I was a nude model

Inspiration comes in many forms. One of those is naked.

It began after I saw a nude charcoal drawing of a friend of mine. She told me she had modeled at the Carrboro ArtsCenter earlier that week, and one of the artists gave her the drawing after the session.

She had made $30 for two hours of modeling and suggested I sign up to model as well.

I thought it sounded interesting, but not up my alley.

Later in the semester, after running out of money, I reconsidered my friend’s offer.

I knew it took an amount of confidence to do this kind of work, but then again, I considered how easy it would be. The only requirements are to stay still and be silent.

But before modeling, I made the mistake of talking to friends about it. I heard horror stories about surprise boners and awkward laughter, and suddenly I was nervous.

But I still walked into the ArtsCenter last May wearing nothing but jeans and a T-shirt.

After looking around the room, my nerves waned when I saw the artists. I realized that I not only knew none of the artists, but they were all middle-aged or older.

Two male artists were having a conversation about how they preferred the female form.

“Their curves are much more beautiful than a man’s,” one said.

They had not seen me enter and looked disappointed once they saw me.

The two-hour session was broken down into segments of standing, sitting and eventually lying.

It began well. But I was soon surprised at how fast my limbs went numb.

The experience was peaceful, my mind was given the rare opportunity to contemplate in silence.

However, after the first hour the challenge turned out to be staying awake. To conquer this, the hum of music lyrics flooded my head.

“I’m blue, if I was green I would die, da ba dee da ba dye,” I sang.

After the session was over, one of the artists continued to finish up his drawing. I took a look and thought it was great.

My charcoal body stretched beautifully across the large pieces of paper. The artist offered me the drawing and I decided to keep it.

That weekend, I went home to visit my family. When I saw my mom, she asked what I brought her for Mother’s Day.

Having forgotten about the holiday entirely, I looked in my backpack for something to give her. I found the drawing and handed it to her.

All she could say was, “Oh Abe ... You really shouldn’t have.”

 

Contact the Arts Editorat artsdesk@unc.edu.