Places You'll Go - Day 2

Up bright and early Saturday morning, I was loaded down with gear and out the door by 9 for an all day  modeling assignment at a San Gabriel studio. The morning session was easy. Short poses over 3 hours. The studio owner brought me a tasty bahn mi for lunch and I was able to stretch and relax for an hour. The afternoon session was a four hour pose for a painting workshop.

People are often curious about the life of an artist's model, which is understandable. The bummer is that they're always curious about the nudity part and rarely curious about anything else.

Here's an edited and condensed version of a conversation I have at least once a week:

"What kind of work you do?"

"It varies. I perform in theater pieces. I'm a musician. I teach. I'm an artist's model. And I write a bit."

"An artist's model?"

"Yes."

"So - like ... you have to be naked?"

"Usually."

"Huh. And you don't get embarrassed?"

"No."

"Your boyfriend doesn't get jealous?"

"No."

"You don't feel exploited?"

"I am exploited. And so are you."

And that's pretty much word for word how it goes. Every time. I try not to let it bug me. I don't always succeed. My job requires me to be nude in front of people. Obviously, if I had a problem with that I'd do one of the bajillion other jobs that don't require you to be naked. So when someone I've just met asks me if my job embarrasses me, it's hard to know how to take that. They're basically asking if I feel shame on a daily basis and I find that question condescending to say the least. No one ever asks a surgeon if they get grossed out by all the blood and guts they see at work. Because that's a stupid question.

But I've digressed. Oops. I have grown accustomed to peoples' prurient interest in the most sensational aspect of my job, to their amnesia regarding the highly-respected and centuries old tradition of nudes in art, to their unprompted concern for my personal dignity (as if it would be LESS exploitive to leave flyers on cars for minimum wage or make collections calls for a major credit card company or sit around a big desk with a bunch of fat guys brainstorming new ways to screw people out of insurance benefits they've paid for and are depending on. As if our entire economy were constructed on something other than institutionalized exploitation.) Sigh. But I mostly get miffed because I really love my work and I never get to talk about that. Nobody understands the extraordinary demands of art modeling or the euphoric pride I feel upon completing a 4 hour pose. It's like a marathon except you have to sit still instead of run. Most people have never sat still for longer than 10 minutes in their life so they have no idea. It's really hard on your body. Your muscles lock up and your circulation slows and sometimes you get bruises from resting your arm on an armrest. And you have to strive to maintain the emotional state you had at the beginning of the pose, even as your body goes on this journey of endurance. Plus, in stillness come thoughts. Often the very thoughts you've been avoiding take this opportunity to rush at you, demanding recognition. And as you ponder the deepest questions of your life, with the mother of all cramps in your lumbar, you have to keep your face arranged in the same placid lines you started with. Because people are counting on you. Artists, civilization - they need you. While in a pose, you are a bridge connecting the past to the future - allowing the people in the room to access the traditions of the masters and helping them to usher in their own personal renaissance.

And every once in a while, someone will gift you with the painting they've done of you. And you get to keep this tangible memento of you on this day, in this extended moment. This testament to your humanity. This labor of someone's love and talent. And as you take it from their hands, wondering how to get it home without smudging it, you know that someday you will be old. And then you will be dead. And this painting will only be a little bit dusty.

I've rambled. So you'll have to wait for the next installment to read about my evening's adventure.