The Naked Truth

For the past two semesters I have been taking required art classes in school. I have always enjoyed and been good at many types of art, but due to a serious fear-of-failure syndrome this is the first time in my life I have taken any classes.

This semester I learned that we were going to be "working with figures". In plain English, nudes. Ten years ago I would have dropped the class immediately upon learning this information. Older and wiser (and properly medicated on anti-anxiety/social disorder medication) I decided to ride it out.

Tonight was night number one of three for our figure drawing. It turned out to not be as horrifying of an experience as I expected. Actually, it wasn't bad at all - don't get me wrong, I am not making a career out of nude portraits, but I am not scarred for life. I think it helped that 1) our model was female. I would have been severely embarrassed drawing the male genitalia. 2) she described herself as Rubenesque and was correct in that description. This for some reason made me feel more comfortable than I would have had I been drawing a Kate Mosesque model.

All in all, the naked truth is that I lived through the class without blushing severely and will survive the next two classes without permanant damage from seeing a naked person in public. I guess I can giggle now about having to draw the crack a bottom.

Until later... (BTW, I have stolen this closing line from The Fount, it's better than "ta ta for now" or "After a while crocodile"). Thanks CK.