The following is an article I wrote nearly a year ago and posted on a personal journal online. It's something I link every time someone asks me about my experience in this job most people can't quite imagine, so I thought it would be worth reposting here.
Since the time this was written, I have learned that's it's possible to sprain an ankle by letting your leg fall very hard asleep and then trying to stand up immediately once you do move. Who knew there was such a thing as an art modeling injury? Yet despite that, I still dearly love my job.
Last March, I read an article about ways to make extra money, and something stuck out to me. Namely, I spent part of my undergraduate career as a fine arts minor, and suddenly wasn't sure why it had never occurred to me to be in those classes on the other side - and I immediately sent emails to every local gallery I could find with classes that might need a model. Since then, I've gone from doing that maybe once a month to reliably at least two times a week.
So after a year has passed, I think it's time for me to share with you all about the mostly glamorous, sometimes painful, and often bizarre experience of being a nude art model.
I feel like the most common reaction I get to saying I do this job is "I don't think I could ever do that." Sometimes from self-consciousness, and sometimes from a tendency to fidget. It's a little funny because while I am nowhere near shy and the first part there isn't really a problem, I actually have the latter in spades. At any given moment normally I'll be moving in some way or another. Playing with something in my hands, bouncing my legs, whatever. I'm still not sure why that doesn't apply when I'm modeling, other than the poses are usually odd enough that they require some focus to keep, and maybe it's just enough of a challenge that the mostly unconscious idle motions can drop away. For the past two sessions of one class, I've been doing portrait work - clothed, sitting normally, facing forward, and the only thing that really matters is that I stay looking in the same direction because everyone's only studying my face. And I just have to say... Doing that without either fidgeting or falling asleep is hard. It's the first time since I started that I've had to remind myself not to let my legs bounce.
The more typical experience, the full body, more complex, nude poses are what I've been doing most of the time, and I feel like I've learned a lot from that. Doing this work gives you a certain kind of self-awareness and confidence; after months of trying new poses, I have a generally very good concept of exactly how my body can move, and what I can hold for 30 seconds versus five minutes versus half an hour. I know how to stretch and self-massage effectively because when it comes down to it, you have five minutes to remove that knot from your shoulder before you have to get back into the same position that put it there in the first place. Through trial and error, I've learned a lot of things the hard way. I've learned that shifting some part of a pose by one inch can be the difference between being comfortable for 20 minutes or more and struggling after 10 and then leaving the class with a limp. I know now that there are specific ways I can stand that aren't generally uncomfortable but for some reason will make my leg shake uncontrollably. I've discovered that if you stare at the exact same point on the wall nonstop, you will basically lose your ability to see anything by the time fifteen minutes are up. I've experienced getting hypoglycemic in the middle of a simple pose, and only getting through the last ten minutes out of sheer bullheaded determination. I've also learned how to avoid any of those situations happening again.
But if there is one thing that's universally true of people who employ art models, it's that they want their models to be comfortable. One thing I've had to make myself accept is that it's fine to make changes. If you get through 20 minutes and realise your hand fell asleep, only hold that pose for 15 minutes the next time. If you notice the pose is hurting your back, modify it to where it isn't causing pain. If you're getting really cold but still have 15 minutes left on the clock, call over the teacher and have him mess with the space heater until it's warm enough. The people in charge will work with you. It's okay to be a little bit of a diva sometimes; as one hiring manager said to me, the model is the star of the show, and the class can't happen without you. The show must go on. You can't call a day off at the last second, but neither can your employer let you suffer.
And that brings me to something I really love about this kind of work. Most jobs these days would be considered thankless. You might get recognition on occasion if you did something outstanding, but usually it's a lack of criticism that tells you you're doing okay. My job isn't like that. As a model, I hear "thank you" from someone practically every time I work. I get people who are genuinely interested in me as a person, wonder how I got into modeling, what it's like, what I think about during all that time sitting still, and, once they've heard I started out as a student myself, whether I'll come back to their studio sometime as an artist. I hear heartfelt compliments from people who are impressed because they're sure they wouldn't be able to sit still, or because they like the aesthetic sense I put into coming up with interesting poses, or who are surprised to hear that I haven't been doing this longer than I have.
And, contrary to the worries I've heard expressed by a lot of people, it really doesn't matter how you look. This is one of very few environments where a naked body is in no way sexualized, and no one cares in the slightest what size clothes you wear or how wide your waist is. In fact, they'll probably be happier if you don't look like a fashion model, because when you're practicing drawing and painting, variety in subjects is a good thing. I'm not inclined to worry much about my looks to begin with, but I can safely say I've never felt judged, and I've usually felt appreciated. The students are there to draw what's in front of them, which happens to be me, and they're going to see me in a way that's artistic and beautiful. Some people are more skilled than others, and different people emphasize different things, but fundamentally if I walk around the room on a break and peek at what everyone's doing, what I see is art. It's a uniquely powerful thing to see myself through the many different lenses that artists bring into the room. Most of the time, I can't help running around with my phone's camera and snapping pictures of everyone's work.
I had one student ask me the other day whether being a model is weird, because he imagined it was, and for a minute, all I could think to say to that was "It is what it is." Most of the time, as long as I pick the right pose, it's almost relaxing. Meditative, which is good. My life always needs more meditative practices, and its hard to get caught up in thoughts about everything else I should be doing when I'm currently doing the thing I'm getting paid for. But yes, there are times where "weird" is probably the best word to describe it. I've had a teacher come point out things about anatomy on me, and found myself suddenly with a hand a few inches away from me, or a pointer stick even closer. I've had the stick laid across my shoulders intentionally to show the angle, and I've also had the same stick poke me very unintentionally when he just happened to misjudge his distance (though he's always apologised). And while I've never felt judged, I have heard some odd statements. Only in this context do I think my large breasts would be described as "tricky."
And then there are the funny moments. The teacher trying to get the students to move closer and asking me to help him reassure them that I don't bite. The student holding up his paintbrush to check a color against my skin, when the way he moved forward and back looked so much like a fencer wielding a brush instead of a foil that I had to try not to burst out laughing. And let's not forget the conversations that happen outside of class. One day, I was happy that some students said hi to me in the halls and a friend of mine cheerfully replied, "They recognize you with your clothes on!" Another friend is hoping someone will hang one of these pictures up in their house so that one day she can look up at someone's wall and say, "I know those tits!" And then I get my own moments of private amusement, because I frequently get to pick my own poses, and I'm enough of a dork to do things like making everyone draw Eiji's henshin pose from Kamen Rider OOO every time a new class asks me for short gesture drawings.
I was asked recently whether I would do this full time if I could, and in all honesty I can't imagine that would be a good idea, with all the stress it can put on the body at times. As a part-time job, though, with a day between to move freely and recover, I honestly love it, more than I was expecting to. When I first picked it up, it was just something that seemed like an easy way to make some money. Now, I think it's something I would have a hard time letting go of.