Not all artists’ models are
created equal. Those who work at art
schools and sketch groups don’t need any prior modeling experience to get a
job. They just have to be willing to disrobe
and hold a pose, without moving, for up to 25 minutes at a time in front of a
group of rapt artists who consider sketching from the live model an enjoyable
and necessary part of their work routine.
The perfect-body police are not
allowed in the inner sanctum to muddy the waters for applicants. Come one, come all, fat or thin, short or
tall, beautiful or plain, handsome or ugly, perfectly proportioned or not even
a bit--it doesn’t matter to us one whit.
Just be able to inspire us with your posing attributes and you will be
accepted gratefully into this slightly offbeat, truly egalitarian alliance of
models and artists. That alone is
something to shout about in this culture of ours, which is so insanely obsessed
with physical appearance.
Holding
a pose for extended periods of time, though, is not easy by any means. Nor is the ability to maneuver one’s body
into artistic poses. Because of their
own disciplined training, dancers and actors tend to make very good
models. Student artists, who know what
poses artists like to draw, are generally good at modeling, as well. Some neophyte models are naturals, and it’s wonderful
to see a shy, awkward, novice become an inspiring model in just a few short
months.
Other
models never inspire artists with their poses no matter how many years they get
paid to do it. The inner radiance of a
human soul emanating from the best artists’ models is inexplicably
missing. But the art schools have
charitable hearts for the lifeblood of their existence, so they keep booking some
of these models, who are dependable and often find it hard to get other work to
help pay their bills.
I often speculate that there
are deeper issues beyond the modest paycheck that motivate certain people to
pose nude for artists. Some models seem
extremely shy about their work, while others are just the opposite. I’ve drawn and painted quite a number of
models, male and female, who are very comfortable “in their own skin,” unlike,
I might add, many of the artists who depend on them. Some male models probably take to the posing
stand because they enjoy showing off their muscular physiques. I’ve also drawn models who take on the work
for a few sessions just for the unique experience, including one well-known woman
author, who was an excellent model, as a matter of fact. Whatever the reasons may be, artists who want
to continue the ancient tradition of drawing and painting the “human form
divine” are forever in debt to our models, without whom we would be forced to
copy photographs or concentrate solely on still life and landscape painting.
Today’s artists’ models
usually do this work for only a few years to help pay for their college tuition
or the rent while they pursue their own passion, be it in dance, theater or
some other career. Modeling jobs are
available seven days a week, morning, noon
and night, offering plenty of opportunities for models to continue to audition,
rehearse, perform and attend college classes.
And popular models are able to get quite a bit of private modeling work
from artists who can afford their hourly fees of $20 and up for the many hours
it takes to complete a painting or sculpture from life.
Not many artists’ models view
the work as a lifelong pursuit, but some ex-dancers, under-employed actors and
others take up modeling again later in life as a way to earn extra income.
Things were a bit different for
the profession in former days. Artists’
models were divided into two classes – those who worked at the art schools and
those who worked only privately for successful society and academic artists,
who often shared their favorite models with their fellow artists. The Pre-Raphaelites immediately come to mind. Elizabeth
Eleanor Siddal (1829-1862),
for example, was a red-haired model, poet and artist who was painted and drawn
extensively by the Brotherhood and became something of a celebrity herself, like
a number of other models favored by famous artists throughout history.
In her book titled “Painted
Ladies,” Muriel Segal gives a witty but irreverent account of famous models for
famous artists, beginning with Phryne, the model for many Venuses in 4th
Century B.C. Athens, and ending with Kiki, the once famous “Venus of
Montparnasse,” who died in squalor in 1953 at the age of 51. An interesting first-person account of
modeling for artists appears in “The Naked Civil Servant,” the autobiography of
Quentin Crisp, who worked for three decades as an artist’s model in England
before gaining fame as a writer, actor and raconteur.
One possible explanation for
this caste system in 19th and mid-20th Century England and
France is there were a lot of famous portrait and figurative
painters and sculptors whose lives were considered so interesting that the
newspapers wrote stories about them and, sometimes, the models they favored. The newspapers no longer write about figurative
artists, other than Lucien Freud, who died two years ago at the age of 88.
By the way, we all know that there
is quite a gender gap in this business of modeling for artists. The model as muse is a woman. There are a lot of drawn, painted and sculpted
images of men, but they have patiently flexed their muscles for artists in
relative obscurity, the self-promoting Quentin Crisp notwithstanding. It has been my observation that 99 percent of
the artists who attend the sketch groups, both men and women, prefer drawing
female models. It’s a bit strange,
because the male nude is the centerpiece of many of the Old Master paintings we
all revere. A retired illustrator I knew
would walk out of one sketch room at The Art Students League to try his luck in
another as soon as a male model walked in.
“I never sold a drawing of a male nude,” Sol would explain defensively. His drawings always made me laugh, because whether
the model was fat or thin, she ended up on his sketch pad looking like an amply
proportioned Barbie Doll.
Meredith Frampton, Artist’s Model Marguerite Kelsey, 1928, Tate Modern |
One of the very last of the
red-hot muses was Marguerite Kelsey (1909-1995), who was very much in demand in
London during the 1920s and 1930s. She would be booked months in advance before
the important art shows at the Royal Academy and the Royal Portrait Society. A former dancer, she could apparently hold
her pose for up to four hours at a stretch!
“We’re going to make you tops,” Sargent reportedly said upon first
meeting her, telling his friends at his club later that day, “I’ve just met a
famous model.” She became a celebrity
model due to her “gracious form,” as one artist said.
Kelsey preferred working with older male artists like Frampton and Beeton. “She was a friend and confidante of these older painters, with whom she conducted intense, but platonic relationships,” Ormond wrote in the London newspaper, “The Independent.” But she did eventually marry one of the many artists who painted her. It was well-known that there were numerous liaisons between successful older male artists and their young models in years gone by.
Kelsey was once quoted as saying: “Alan Beeton was my god. I was the only model he ever really used – he painted me for ten years, and educated me at the same time. He taught me how to read and write, took me through the classics, showed me how to use a knife and fork in restaurants. I owe him everything.”
She continued to attract artists as a model in old age, posing for a seated, full length painting by Peter Edwards that won a top prize in 1994 at the National Portrait Gallery competition in London.
The abbreviated information about her modeling career is gleaned from Ormond’s newspaper obituary and a fascinating exhibition catalogue titled, “The Artist’s Model, from Etty to Spencer,” co-written by Martin Postle and William Vaughn, which traces the profession in England from the early 19th Century to the late 1930s.
The late Aviva, a Popular NYC Artist's Model for Many Years |