Naked Truth
You may want to avert your eyes from this entry because it contains full-frontal male nudity. You’ve been warned!
In late November of last year I went to an art fair at The LGBT Center in Greenwich Village and met an artist name Branden Charles Wallace. I liked his work and I guess he liked the cut of my jib, and we negotiated terms regarding my posing for him and then, for two months, we played phone tag. Eventually we made contact and set the time and date for our first session and flinging caution, and my duds, to the winds the deed is almost a done deal. Branden works in oil on linen canvas and I posed in three sessions, two hours each, three Thursday afternoons in a row and it is this experience I hereby chronicle. If you haven’t already done so, now might be the time to avert your eyes.
People who know me are (probably distressingly) aware that I’m no stranger to public nudity; being an aficionado of au naturel beaches and clothing-optional resorts in Key West, Palm Springs and elsewhere. I am not shy (is that the same thing as having no shame?) nor do I give a hoot about what other people might think about my particular physical attributes, or lack thereof. So posing for Branden was no big deal…all I needed was a glass of water and a thermostat set on “comfortable.”
His studio is exactly what I wanted it to be. It’s cluttered and “arty.” There are various canvases (blank or in various stages of completion) leaning here and there and walls covered with artwork, his own and by others, with every flat surface and windowsill holding all kinds of interesting stuff to look at. It was the right atmosphere for the adventure/experience at hand.
Branden works differently than what I had expected. That is, he doesn’t really face his subject but turns sideways from his easel (he’s a lefty), which means the model can watch the work-in-process. What was more than surreal to me was that he seemed to be waving his brush in the air, not even touching the surface of the canvas, and yet a ghost of a person started to take shape before my eyes. My first idea of a comparison was like the early days of the Polaroid camera where, after the photo was taken, you had to wait for the image to appear. This time the image came from the end of a long-handled paintbrush and, as I watched, a figure started to coalesce. And that figure was me! I can’t think of any other word but “surreal” to describe it.
Oddly enough, as we went along and despite the loss of feeling in various parts of my body (you think it’s easy to sit still for two hours at a time?), it became more and more a nice, quiet carnival ride with a great view of other people working, and in 3-D. I think Branden understood what was going on with me and, in the painting, he has come close to catching my mood in both facial expression and body language. He was the perfect starter-kit for my future success as a nude model, even though I’m pretty sure this is a one-shot deal.
Branden is not chopped liver in the art world although he’s only 37, the darling. What is impressive is that he loves the work. He loves painting. I mean, you can tell he just has himself over the magic he can perform and he is an enthusiastic show-off, which was lovely to witness. For the six hours I was with him we talked a lot and our mutual appreciation of what we think is good art and what isn’t coincides fairly well, so it’s no wonder I admire his taste. Having me model might be a new low for him but, hey, the painting is small and everybody has their career glitches. You can check out his website at http://www.brandenwallace.com/ and he has a blog that makes me wonder if he realizes he might be exposing a tad more about himself than he intended (www.passengersseat.blogspot.com); check out the self-portrait with his mom!
FYI: the painting is still a work-in-progress and is not finished; just my participation in it is (unless Branden drops it down his stairwell, by accident of course). The background needs to be filled in and he has a couple of ideas for that and I’m anxious to see one of them come to fruition. Anyway, my job is done and what becomes of the final work of art is moot. For me it was the ride that counted and I have to thank Mr. Wallace for furnishing the carousel; and even though my particular horse was stationary, my mind gave it flight.
Update May 10, 2010: The painting is finished and is now in my possession. I have it propped up next to my computer and I think it's just amazing; both as a work of art and that I actually went through with it. My mind is again abuzz with a mixture of surprise at myself which includes, yes, a bit of an ego boost (and perhaps a tad of missplaced pride) but also I must confess I'm slightly bewitched by the possible consequences of my own audacity. But this painting is going to last a whole lot longer than I will and in a hundred years who cares? Branden gets the credit; I'm just the joker who posed, which is perfectly all right with me!
