A day off, and I'm spending it in another artistic environment. Ever heard of Doctor Sketchy? Well, if you live in Edinburgh, (and if you can get to the Jazz Bar on Chambers Street in this weather) I definitely recommend you check it out.
Imagine a cross between an art class and a burlesque event... that's sort of what you get here. Even as I write this, I'm looking at the stage where a tiny, but incredibly cute model (her name is Dolly Tartan) is posing suggestively with a rolling pin and some cream. She's meant to be Nigella Lawson, about to provocatively lick it clean. Very nice.
So... OK... it's a sexy girl, rather than a naked man. A bit of a departure from my usual events. And you might argue that by promoting women as sex objects, I'm undermining my usual female-empowerment stance... but... well... if you are, then just chill out. It's all good fun, innit?
(If you're going to use the empowerment argument against me though, then there's a good possibility that you won't accept my very valid and intelligent "chill out" response. So I'll point out that our tiny, cute, sexy model is not selling her gender out and is not up there to titillate and demean women for the gratification of men. She is sexual, beautiful and suggestive... and seems to be having an absolutely great time. Which suggests to me that she is empowering herself and - by extension - her sexuality.)
Anyway, this is a monthly event. There are prizes for the best drawing and it's a very fun way to spend the occasional Sunday afternoon. Check out their site and then come along to one of the classes.
Sunday 5 December 2010
Saturday 4 December 2010
Slogging through the snow
It's been an eventful day.
It started off with a bit of a slog. I packed a lot of large sketchpads, piled them into a large bag with wheels and set out into the snow. Almost immediately, I had to sling the bag over my shoulder, because there was no way it was going to move through the snow in the manner it was designed for. It's not designed to be slung over a shoulder either, so I continuously switched between inconvenient methods of trudging through this bloody snow. The bus route had been diverted, so the snow even made things difficult there.
This group was at a private venue, rather than the one I usually provide at the BeeHive. I'd looked it up on a map, saw that it was fairly close to Morrison Street and decided to meet my tutor at the BeanScene in Haymarket. I figured that a quick coffee and a two minute walk was all that was needed. It was my tutor that reminded me that the venue was closer to Morningside than Haymarket, though - and there was no direct bus route. Nothing I could do about that. My mistake. We walked across the road to the Haymarket train station and caught a taxi instead.
The class itself was fun. The bride didn't know I was there, so we were sneaked in and placed into a fairly large room to get ready. I needed to get freshened up first though, so was shown to a toilet at the back of the house. But then I had to walk back through the kitchen and it was suddenly full of girls. I still hadn't seen the bride, so didn't know if she was one of those girls. And since I didn't want her to see me (thus ruining the surprise) I made a quick 'phone call to the girl who booked me to make sure the bride was still out of the way before I returned to the room where the class was taking place. It's these little details - all the creativity and subterfuge - that make this job so interesting.
It started off with a bit of a slog. I packed a lot of large sketchpads, piled them into a large bag with wheels and set out into the snow. Almost immediately, I had to sling the bag over my shoulder, because there was no way it was going to move through the snow in the manner it was designed for. It's not designed to be slung over a shoulder either, so I continuously switched between inconvenient methods of trudging through this bloody snow. The bus route had been diverted, so the snow even made things difficult there.
This group was at a private venue, rather than the one I usually provide at the BeeHive. I'd looked it up on a map, saw that it was fairly close to Morrison Street and decided to meet my tutor at the BeanScene in Haymarket. I figured that a quick coffee and a two minute walk was all that was needed. It was my tutor that reminded me that the venue was closer to Morningside than Haymarket, though - and there was no direct bus route. Nothing I could do about that. My mistake. We walked across the road to the Haymarket train station and caught a taxi instead.
The class itself was fun. The bride didn't know I was there, so we were sneaked in and placed into a fairly large room to get ready. I needed to get freshened up first though, so was shown to a toilet at the back of the house. But then I had to walk back through the kitchen and it was suddenly full of girls. I still hadn't seen the bride, so didn't know if she was one of those girls. And since I didn't want her to see me (thus ruining the surprise) I made a quick 'phone call to the girl who booked me to make sure the bride was still out of the way before I returned to the room where the class was taking place. It's these little details - all the creativity and subterfuge - that make this job so interesting.
