Substitute Modeling on November 26

Cathy Buck, portrait of Tim Leeming

Mary Qian, portrait of Tim Leeming

As occasionally happens -- last Tuesday's model for the painting workshop was a no-show - so one of the artists, Tim Leeming, climbed up on the platform  to take her place.

I've done that a few times myself over the past thirty years.  One time, my physique so surprised one of the artists who arrived late that she shouted out "Eeeek -- Chris is naked!".  Another time, after delivering what I thought were challenging and dramatic poses, one of the artists complained that I didn't hold still.  Needless to say -- my enthusiasm for volunteering has cooled off.

But Tim remains a more noble and generous soul -- so he soldiered on to pose for an entire five-and-a-half hour session.

While doing so,  a poem celebrating the occasion began to gather in his mind.

It also celebrates the upcoming holiday  - suggesting, perhaps, that Tim was beginning to feel a bit peckish - as well as identifying with the poor turkey.



(if you also did a portrait of Tim at this workshop, please send an image that I can add to this post)

*****************

AS FROM PREY

AT THE ART CLUB

The scheduled model for the day

Failed to report in the garret 

Of the last remaining three-story

Walk-up Grey-stone

Which served as 

At the Art Club

15 eager members

Assembled over midweek morning coffee

And to await  inspiration from the muse

Which also may

Or may not appear

With no professional model

From among the fellowship

A reluctant recruit is chosen

And the exterior form

Of this person

Is raised above their peers

Positioned on the dais

Instructed to remain seated and still 

conspicuous and absent 

throughout the morning

This 'sitter'

Supported by cushions

With masking tape markers

For memory

Will comply with the rigors of the vigil

And sit motionless

As the North-light arches 

To the left

Until the precious light drains

Under clouds 

Bringing drizzle and drops

And the hum of steady rain  

Later in  the afternoon

At the request of the sitter

The radio is tuned to classical station

WFMT

At above medium volume

Everyone there takes a few full breaths

As the conductor raises his arms

And gets busy

As the baton drops 

And bobs up and down

Back and forth

In regular swipes

To encourage the musicians

And the artists

who respond with attention

and happy labor

 throughout the day

Grim faced

Determined 

Not turning away from the struggle

Running again up the familiar hill

Straining to see

Stretching bounds of perception

As if from the top of main-mast

Searching the horizon for sight of land

Taking up tools

The instruments of their craft

On paper

On canvas

On wooden palette

On glass

In pursuit of truth

To understand

To document

To honor

As the fencer wields his sword

And the orchestra strains 

Each artist will scrape, slash, dab for next five hours

With a brush

Or pencil

Or a worn nub of chalk

The background music is a century old

Rows and rows 

Of precision instruments

Reeds

Brass

Cork

The sensuous bloated wooden form

 of the double bass

Together 

to  loyally present again

A Strauss waltz

Chopin

Tchaikovsky 

The orchestra throbs

dances

 swirls and whirls

In crescendo

Punctuated by boom 

Of tympanic kettle drums

The sitter listens

As never before

To the layers of sound

Expressionless

Eyes staring straight ahead

As all blurs into periphery

There tradition has been replayed

And repeated by kindred souls

For hundreds of years

Across continents

In France

Germany

Spain

For such purpose

Apples were arranged by Cezanne

The  grim 'Thinker '  leaned on his chin  for Rodin

Work-shoes

And prostitutes sufficed for VIncent

Around the sitter

There is movement

Tapping

Murmurs and hushed self rebuke

As each of those assembled

Around the sitter

Aspire to conceal

Or by chance

Reach beyond their self acknowledged limitations

The sitter sees all

And nothing

The room reduced to a periphery of fog

Sensing only the cloud of predatory activity

A fist is raised fists

A right angle is consulted

 brushes are loaded

to make their point

Revealing the intent of the hand

A confident flourish

"Aha! I know this!"

a questioning  slow dab

"Does this work"

And the surrender of a double dab

"whatever"

The sitter sits

Listening to the music

And the grumbling crowd below

Transcending the hub-hub

FInding peace and focus

Above and beyond

Within the sitter

There is a solitary Struggle 

To deny the inner voice

The disembodied Monkey-brain

The disheveled small creature

Who continues the madness

Below the surface

Swinging from side to side in the cage

From hairy arms

Chattering nonsense

Baring teeth

The sitter has found his spot on the wall

On which to focus

The dormant light fixture

On the other side of the room

Appears to be a blurry

Triangle of the dangerous creature

A lion perhaps

Or a baboon 

Who holds an index finger to his lips

In warning

Do not move

The sitter understands what is demanded

And locks alert eyes

And concentration

On the lions face

20 yards distant

facing him from low in the grass

Almond eyes

Raised snout

moist nostrils

The predator must be kept at bay

To  look away 

Would invite a charge

And certain death

When concentration slips

The sitter almost laughs 

At his ridiculous predicament

Not really a dignified

Graven image of a man

But a dunce on a chair

Serving a sentence of a  self imposed

Day-long  'time-out'

The sitter perceives the working artists

As an aquatic cloud of  sea grass

A hungry aquatic swarm 

Of skin feeding fish

Nibbling 

As on the bunions and unwanted callous material 

on the underside of  feet

of  indulgent women 

Soaking their toes 

In the salinated basin

At the spa

Movement all around

Waving in and out

Bobbing up and down

Peering at him 

with urgent squinting cat-faces

Greedy

Coveteous

Looking for answers

For Line

Shadow

Edge

Form

Features

Proportion

Two days before Thanksgiving

The turkey too

Will sit trussed

And tied

Having been chosen

Positioned

basted every 20 minutes

(The same interval of breaks  for the artists)

And presented

The center of a ring of side dishes

Without which

There is no joy 

In the Potatoes

Cranberries

Yams

or Gravy

It is necessary for the artwork to be properly done 

brought to completion

"A triumph my dear"

And the meal on Thanksgiving 

Steaming

Golden brown

A salty, savory consumed  achievement

Temporary by design

As fleeting as the fading light

Or the extended chords at the completion of the symphony

It is over

The day was long

We know that our time is short

What was done

Is done

The artwork survives

The journey was the feast

TIm Leeming

Palette and Chisel Academy of Chicago

Happy Thanksgiving 2019