I was a half hour late for duty and could feel the sting of those disapproving eyes, the nasty thoughts darting through her mind towards my weak excuses. “I’m really sorry for being late. I—traffic was bad and I---“
“No time for explaining. Do you see all these people already? Get to work.”
And that’s what I did. I had signed up to work the beverage table at the Vagina Monologues event for the Studo@620. The event was scheduled to start at 7pm but by 6:30 there were people there already crowding around the beverages, getting their fill on a Friday night.
For my internship, I must work a number of hours with the studio. I have scheduled myself to work the beverage table for several events because I thought it would be cool to not only possibly get tips, but maybe partake a little while being entertained by an event I didn’t have to pay for. Me, me, me, right?
Wrong. There were no tips (all monetary donations go to the Studio) and I really did have to work this particular evening. I had a particularly uneventful Sunday of volunteer time working the beverage table a couple of weeks before. The event was a grudgingly loooooonnnnnnggg play, appropriately named The Long Day’s Journey Into Night, at which I did partake, and by the time it was “night” in the play (FOUR HOURS later, mind you), I had been about 4 glasses of Shiraz deep. Hardly any of the guests came to get drinks from the table. And she, the her from above, Winnie Howell, was by my side then, drinking wine with me and Stephanie, one of the other interns, making fun of how dry and depressing the play was. That night I felt that Winnie and I were best friends.
I didn’t feel that same warmth from her initially at the Vagina Monologues event. Winnie was all about work and no play. I apparently was moving too slow for her liking and had to endure her constant groans and sighs when it seemed I wasn’t pouring the wine or giving customers change quickly enough. “Move faster” she kept saying, and wouldn’t remove herself from her perch on my shoulder. “You were late, and all these people were here, so I had to take over.” Rub it in, rub it in.
So who is Winnie Howell? Winnie coordinates most of the volunteer positions in the Studo@620. She’s a busy woman. She manages the beverage and food tables, the admissions desk, parking attendants, membership information for the studio, and donations made to the studio. She even makes most of the desserts and gourmet dips. Winnie is the go-to person if you are an intern or volunteer. She’ll put you on her magical online spreadsheet so you can see when you are scheduled to work. She’ll schedule you to work alone at a task if she trusts you to fulfill the duty efficiently.
Before I even worked with Winnie, I heard how particular she was with most things. “Winnie is strict.” “Get on her good side.” “She’s tough to please.” “She’s really organized—don’t mess with her.” Lots of warnings made me very wary and a bit nervous when I first met her. I used my best professional voice and addressed her as Ms. Howell and shook her hand. I used complete sentences and proper grammar when I emailed her. She’s not a very emotional person, so she gave me mostly stern, indifferent looks as I almost bent over backwards to please her. Grovel, grovel, grovel.
But then, I discovered Winnie likes wine.
I had to step up my game a bit at the Vagina Monologues event. “She’s being so mean to me,” said Stephanie , who was assigned to be a greeter for the event. I was surprised because I thought Stephanie had already been on the untouchable, good side of Winnie. But then I felt better knowing that Winnie wasn’t sighing and groaning only at me. Winnie was obviously stressed at this event. People arrived way earlier than planned and I hadn’t shown up early enough to man the bar, so she had to work the bar in my place. I don’t know why she was giving Stephanie hell, but I know this was all aggravated by the fact that Winnie didn’t feel too fondly about women talking about their vaginas. “It doesn’t float my boat.”
So I learned quickly how to manage the bar, and by the time the event started, people stopped hounding the beverage table. Winnie got off my shoulder and had her first glass of Pinot Noir.
