Over the past few weeks, I’ve been attending life drawing sessions at a little gallery in Redfern called Peach Black. The drawings from such sessions are scattered throughout this post. I was first invited by a friend and graphic designer, Shev, who’s been attending the sessions for years. I’m more used to drawing environments quickly to convey information to clients and colleagues in an architectural setting, very rarely doing anything particularly lifelike.
Upon entering for the first time, I was nervous: a group of 20 or so people sat around a low, black-cloth-draped stage, chatting amongst themselves, showing each other the week’s artworks. My nerves silently build as the start time approaches. I wasn’t sure what to really expect, it would be like or how well I would even do. These nerves, however, were quickly put to rest as the model, wrapped in a black robe, appeared in the doorway at the top of the timber stairs across the room.
As she walks down the stairs and across the room to the stage, clapping begins, and slow music begins to play. The life drawing equivalent of getting ready for the starting pistol, and before I knew it… BAM. The robe drops to the floor, a naked woman in front of me gracefully posing, and the soft but furious sound of pencils fills the room. The first few poses only last a minute. No time to think, the pistol sounds, and there is no longer time to think, observation and instinct must guide your hand, giving up control of your thinking.
After a few minutes, something strange happens: the model’s humanity fades. So focused on observing each curve, crease, and angle, your mind shifts, and what lies before you is a human-looking object to be studied.
It’s strange how, over the course of the 2-hour session, you shift between the two states as the model shifts poses and remains still during long 20-minute drawings.
After many drawings, the session comes to an end, heralded by the song ‘Mahna Mahna’, a sigh of relief from all, the model included. The race is over, and you can now look back at the work produced and reflect. Some drawings turned out good, others not and some only came good after some reflection. You come away, and I find myself feeling both mentally tired and inspired, observant and creatively energised, having put in the work and created something that, mere moments ago, didn’t exist.