The girls were cheeky, cheerful, suggestive - all the qualities I like. A couple of them used some creative licence and added an extra element to their pictures. The room wasn't overly warm, so there was never enough stirring going on to make their drawings particularly accurate. That's all part of the fun, but it's funny - nobody has ever drawn me like that before. Creative use was made of tinsel and a pair of Christmas boots - the type you hang up by the fireplace. I was cautious with the final pose, however, because I was very conscious that the boots and the wooden floor were a risky combination - it would have been very easy for me to slip in them.
The photography part was a lot more fun that usual, too. There were lots of camera and the girls were very happy to pose with me, so I really got to milk that part of the session. I took one of the pictures, turned in profile and held it strategically by my side while I posed with the girl who had drawn that one. Before that, all the girls sat on or stood behind a couch, while I sat on the floor in front of them and my tutor took more pictures. When I stood up, everybody noticed that I had a signature on my bum - I'd sat on top of one of the pictures. The girl who had drawn that one came forward and more pictures were taken with her pointing at her signature.
Eventually, though, I got dressed, then the tutor and I left and headed homewards - but not before the bride stopped us at the door and gave me a hug. Another first. I really, really enjoyed this group.
The thing is that they were cheerful, happy and fun to be with. They really seemed to enjoy the event. They participated with enthusiasm, made us feel appreciated and had some creative ideas for poses. They also weren't shy about letting me know what they really wanted to see. If the girls on one side of the room had me facing them, the girls on the other side complained that they were getting "the boring view".
I left business cards behind and gave them my usual request for copies of the pictures. They assured me they'd send some out. I really hope they do.
The bus route was still diverted when I got close to home. So more walking and more exhaustion. Wet socks by the time I got home. I really need to get a flat in the city centre.
The photography part was a lot more fun that usual, too. There were lots of camera and the girls were very happy to pose with me, so I really got to milk that part of the session. I took one of the pictures, turned in profile and held it strategically by my side while I posed with the girl who had drawn that one. Before that, all the girls sat on or stood behind a couch, while I sat on the floor in front of them and my tutor took more pictures. When I stood up, everybody noticed that I had a signature on my bum - I'd sat on top of one of the pictures. The girl who had drawn that one came forward and more pictures were taken with her pointing at her signature.
Eventually, though, I got dressed, then the tutor and I left and headed homewards - but not before the bride stopped us at the door and gave me a hug. Another first. I really, really enjoyed this group.
The thing is that they were cheerful, happy and fun to be with. They really seemed to enjoy the event. They participated with enthusiasm, made us feel appreciated and had some creative ideas for poses. They also weren't shy about letting me know what they really wanted to see. If the girls on one side of the room had me facing them, the girls on the other side complained that they were getting "the boring view".
I left business cards behind and gave them my usual request for copies of the pictures. They assured me they'd send some out. I really hope they do.
The bus route was still diverted when I got close to home. So more walking and more exhaustion. Wet socks by the time I got home. I really need to get a flat in the city centre.
Wednesday 3 November 2010
Postcards
I saw a card in Frankfurt last month and I couldn't resist it. It's for getting that all important (to some people) male measurement. There are little comments in German on the side. Now, that might sound pointless in the UK, but I think the fact that the comments need to be translated just makes them funnier.
The other cool thing about this is that it measures girth, rather than the more traditional length.
Size does matter (And I'm not sure why that bit was in English.
Wird langsam kritisch...
Gut geübt
Es kommt nicht auf große an
Bleib besser single
Zeit, was zu tun...
Hier auflegen...
These translate as
Size does matter (That one wasn't exactly difficult)
Becomes slowly critical...
Good practice
It is not great at all
Remain better single
Time to do which...
Here lay... (And that one sounds slightly sinister).
So this does tend to reinforce two commonly held beliefs... the Germans are very demanding people and their sense of humour is a bit... well, let's go with surreal. In the meantime, I have to decide whether I'm happier at describing myself as "slowly critical" or "good practice".
The other cool thing about this is that it measures girth, rather than the more traditional length.
Size does matter (And I'm not sure why that bit was in English.
Wird langsam kritisch...
Gut geübt
Es kommt nicht auf große an
Bleib besser single
Zeit, was zu tun...
Hier auflegen...
These translate as
Size does matter (That one wasn't exactly difficult)
Becomes slowly critical...
Good practice
It is not great at all
Remain better single
Time to do which...
Here lay... (And that one sounds slightly sinister).
So this does tend to reinforce two commonly held beliefs... the Germans are very demanding people and their sense of humour is a bit... well, let's go with surreal. In the meantime, I have to decide whether I'm happier at describing myself as "slowly critical" or "good practice".
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