I joined her with the wine. I enjoyed the show, but enjoyed conversation with Winnie even more. Her stern, mean , “old lady look” transformed into a friendly Golden Girls smile. She told me her story about how she and her family came to St. Petersburg a few decades ago from a farm in Syracuse, New York. She told me how she loves it here in the sunshine and convinced an older family member to come down to Florida after spending an entire life not ever leaving Syracuse. “It was her first time on a plane.” As I poured her another glass of Pinot, Winnie told me about her son, Jim, and how his partnership with Bob Devin Jones brought her to work at the studio. We clinked glasses at a joke I can’t recall, and then I told her my life story. BEST FRIENDS!
The next time I came to the studio, I worked admissions at the City of Writers launch party. Winnie was very friendly, and I even overheard her saying about me, “she’s a fast learner, I could probably stick her in the bar to train someone.” Yay!
Really, it wasn’t all wine that got me on the good side of Winnie. I think she really needed to see me work and get to know me before warming up. To please Winnie, first of all, be on time. I think she was bothered by that initially. Second, work quickly and pay attention! None of the tasks I have been assigned have been rocket science, but there’s a certain flow and awareness of what’s going on that will help to keep things going fluidly. And third, learn how to charm.
So, if Winnie is THE MAN in this situation, I must learn about all of what it takes to please THE MAN, and I must also remember that THE MAN’s favorite wine is Pinot Noir.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Naked Truths about Nude Modeling
“I know what it’s like to be on both sides of the easel,” I often say to people I model for, emphasizing the fact that I am an artist as well as a model. I have been a part time fine arts model for about three years now. There is much to say about the career, its stipulations, and the controversial connections people often make with it.
My first experience as a model for an art class was at the University of South Florida (USF) in Tampa. I was a budding art student and thought it would be interesting to also sit for some classes as a part time job. I knew that the job would require nudity, but I thought it was like diving into a pool of water from a high place; I would just do it without thought or fear of the unknown. But was I ready?
I sat for a beginning drawing class that hadn’t progressed enough to draw a figure in the nude, so the instructor just wanted her students to get started by drawing someone in clothes. I wore jeans and a t-shirt. I thought it was an easy task; at the time I was relieved to find out that I didn’t have to be in the nude this first time. The next class, however, required me to be nude. I chickened out and didn’t come back. I had gotten to know some of the art professors and students and didn’t want to be ‘that girl who everyone saw naked,’ especially since I would be taking art classes in that department.
So I modeled for a few fashion photographers with clothes and makeup, instead, for a while. It wasn’t until I got really deep into understanding myself as an artist, and the importance of the nude model in learning how to render the human figure, that I began considering nude figure modeling again.
My first nude modeling experience was for the University of Tampa. I modeled for a Beginning Figure Drawing class in a large, dusty studio on a platform in the middle of the room. There were bright spotlights pointed at me, and I was surrounded by eager first-year art majors and students taking art as an elective, with their charcoal, drawing boards, and newsprint. The class followed the same procedures for a figure drawing class I had been used to from being a student: the model starts out with a few gesture poses (usually 30 seconds to 2 minutes of dynamic standing poses I wouldn’t be able to hold for any longer than the time prescribed), the 5 and 10 minute poses (a bit more relaxed but usually standing), and then 20-30 minute poses (usually seated or standing on two feet). The gestures and the 5-10 minute poses are designed as a ‘warm-up’ for the students, causing them to make decisions quickly as they try to render the figure in such a short time. The longer poses give the students the time to refine the decisions they would normally make during the short poses, and to create a more finished drawing.
Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t being naked in front of the crowd that made me nervous the first time. Holding still for a long period of time was the most difficult of it all (God forbid I’d get an itch!), and the hot, bright lights made me sweaty. I was mostly nervous, then, about my looking like a frantic, nervous, sweaty wreck in front of everyone.
What got me through this first, trying, time was me telling myself that no one really is paying attention to me as a person when they are drawing me. No one is really focused on the fact that I was naked, even. I remember drawing nude models and being so concentrated on depicting the figure that I didn’t really care about whether the model was attractive, thin, or fat. There was a 70 or 80 year-old man who posed for a few of my drawing classes at USF. He was not your usual “Adonis.” Though a bag of bones and drooping skin, he was great subject matter. I created wonderful charcoal studies of his face and his bony torso, which created the most interesting contrasts when put under a dramatic light.
