I remember our first male model in art school who looked really cute when he walked through the door, until he took his clothes off. I remember the old man and old women who modeled nude together and looked beautiful. I remember April who wasn't much older than me. She had a tiny heart tattoo near her breast, I thought it was cool, and then I wanted one too.
I remember avoiding the genitalia of the male models. If it was an all day pose I would move my easel so I could avoid it completely, if we were doing quick sketches croquis as my instructors referred to them, I just made a line or two. In the beginning it was an embarrassing process for me. By my third year I would strike up conversations with the models.
Forcing a person to stare at the human figure in all forms is a sobering experience. When people are stripped of their clothes, many of our assumptions are removed, therefore there is less to judge. When they are speechless before you for hours, you begin to wonder what skin deep really means.
I saw nude people. A lot of nude people. I learned to appreciate the beauty of the human form in all shapes, sizes and colors. I consider it a special gift that came with my art training.
I needed it after being traumatized by my Nana making me take a bath with her when I was six or seven.
Thanks to Art school, I'm no longer traumatized.
