered half my face and another had given me a butt the size of an Escalade. I seriously pretended I had to go to the bathroom so I could study myself in the mirror and make sure they weren’t right. But then as Lynn came around and corrected them, and as they started to form more definite shapes in the clay, I could see my likeness come through and I eventually started to see the sculptures as their art, not representations of me. As I relaxed, the sessions became more fun.
Today, Ann was trying to get the nostrils to look right but Lynn’s explanations weren’t making sense… so they decided to get a closer look.
“Ok so you see the hole here?” Lynn had her pinky finger millimeters from my face while Ann squatted at my feet and looked up my nose. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had any green “friends” hanging around.
“Oh yea, I see what you’re talking about.” She was now right under my chin, peering like a kid at science camp.
“So you see how dark the hole gets, we’re not going to go all the way into the darkness, but-“ and with that, I, and everyone else in the class, burst out laughing. I’m ok with people studying every curve of my body while trying to re-create it in a cube of semi-solid mud, but when they start to dissect unflattering orifices, I draw the line. It’s a good thing Lynn has a sense of humor.
The figure drawing classes are definitely more structured and not as fun as sculpture. I have to sit on a stage under a light that’s too hot and awkwardly placed at the crown of my head like a branding iron, and the artists take themselves very seriously.
The first class I sat for was on a Friday night at 7pm, right in the middle of rush hour traffic, so of course I was running late. I flew into the parking lot at 7:07pm, sprinted into the studio, spit my apologies at the instructor who directed me to the bathroom to change, and barely closed the door before I started ripping off my clothes. I came out in my bathrobe and hurried to the stage, paying very little attention to my surroundings. Once the instructor had positioned me lying on a chase lounge and set the timer, I turned to face the room and realized there were twelve pairs of male eyes staring at me. I almost threw up.
I tried my best to keep a pleasant, blank look on my face, but as a trickle of sweat began to make its way from my armpit down the side of my body, I’m sure my face was pure horror. I couldn’t help it. I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. What made it worse was when the guys tried to talk to me during the break. I was wearing my bathrobe, but I could still feel my naked image through their mundane questions of, “So…you from here?” I mean, really guys? After the third break, I just stayed on stage and pretended to huddle near the space heater.
The classes got progressively better after that, and some of the students and instructors have turned out to be really cool, but it’s not something that I’ll continue after this school term.
Posing nude for art in all mediums has definitely helped me to become savagely comfortable in my skin, and more confident, but it’s not for the faint of heart. My brother’s girlfriend asked if I would recommend it to other people who need a positive jolt in the body image department, and I had to tell her, “Maybe.” It really depends on how insecure you are. It’s not easy to have people study every line, curve and pock mark, and if your self-image is so poor that you can barely look at yourself in the mirror (no matter how beautiful people tell you, you are), posing nude is not for you. At least not yet. But if you’re “fine” with how you look but have never thought of yourself as particularly pretty or attractive, then I would recommend it. The instructors and students will complement you and point out the parts of you they find stunning as they create, and it can only boost, or at least pet, your fragile ego.
Although I thought there was no way I was going to continue sitting for Lynn after my initial 10 week commitment, it has now been 14 weeks and I not only sit for her (and others) twice a week, but I have taken on figure and portrait drawing classes at a local art studio. It’s not something that I will do forever, but for now, I love it. I love to go to Lynn’s studio and get paid to hang out with a group of women that are so talented and warm and funny, and who occasionally spray me with water on accident.
My love affair with the Lynn Forbes School of Sculpture started about a month after I started sitting. A woman named Ann, who is a pint-sized burst of positive energy, started coming to sculpt my portrait and we clicked immediately. She is goofy and funny and has already flattened the back of her sculpture because she sent it tumbling to the ground, so of course I love her.
Then starting the first week in January, we got another addition- June, a snowbird from Salt Lake City. Her wry sense of humor complements Ann’s and every time the three of us are in the room together, I’m either getting sprayed by the water bottle meant for clay (June claims this is an accident), they’re making fun of my ponytail because it’s never centered at the back of my head, or we’re just laughing for no reason at all.
Now the class has grown and on any given Wednesday or Friday, there are between four and eight people sculpting some version of me. Sitting for the large group was a bit horrifying at first because when I took a break, I saw that one woman had formed these giant, fake-looking breasts, a man had given me a huge beak-like nose that covered half my face and another had given me a butt the size of an Escalade. I seriously pretended I had to go to the bathroom so I could study myself in the mirror and make sure they weren’t right. But then as Lynn came around and corrected them, and as they started to form more definite shapes in the clay, I could see my likeness come through and I eventually started to see the sculptures as their art, not representations of me. As I relaxed, the sessions became more fun.
Today, Ann was trying to get the nostrils to look right but Lynn’s explanations weren’t making sense… so they decided to get a closer look.
“Ok so you see the hole here?” Lynn had her pinky finger millimeters from my face while Ann squatted at my feet and looked up my nose. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had any green “friends” hanging around.
“Oh yea, I see what you’re talking about.” She was now right under my chin, peering like a kid at science camp.
“So you see how dark the hole gets, we’re not going to go all the way into the darkness, but-“ and with that, I, and everyone else in the class, burst out laughing. I’m ok with people studying every curve of my body while trying to re-create it in a cube of semi-solid mud, but when they start to dissect unflattering orifices, I draw the line. It’s a good thing Lynn has a sense of humor.
The figure drawing classes are definitely more structured and not as fun as sculpture. I have to sit on a stage under a light that’s too hot and awkwardly placed at the crown of my head like a branding iron, and the artists take themselves very seriously.
The first class I sat for was on a Friday night at 7pm, right in the middle of rush hour traffic, so of course I was running late. I flew into the parking lot at 7:07pm, sprinted into the studio, spit my apologies at the instructor who directed me to the bathroom to change, and barely closed the door before I started ripping off my clothes. I came out in my bathrobe and hurried to the stage, paying very little attention to my surroundings. Once the instructor had positioned me lying on a chase lounge and set the timer, I turned to face the room and realized there were twelve pairs of male eyes staring at me. I almost threw up.
I tried my best to keep a pleasant, blank look on my face, but as a trickle of sweat began to make its way from my armpit down the side of my body, I’m sure my face was pure horror. I couldn’t help it. I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. What made it worse was when the guys tried to talk to me during the break. I was wearing my bathrobe, but I could still feel my naked image through their mundane questions of, “So…you from here?” I mean, really guys? After the third break, I just stayed on stage and pretended to huddle near the space heater.
The classes got progressively better after that, and some of the students and instructors have turned out to be really cool, but it’s not something that I’ll continue after this school term.
Posing nude for art in all mediums has definitely helped me to become savagely comfortable in my skin, and more confident, but it’s not for the faint of heart. My brother’s girlfriend asked if I would recommend it to other people who need a positive jolt in the body image department, and I had to tell her, “Maybe.” It really depends on how insecure you are. It’s not easy to have people study every line, curve and pock mark, and if your self-image is so poor that you can barely look at yourself in the mirror (no matter how beautiful people tell you, you are), posing nude is not for you. At least not yet. But if you’re “fine” with how you look but have never thought of yourself as particularly pretty or attractive, then I would recommend it. The instructors and students will complement you and point out the parts of you they find stunning as they create, and it can only boost, or at least pet, your fragile ego.
Your stamina and confidence have reassured me that of course you could do this! I wasn't so sure you'd take on the challenge at first, but here you are - almost a year later - stripped down (literally!) of inhibition .... or so we think :) I'm glad you did this, and I'm glad you survived it without throwing up. Otherwise, your readers would be devoid of some juicy details!
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