I was subject matter, then; a three-dimensional entity of forms, shapes, and shadows the students were trying to depict on a two-dimensional piece of paper. This--this thought of me as subject matter-- is what kept me sane in those moments of eternity that I spent standing naked in front of this particular art class.
I have been a figure model since. Many of the experiences are the same as I just described; I often pose nude for figure drawing classes in universities or for figure drawing sessions outside of the universities, in art studios or centers. I have also modeled for portrait groups where the focus is usually on my face or on a costume I’m wearing. I have modeled freelance for accomplished artists in their studios as well.
What is interesting is talking about nude modeling to people not associated with the practice. I think there are many prejudices that come with the notion of nude modeling. One obvious one is the association with pornography. “You let strangers look at you while you’re naked?”—a question I’ve gotten from one of my concerned friends. “Yeah, and I pose on all fours with my ass up or on my back with my legs spread wide open so everyone can see the goods” is what I sarcastically responded with. I can’t blame my friend for not being open-minded about the career. People usually have reservations about being naked in front of others, especially a crowd. You’re either a porn star or a stripper, and the associations with both professions are not always positive.
If an artist needs to know how to draw vases, he or she should practice drawing all different types of vases to get better at it. Thus, if an artist needs to learn how to draw the human form better, he or she needs to practice drawing all types of human forms. And the best way to see a human form is without clothes.
So why did I chicken out at first? Well, I can say that I had the same connotations about being naked in front of people, about exposing the personal, the possibly imperfect--the side of me that I wouldn’t openly show to my grandmother. I had fears of people rejecting my image as an art form because I felt I didn’t have “perfect” breasts or “zero percent” body fat. “What if they lose their artistic inspiration?” It was all fear of the unknown, a taboo.
I take modeling seriously. I show up with my robe, my slippers, a sheet, and a timer. Sometimes I’ll wear make-up if I know the artists are going to take their time to render my image. Sometimes, upon request, I will wear a costume. I try my best to create the best situation for inspiration. To me, it is an art form in itself. I think of myself as a muse, my own brand of Mona Lisa.
I realize the constant need for models among artists. Artists are, of course, known to be creative, but they often need subject matter. I attend many of the local figure drawing group meetings both as a model and a practicing artist. I am an intern at a place called Studio @620 in St. Petersburg, Florida, and would like to incorporate my knowledge of figure modeling as an art form into planning an event that would bring together figure modeling, visual art and theatrics. More details to come…
My first experience as a model for an art class was at the University of South Florida (USF) in Tampa. I was a budding art student and thought it would be interesting to also sit for some classes as a part time job. I knew that the job would require nudity, but I thought it was like diving into a pool of water from a high place; I would just do it without thought or fear of the unknown. But was I ready?
I sat for a beginning drawing class that hadn’t progressed enough to draw a figure in the nude, so the instructor just wanted her students to get started by drawing someone in clothes. I wore jeans and a t-shirt. I thought it was an easy task; at the time I was relieved to find out that I didn’t have to be in the nude this first time. The next class, however, required me to be nude. I chickened out and didn’t come back. I had gotten to know some of the art professors and students and didn’t want to be ‘that girl who everyone saw naked,’ especially since I would be taking art classes in that department.
So I modeled for a few fashion photographers with clothes and makeup, instead, for a while. It wasn’t until I got really deep into understanding myself as an artist, and the importance of the nude model in learning how to render the human figure, that I began considering nude figure modeling again.
