Thursday, April 24, 2014

community moment: nude figure drawing class

My upperclassmen art class peers are anything but enthusiastic - except for when it comes to this nude figure drawing class.  At least once a week, they act as lobbyists for attending this five-dollar, Wednesday night class in the middle of the city.  "Gonna come?  Gonna come?" we hear from their twisted smiles.  At first it was absurd.  What was so great about this little out-of-our-way weekly event?
Spring break offered us our chance to attend, though.  While my friends and I were at the mall, we ran in to a girl who soon urged us, once more, to come.  It was Wednesday.  We were together.  We would try to go.


First, let me emphasize how miraculous it was that we found the place, which was located in the attic of an old church.  We climbed four flights of stony stairs to get to the home of the legendary figure drawing class, but also the literal home of the man who runs it.


It was small and warm, but most of all I remember the soft classical music that floated through the air without a source.  I still have no idea where those speakers were.  Cookies were prominently displayed before the door to THIS room:


Even smaller than the seating area was the space in which a 20-something model posed for 30-something people, drawing elbow-to-elbow.  It was quiet, and at this point the air felt heavy and sleepy.  
I must discuss my emotions: while settling into a small chair and accepting the oddness that is staring at a naked body among many strangers, I clicked into a state of eternal safeness.  I felt safe.  I felt that I would be safe FOREVER.  I felt good.  To add to this, my buddy next to me is not a drawer.  She doesn't do it often, but came anyway, and told me it was an equally amazing experience.  

Drawing, for anyone, was an act of meditation, in this environment.

So here's what I drew:


 
She had a huge hickey on her collarbone.

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