northpublik: design above the 44th parallel

Do you remember any of the basic skills you learned in art school [or whatever school you attended for god knows what]? My first year at university was spent struggling to find inspiration on a campus made completely of grey brutalist concrete, whose lone function was the sap the very soul from your being. Cold and dreary, the only days I enjoyed were the quiet weekends in the Fine Arts building, with its giant wall of sloped glass and paint stains from floor to ceiling.

I can remember the classrooms in this building very distinctly: the polished concrete floors marked with scratches from a million grey stools screeching across them; white walls pocked with pushpin holes from semesters of drawings put up for critique. It was in one of these rooms that I attended my first life-drawing class.

We’d always be curious to see who the model would be each week. An overweight 70 year-old with a long grey hair and breasts to match, or a youngish tanned male just looking to make a buck to help further his drinking career in one of the many campus pubs? Either way, the class would calm upon his or her entrance, and within minutes we’d be immersed in only the sound of charcoal or lead scratching on paper, occasionally interrupted by the prof’s instructions to draw blindly, move quickly, don’t pull the tip from the pad.

It was interesting for me to see how my lines would appear. Hurried and messy some days, thoughtful and fine on others. It was nice not to be encumbered by any restraints, other than the most basic of instructions. All our drawings looked different, and there was no right way or wrong way to do it. Just find a comfortable way to create your form and you were good to go.

Long gone are those days when my work wasn’t for a specific purpose, other than the sharpening of basic tools. Now filled with familial and client restraints, it’s rare when I can just do something for myself with no instructions to change this, or remove that. Over the years I’ve lost the tactility of my work. I used to scan anything that would fit on the flatbed glass [including my own body parts], and incorporate layers of texture. I now use only the computer as my both my tool and canvas, and I’ve realized it’s high time to step away from the desk and get some creative air. I need to get back to real sketching.

First stop was a life drawing class held downtown. Having not been in this situation in over 15 years, I wasn’t quite sure what or who to expect.

I entered with my shiny new pad and eraser, and freshly sharpened pencils that I’ve had since school, gathering dust in a drawer all this time. Took note of the attendees, mostly older men that had obviously been coming for a while, with a small smattering of younger student-looking types. We quickly set to work when the model walked in, reminding me of those earlier York U days.

It was an uncomplicated class. Come in, sit down, murmur, draw, leave. No big deal. My first sketches were atrocious. Working with a keyboard and mouse all day, I’d pretty much forgotten how to hold a drawing instrument. But by the end, I was comfortable again and actually pleased with a page or two of sketches. Not bad, but could use some serious honing.

I considered returning the weekly class, but then wondered why I would bother. As easy as it was, it was almost too basic. The model was fine, nothing special [a tad grouchy], and there was certainly a stuffy feeling to the room. The men who have been frequenting the class exchanged their old man quips and the mainstream jazz streaming from the tinny radio was a bit dry for my liking.

My second stop was another life drawing class, also held downtown. This one had more spunk, yet wasn’t that well organized and as a result lost steam halfway through its 3 hour tour. Sadly, nudity is not permitted and this is a big letdown. If the model had a larger repertoire of stimulating poses, it may have made up for these shortcomings, but she did not. And although the audience was more energetic, the restrictions of the class aren’t enough to make me return.

Despite all the misfires, I enjoyed using a pencil again, and infused with the desire to get back to the basics of my craft, I’ve decided to start my own life drawing class. I’m one of those people that often thinks “if you want it done right, do it yourself’” [a blessing and a curse] and this class will fit my style. This class will have an edge that previous classes do not. I’m doing away with the seriousness that so often clouds ‘art education’, and injecting some fun. Gone are the models that walk in with the air of ‘I’m only doing this for the money’, and pose moodily; gone will be the murmurings of older gentlemen with their pipe tobacco scents. All to be replaced with models in tutus and angel wings, corsets and riding crops, army boots and steampunk goggles.

a sample of what to expect from my class

My models will pose with attitude. My models will be more than happy to show off their pink bits and smile about it, partially wrapped in costumes to match. Not content with stopping there, I’m also including models that will be exquisitely tied up shibari-style, by a very talented rigger. For those not familiar with this form of Japanese rope bondage, here are some lovely examples on flickr [you need to sign in to flickr]. Come to the class to see it in the flesh [or rather, on the flesh].

So yes, back to basics I will get, and there’s nothing wrong in having a little fun while I’m at it.

Come join the fun, every Tuesday night, starting in May. All info is set up on a temporary blog [proper site in the works]. PLEASE NOW VISIT THEKEYHOLESESSIONS.COM For $12, it’s a great way to spend a fun night. And you may even learn something. [this class is not for the easily offended]

photo creds: sketches, northpublik; tied girlie, altered aperture