My first nude modeling experience was for the University of Tampa. I modeled for a Beginning Figure Drawing class in a large, dusty studio on a platform in the middle of the room. There were bright spotlights pointed at me, and I was surrounded by eager first-year art majors and students taking art as an elective, with their charcoal, drawing boards, and newsprint. The class followed the same procedures for a figure drawing class I had been used to from being a student: the model starts out with a few gesture poses (usually 30 seconds to 2 minutes of dynamic standing poses I wouldn’t be able to hold for any longer than the time prescribed), the 5 and 10 minute poses (a bit more relaxed but usually standing), and then 20-30 minute poses (usually seated or standing on two feet). The gestures and the 5-10 minute poses are designed as a ‘warm-up’ for the students, causing them to make decisions quickly as they try to render the figure in such a short time. The longer poses give the students the time to refine the decisions they would normally make during the short poses, and to create a more finished drawing.
Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t being naked in front of the crowd that made me nervous the first time. Holding still for a long period of time was the most difficult of it all (God forbid I’d get an itch!), and the hot, bright lights made me sweaty. I was mostly nervous, then, about my looking like a frantic, nervous, sweaty wreck in front of everyone.
What got me through this first, trying, time was me telling myself that no one really is paying attention to me as a person when they are drawing me. No one is really focused on the fact that I was naked, even. I remember drawing nude models and being so concentrated on depicting the figure that I didn’t really care about whether the model was attractive, thin, or fat. There was a 70 or 80 year-old man who posed for a few of my drawing classes at USF. He was not your usual “Adonis.” Though a bag of bones and drooping skin, he was great subject matter. I created wonderful charcoal studies of his face and his bony torso, which created the most interesting contrasts when put under a dramatic light.
I was subject matter, then; a three-dimensional entity of forms, shapes, and shadows the students were trying to depict on a two-dimensional piece of paper. This--this thought of me as subject matter-- is what kept me sane in those moments of eternity that I spent standing naked in front of this particular art class.
I have been a figure model since. Many of the experiences are the same as I just described; I often pose nude for figure drawing classes in universities or for figure drawing sessions outside of the universities, in art studios or centers. I have also modeled for portrait groups where the focus is usually on my face or on a costume I’m wearing. I have modeled freelance for accomplished artists in their studios as well.
What is interesting is talking about nude modeling to people not associated with the practice. I think there are many prejudices that come with the notion of nude modeling. One obvious one is the association with pornography. “You let strangers look at you while you’re naked?”—a question I’ve gotten from one of my concerned friends. “Yeah, and I pose on all fours with my ass up or on my back with my legs spread wide open so everyone can see the goods” is what I sarcastically responded with. I can’t blame my friend for not being open-minded about the career. People usually have reservations about being naked in front of others, especially a crowd. You’re either a porn star or a stripper, and the associations with both professions are not always positive.
If an artist needs to know how to draw vases, he or she should practice drawing all different types of vases to get better at it. Thus, if an artist needs to learn how to draw the human form better, he or she needs to practice drawing all types of human forms. And the best way to see a human form is without clothes.
So why did I chicken out at first? Well, I can say that I had the same connotations about being naked in front of people, about exposing the personal, the possibly imperfect--the side of me that I wouldn’t openly show to my grandmother. I had fears of people rejecting my image as an art form because I felt I didn’t have “perfect” breasts or “zero percent” body fat. “What if they lose their artistic inspiration?” It was all fear of the unknown, a taboo.
I take modeling seriously. I show up with my robe, my slippers, a sheet, and a timer. Sometimes I’ll wear make-up if I know the artists are going to take their time to render my image. Sometimes, upon request, I will wear a costume. I try my best to create the best situation for inspiration. To me, it is an art form in itself. I think of myself as a muse, my own brand of Mona Lisa.
I realize the constant need for models among artists. Artists are, of course, known to be creative, but they often need subject matter. I attend many of the local figure drawing group meetings both as a model and a practicing artist. I am an intern at a place called Studio @620 in St. Petersburg, Florida, and would like to incorporate my knowledge of figure modeling as an art form into planning an event that would bring together figure modeling, visual art and theatrics. More details to come…
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