Confessions of a Life Model Part 1

I’ve often thought about writing a book about the experience of being a life model, how I got started in the industry and what I’ve learned in my 20-year career. But there is too much to say. It’s already been well documented on sites like Life Model Society on life drawing etiquette with a never ending list of “don’ts” such as “don’t photograph the model”, “don’t touch the model”, “don’t comment on the model’s appearance” and so on. It’s an important list that any artist, host and studio needs to be mindful of.

Since that topic has already been well covered, I want to explore some of the more intricate and delicate parts of modelling. Thinking about a question I often get asked, and that would be interesting to answer here is:

What do you think when you see yourself in paintings?

With shows like Portrait Artist of the Year soon making its mark on ABC iView, with lots celebrity sitters gasping and crying at their portrait reveals, I would say, that as a model who has sat through hundreds of hours of portrait sittings, the experience for me is a lot less emotional and much more practical. The thing that interests me the most is: did the artist have a good time creating this portrait?

It’s an important question for me to answer because as a model I am anxious to please the crowd and ensure that my poses are inspiring and challenging, but not too challenging to draw.

I have turned up to gigs wearing full costume (on request) only to then have artists complain that they “don’t like the costume”, which has left me in tears. My time, energy and work has been completely disrespected and wasted. So now, when I am asked to do costume, I make 100% sure that the host and artists really understand what they want and that the set up is enjoyable and relaxed for both myself and the artists.

When I see myself in portraits, it makes me happy if the painting indicates the artist was really invested in their artwork.

I don’t care to what degree, if at all, if the art “looks like me”, or if I look too languid / poised / muscular / curvaceous / intelligent / intense. I am of menopausal age and have deep corrugators. I am happy to see an honest, ruthless account of the dark thoughts that have shaped my life rather a romanticised Dorian Gray version.

Of course, I could just ask the artist if they enjoyed the process of painting me, but like a photograph, a painting never lies.

It’s marvellous to focus on the exterior on what a model presents, trying to get a likeness or accuracy, but it’s also exciting and confronting to be seen when someone has captured my life experience.