Life modelling, to me, is a kind of meditative practice. People often ask me what I think about when I’m life modelling and it really depends; sometimes I use it as an incubator for creative ideas, occasionally I’m lost in memory or fantasy, but the majority of the time I’m simply being.
I focus on the breath and any sensations in the body, allowing thoughts to arise and dissipate without attaching to them. I’m usually chapters deep in a mental story before I even realise I’m reading a book, but grounding back into experience - the breath, the five senses - rather than narrative is a gift I carry with me outside the drawing room, even if only for a few precious moments throughout the day.
There are some sessions where I merge seamlessly with the great abyss, feeling no separation between myself and the sound of pencils on cartridge paper, whilst others are highly mind-identified; cauldron brain simmering fears, insecurities and aversion to discomfort. In the container of a pose I’m invited to sit with whatever toil or trouble bubbles up. To just observe and be with it, whatever “it” is.
The human mind has a strong propensity for categorisation, and the ways that people might title the resultant works - “10 minute figure sketch” “Cecily” “young woman in reclined posture” “girl with hair in buns” - all go a long way in describing the images, but beyond those descriptions, the simplest and most accurate would be “a human being”
A human. Being.