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…