There is a viewpoint “out there” that says if you are seen nude, you are somehow dishonored. Clearly, the women in our art collective disagree, but we know this perception exists, and we understand where the sense of shame comes from. Nobody wants their privacy invaded, their vulnerability paraded or their intimacy exposed.
Everyone wants to be able to share their intimacy on their own terms. Or not at all. But if we’re not exposed to our own bodies, our own vulnerabilities, how can we accept ourselves, every aspect of ourselves, exactly the way we are?
We draw the human body, often including our own bodies, in order to LOVE what is UNLOVED.
Our goal is to offer tender, loving, eyes upon all aspects of life, including those we are less comfortable with. Drawing is a slow, contemplative process that allows us to see things differently, as opposed to the instant judgment that comes up when we see an image we instantly, unthinkingly like, or dislike. It helps us to see what’s really there, with less judgement and more curiosity and acceptance. To peel back the labels and see what’s underneath.
We invite others to draw in order to participate in this change in perception; to move beyond the exclusion we usually practice with our easy judgments in order to see things the way they are, with love.
Simply write to us to find out how to get started on this process, we are happy to accompany you: email@example.com
Playing the role of camera person for a person daring to pose nude, for me, is always a series of gentle, tender moments. I feel humbled to be invited into the vulnerable space of someone’s nudity, and because I have also experienced the model side of the equation, it is very important that I help them feel comfortable. I believe that by facing up to our fears and discomforts about our bodies, we can get past them. Sometimes facing our own judgments in front of a camera lens is what it takes to allow for a shift in perspective. Most people only undress in front of their lovers or maybe their family doctor, so to do so purposefully opens the door to seeing ourselves differently.
For me, drawing the nude body, whether it’s mine or someone else’s; man or woman, at any age or in any condition, is an act of respect towards the miracle that we are as human beings. We don’t always appreciate the complex intelligence of this envelope that allows us to experience life on earth. When we are unconscious and don’t take care of it, we may find ourselves at war with our own bodies; as many anorexics, bulimics, drug addicts and alcoholics know too well. Aside from these extremes, there are still too many people insulting themselves in front of the mirror daily. Drawing the nude body, no matter how basic our drawing skills may be, is a celebration of the body in every form it takes; a moment of contemplation in front of this miracle; a tender caress of a crayon upon paper translating the simple beauty of our humanity.
And I said to my body, softly, “I want to be your friend.” It took a long breath and replied, “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”
My title today was inspired by a lovely quote by artist Paul Klee who said: “Art does not reproduce what we see. It makes us see”.
My attempt at making art today is showing me alot more than just how I feel about my body. It’s giving me insight into where the roadblocks to freedom and happiness exist inside me. I am trying with a respectful amount of sincerity and as much persistence as I can muster to paint with watercolors.
I ditched a beginners’ class years ago because I didn’t like the professor’s approach and am trying to learn by doing. Sometimes I like what I do, but I’m also facing some deeply ingrained reactions like fear and self-sabotage. Fortunately, I guess, watercolor paper is too thick to ball up and throw across the room, but the very idea of wasting a sheet of paper seems like a failure. My brain is hard-wired in terms of success and failure. What am I learning from the process? That I am too self-critical, that color is beautiful, that a paintbrush is a tool of great tenderness, and that my attachment to results is killing all my fun.
How will I get past these blocks? By keeping on doing it, I guess. By refusing to buy into the self-sabotage in my mind. By taking a break and going for a walk and trying again. By reaffirming to myself that it’s not about results, that the practice is worthy in itself and that I will continue to learn from the process. By not quitting and not judging. Easier said than done; avoidance is much easier. Do you suffer from these types battles in your mind too when you attempt a creative process?