In late November of last year I went to an art fair at The LGBT Center in Greenwich Village and met an artist name Branden Charles Wallace. I liked his work and I guess he liked the cut of my jib, and we negotiated terms regarding my posing for him and then, for two months, we played phone tag. Eventually we made contact and set the time and date for our first session and flinging caution, and my duds, to the winds the deed is almost a done deal. Branden works in oil on linen canvas and I posed in three sessions, two hours each, three Thursday afternoons in a row and it is this experience I hereby chronicle. If you haven’t already done so, now might be the time to avert your eyes.
People who know me are (probably distressingly) aware that I’m no stranger to public nudity; being an aficionado of au naturel beaches and clothing-optional resorts in Key West, Palm Springs and elsewhere. I am not shy (is that the same thing as having no shame?) nor do I give a hoot about what other people might think about my particular physical attributes, or lack thereof. So posing for Branden was no big deal…all I needed was a glass of water and a thermostat set on “comfortable.”His studio is exactly what I wanted it to be. It’s cluttered and “arty.” There are various canvases (blank or in various stages of completion) leaning here and there and walls covered with artwork, his own and by others, with every flat surface and windowsill holding all kinds of interesting stuff to look at. It was the right atmosphere for the adventure/experience at hand.
Branden works differently than what I had expected. That is, he doesn’t really face his subject but turns sideways from his easel (he’s a lefty), which means the model can watch the work-in-process. What was more than surreal to me was that he seemed to be waving his brush in the air, not even touching the surface of the canvas, and yet a ghost of a person started to take shape before my eyes. My first idea of a comparison was like the early days of the Polaroid camera where, after the photo was taken, you had to wait for the image to appear. This time the image came from the end of a long-handled paintbrush and, as I watched, a figure started to coalesce. And that figure was me! I can’t think of any other word but “surreal” to describe it.
Oddly enough, as we went along and despite the loss of feeling in various parts of my body (you think it’s easy to sit still for two hours at a time?), it became more and more a nice, quiet carnival ride with a great view of other people working, and in 3-D. I think Branden understood what was going on with me and, in the painting, he has come close to catching my mood in both facial expression and body language. He was the perfect starter-kit for my future success as a nude model, even though I’m pretty sure this is a one-shot deal.
Branden is not chopped liver in the art world although he’s only 37, the darling. What is impressive is that he loves the work. He loves painting. I mean, you can tell he just has himself over the magic he can perform and he is an enthusiastic show-off, which was lovely to witness. For the six hours I was with him we talked a lot and our mutual appreciation of what we think is good art and what isn’t coincides fairly well, so it’s no wonder I admire his taste. Having me model might be a new low for him but, hey, the painting is small and everybody has their career glitches. You can check out his website at http://www.brandenwallace.com/ and he has a blog that makes me wonder if he realizes he might be exposing a tad more about himself than he intended (www.passengersseat.blogspot.com); check out the self-portrait with his mom!
FYI: the painting is still a work-in-progress and is not finished; just my participation in it is (unless Branden drops it down his stairwell, by accident of course). The background needs to be filled in and he has a couple of ideas for that and I’m anxious to see one of them come to fruition. Anyway, my job is done and what becomes of the final work of art is moot. For me it was the ride that counted and I have to thank Mr. Wallace for furnishing the carousel; and even though my particular horse was stationary, my mind gave it flight.
Update May 10, 2010: The painting is finished and is now in my possession. I have it propped up next to my computer and I think it's just amazing; both as a work of art and that I actually went through with it. My mind is again abuzz with a mixture of surprise at myself which includes, yes, a bit of an ego boost (and perhaps a tad of missplaced pride) but also I must confess I'm slightly bewitched by the possible consequences of my own audacity. But this painting is going to last a whole lot longer than I will and in a hundred years who cares? Branden gets the credit; I'm just the joker who posed, which is perfectly all right with me!
posted by peebstuff | Thursday, March 04, 2010
2 Comments:
I guess bowling finally felt too pedestrian.
The only thing more pedestrian than bowling is jaywalking.
Post a Comment
<< Home