England my England

A silver-grey morning. Driving to the college again, further signs of impending Autumn - the blush on a row of field maples, the odd yellow patch on oak trees. Why do different trees change into different colours, I wonder? That's one for the New Scientist Queries page. I glimpse two men on top of a haystack; a number of swans on the river half-hidden by hanging willows. What's the collective noun for swans? I'm sure we were taught that at Junior school (I think it's a parliament of owls, a convocation of crows...). Feels like it should be a pride of swans, or even a royalty of swans... anyway, that's the sort of aimless musing I like to fill my head with while driving.
Today the students were learning about shapes and curves. They had to draw me (in 'dynamic poses' lasting 3 minutes each) just by describing the curves, starting with the longest ones and working down to shorter ones, so maybe starting with out-stretched hand down to toe, then the gap between legs, all the way to kneecaps and (erm) tummy... OK. Maybe it was tummy then kneecaps. Five poses on one large sheet of paper.
The next demonstration was in making shapes on the page and joining or overlapping them to create the figure, with rounded scribbles to suggest the 3D effect. The tutor was not very good at it, and apologised. I noted that he carefully folded his effort later before dropping it in the bin. Despairing cries of 'I can't do this' came at regular intervals. But I have to say that after an hour and a half of intensive work - for me as well as them - most of them had improved dramatically. The last, longer, pose was to put together the measuring from last week with the curves and rounding out shapes of this week. Some of them were even recognisably me. I praised the tutor when they'd all gone, and he sounded very relieved that it had worked.
Driving home I kept noticing shapes, textures, forms and colours repeated in the hedgerows. The creamy fluffball shape of meadowsweet, the festoons of grey-white traveller's joy - or old man's beard as we used to called it - the flatish pinky-white flowers of yarrow, the big bold trumpets of bindweed, the spiky seed heads of teasel, the flatter ones of hedge-parsley. I love England. I love how we, the English, and whatever we called ourselves before we were English, have lived on this land, grown into and with this land, and shaped this land, over so many centuries. I belong here. It is familiar, and beautiful, as are the changing seasons.
There were three men on top of the haystack this time. I think I got stuck behind their feeder-tractor for miles, bumping along with its trailer gaily decorated with loose hay. That was after being stuck behind a member of the forty-club - you know, the ones who drive at forty miles an hour no matter what. Fortunately I was in no particular hurry. The sun was shining in all its September splendour and I was looking forward to an afternoon spent visiting artists' studios.
When I got home there was a message for me - someone from the college had been given my number and could I call them back about some work... It was for the foundation degree course taught at the other campus, an extra five hours on a Friday for five weeks. Yes. I can cope with that. I think. (I hope).

a hard week

Oh dear, really stiff and aching today. It was a hard week, but hopefully next week will be easier - only 3 modelling jobs instead of 4 which I've done now for 2 weeks. And at least it's Saturday and I could sleep in - before taking the cat to the vet's for her booster immunisations. Going to a neighbour's party tonight and the youngest is having a sleepover at a friend's - for a change. Usually they come here.
Thursday was one of the 'obscure village halls' jobs. This particular one is very large - and therefore generally very cold. The tutor brings a fan heater for me, but it's often not enough. At least it's not been frosty this winter - I remember going there last January and even the students were getting concerned about me - one of them popped home in the break to bring an extra heater because she couldn't bear watching me turn blue. But again, it's another of my favourite tutors - and this one is cash in hand, which is always handy.
The weather was wild rather than cold - blustery rain sweeping across the Levels, and high winds. I later read that 10 people had been killed by the storms, but the worst we got was a creaking wooden roof and noisy rain at the windows. The windows in that hall are fairly high up, but I could see the tops of the trees shaking around and the next rain squall heading our way.
About 9 artists made it through the weather, some arriving late, most of them I knew as regulars because I've sat for that group many times now. The session followed its normal course - several quick poses to 'warm them up', then some longer ones before the coffee break. They bring their own equipment and materials to this class - it's fun to watch them struggling with or showing off various different types of easels. There's one chap who leans his sketchbook on a chair perched on top of a table - it slid off this week, knocking his coffee everywhere. I took a photo of easels in the break, and some to show the size of the hall. You might even get to see them soon. Depends on what state I'm in tomorrow after the party...
And Friday was all day at the college again. That's where the aching muscles come from. The tutors here prepare work sheets for their students, with examples of other artists' work - then they ask me to take the same poses as the ones on the sheet. Well, the 'standing up with arms over head' ones were 5 minutes each, that was OK. It was also the first time these students had to work quickly, and after 3 of these it was obvious that they were finding it quite challenging. So it was back to 45-minute poses for me. Crunched up in a ball on a table. I did ask for a break half-way through to stretch, but still... one or two of those might be acceptable, but I had to come back after lunch and repeat the morning's class for a new set of students...
Fortunately for me, only 2 new students turned up, and 2 who had already done the morning's session (why do students not feel like turning up for classes on a Friday afternoon, I wonder?). Incidentally, the morning's class was the direct inversion of the gender spread of Tuesday's - if you follow me - consisting of 9 lads and 2 girls.
For the final poses of the day the (trainee) tutor took pity on me and let me sit in a more-or-less normal fashion on the end of the table. He even draped me with fabric over one arm, to give them even more of a challenge - I'm sure it wasn't just to keep me warm anyway. They were working with oil pastels this week, choosing 2 colours for contrasting tone, and the ones who returned for the afternoon session were even allowed to add more colours to their 'palette'.
I'm getting to know them a little now, recognising faces and even managing to remember a name or two (part of my brain doesn't function very well, the bit that connects names and faces, usually I'll manage one or the other but not both together). Can't remember the name of the one who was bold enough to engage me in conversation during the morning break though... but he came back in the afternoon. The other lad who came back was admonished by the talkative tutor for making me too thin - 'women have curves,' he said. 'That's why artists like to draw women. Look at all those lovely curves! Exaggerate them, even. Your homework for this week is to look at women, and if you get into trouble, tell them you're an artist!' I don't know what the lad's girlfriend, who's in the same class, made of this though. But maybe I should stop worrying so much about the extra pounds I've put on this winter - artists appreciate them, even if I don't.