Every Body

In my first interview to be art model, the head at The Art Institute of Philadelphia said this to me: anyone can be an art model, because life takes all forms. I've taken that statement with me for the past thirteen years, and it is the mantra I repeat to every human who doubts the specialness of their own body: we are each of us meant for art, because life takes all forms. 

A few days ago, after a particularly annoying modeling session, the instructor asks if I'm interested in modeling for the local evening sketch group. The group is run by a man of a particular generation, he communicates strictly by phone. I tell her sure, give him my number. She then looks at me earnestly, and tells me this man prefers a "particular type of model, physically," and she isn't sure he will "choose me". "Other members of the group would be interested in drawing you, I'm sure, but..." She wants me to know, in case he never calls. 

If you need assistance reading between the lines here, what she left unsaid is this man only books thin women. Probably young, since in my experience, these proclivities amongst artists usually come in pairs. 

I want to make it clear that there is nothing wrong with being young or thin. Or old and round. Or black, or brown, or blue. All bodies are good bodies, and art demands variety. Had she looked at me and said, "he only books curvy models," the issue would be the same.  

There are so many issues with this scenario that I'm having a hard time untangling them all. Objectification. Power dynamics. Abuse of position and money. Blatant misogyny. And then there's the community, quietly doing nothing, bracing up a platform for men who use their money to buy women they find attractive, and who graduate to thinking that money buys them more than just "looking". 

He's not the first artist with a reputation like this. While there is little written about the models of famous artists through history, there is documentation of Rodin (genius though he was) heaping abuse on his models (think holding them in place with ropes and pulleys). There were several men in the sketch clubs of Philadelphia and one at a historic acclaimed art school (that I will not name, to protect the models there) reported to not only book models who all look the same, but also stand too close and make inappropriate comments. It's a slippery slope from the former to the latter, and also a quick one. And what kills me every time, is the well-intentioned woman who pulls me aside to warn me, but can't find the voice to tell him he's a pig.

I was recounting this story for a friend, and she asked, "why can't you report him?" and the problem is there is no one to report him to. Sketch groups are often just a community of people who come together to share a common interest, with little structure and no governing body. I've modeled for groups that didn't even have a leader: a model coordinator would book the model, and it was up to the model to work with the artists to get through the session (talk about an environment that feels really uncontrolled and unsafe). 

I think what bothers me most about this is it breaks down the sanctity of the modeling space, and stabs at that philosophy taught to me all those years ago: that every body is a good body, worthy of love, and inspiring of art. These simple sketch sessions, meant to foster creativity and bring people together, are meant to be a safe space for the model. And this man, with his narrow, yet widely known preferences, has taken that safety away.