A workshop in figure writing with nude models. The workshop explores
writing the figure in black & white; tonal writing; colour; chiaroscuro text;
the figure in their environment and the figure in motion.
EXCERPTS OF TEXT WRITTEN BY PARTICIPANTS :
Soojaks puhutud kaheksajalg
Must toasein toob eriti välja naise mänglevad, veessolberdavad jalalabad, kõverate varbakestega, otsast teravad. Pistikupesa ja need juhtmed selle kõrval on imelikud. Toas on tunda soojust, mis kõik nende kehade poole suunatud. Kõik pilgud, kõik mõttejõud, kuid mitte hääled. Helid liiguvad pigem kaarjalt vaikivate kujude ümber. Kritseldavate lainetena, nahina ja sosinana. Taustaks soojuse puhuv hääl.
Koos tunduvad nad nagu kaheksajalg, koosnemas ristuvatest liigetest kaetud pehmete muhkudega. Nende vaikne närvilisus kõige keskel toob meie endi kohmakad tegevuspüüded nii selgelt esile. Kõhklevad köhatused ja vahetuvad pilgud peegeldavad hirmu selle stoilise massi ees, mida need kaks inimest üksteise taustal moodustavad.
Poos nr 5
Justkui läheks pea sisse peitu. Võib-olla ongi seal sees. Läheb üle põskedeks ja peitub musta juuksepahmaka taha. Kaelaliha tahab ära minna, eemale voolata. Kuid naha ümar tasku hoiab teda hällitavalt ringis kinni. Peaaegu ei näegi kaela, ta on see, mis on sees peidus. Mis on ohtlik, milleta kõik kokku kukuks. Temas peituv jõud on püstine, kergelt kooldus, klõgisev ja klõnksuv. Pungub, salvestades nii iga kahtlushetke. Teine kael on väänduvam, nurgelisem. Justkui väätidega pea ümber kinni tõmmatud. Jooksmas kukla taga otse mõtetesse.
Õrn lõhnavine imbumas läbi kontide. Summutades mõttemüra, kerkib ja langeb pöörlevate lainetena, õhkudes lämmatavast kehast meie poole. Tumedad sõõmud sooja mürgist hingeõhku, kusjuures hingamine on pinnapealne ja tahaks hingata välja, kui tegelikult sisse hingab. Ärkveloleku põrgu, silmad värelemas, suutmatus enda liigutuste hirmu ja tungi kontrollida.
Ümmargused voolavad vormid eristuvad üksteisest kontrastselt. Üks südamekujuline teise pea lapikuksvajutatud lopsaka pehme rinna peal. Tagumisele laotub valgus kui erendav loor, jättes varju sarnaste kolmnurkadena alumist osa toetama. Madalalt jooksevad sirgena kaks joont, ülemine kaarja nürinurga all, mis läheb edasi üliväikseks säär-labajalaks. Tasakaal läheb keskelt üle laiemale harksele toetuspinnale. Teine lõpus koolduv tunneb tema keha (ülemise küljega seoses). Esiplaanil olev täisnurk on träpsutatud õrnade valguslaikudega, mis sujuvalt lõpeb reitevahelise sirgjoonega. Kõige esiletungivamad on kahelt küljelt eemalduvad hooguandvad käed, mille tasakaaluks ümar vormideküllane kõht ja sügavam vagu tumedateks varjunditeks.
Olen sinises nägemuses, kus inimeste liha voolab mööda nende kehasid alla. Varjud on nagu õues
surnuks külmuv must koer, kaitsevärvunud hallika lume alla. Mõlema suud on väiksekstõmbunud kriipsud, reetmata ühtki positiivset emotsiooni. Naise lokki keerduvad juukseotsad soovivad alla langeda ja mehe hallikaspruun nahk annab läbi jahedat punast ollust, sillerdamas pisaratena söevärvi silmadest. Nad on üksteise külge kokku varisenud, happest imbunud vingerdavad jooned lõpetavad maas purunenud nurgeliste kontidena, mis puudutuse all olemast lakkavad. Ainult määrivad põrandat oma haiglasliku inimlehaga, mis huugab rasketest laotunud varbaotstest. Pärast põletamist on kõik tänavad vaiksed. Siblimise ja kraapimise intensiivsuse kulminatsioon. Roosakas nahk korralikult volditud ja piinavast elust tühjaks väänatud.
The head bends forward, nose pointing straight to the ground. The shoulders arch round, with lumps in fives…
The heat stuck to frozen face. Gently she sways, eyes harsh and untrusting. Limp hair falls across tense shoulders as hanging breasts slip over the stomach held tight. A nose pulls up in annoyance as the man beside her lies still. Her knee is raised on the soft cushion, as is his in quiet parallel. A chilled nipple casts a sorry shadow on his chest, flecked with hair. A tired mouth turns up at the corners, on edge.
The shape of his left shoulder pulls heavily downwards, an elbow fighting left and right as the upper arm stretches outwards, and the lower back inwards, to the weight bearing thigh. Her arm fights a tougher battle. Hand on hip, a strong muscle forces outwards and returns a strict angle back to the strip of chest and shoulders. Pulling heavily down from here, a pair of breasts with an indent of shadow. Directly below this shadow, the cave of a belly button sucks in a 2% journey towards the small of the hidden back. Legs apart, the upper body is held staunchly in the middle. He in comparison is weighted to the left, his entire mass falling heavily on a back leg that rests behind him. His stomach falls out, remaining upright; a weight breathing in and out. His left hand hangs in air, unsupported, hovering closer to a bulbous right thigh and quivering in tension.
The large black expanse of the room weighs heavy on the hot couple. A soft mattress pushed up against a breast which forcefully returns the pressure. The lamp hanging to her right points down at an indifferent ass which skirts into her back with little sound. He stares mournfully at the heater, which protrudes from the point at which arm and leg meet. I’m behind them, now. Her body rests higher than his from the bottom and yet parallel to the ground. A table looks upon the two from a height, behind which two students sit below a large, white screen. A sheet falls almost from the stool which is hiding behind her head and sheltering a bag which used to house at least her phone.
Her foot lay over the shoe, the heel hanging heavily across the back. A nail pointing downwards suggested a hint of previous lacquer, but no recent attention. A length of white betrayed the fact that she had not touched scissors to nail in some time. A dimple behind the large toe contradicted the foot’s strength, adding a sympathetic gentleness to its otherwise sturdy nature. It met the ankle with some force, certain in its contact with the body continued. The negative mountain that formed from the arch of the heel and the slope to the ball remained stuffed with leather for the duration of her sitting. Dappled skin sheathed the body part, mottled with wear and journey. As a toe wiggled and then lurched upwards, it seemed to suggest that the situation demanded change – the foot wanted movement and its mirror didn’t disagree.
A shoulder jutted outward from the dark, rising to meet a sudden leg. The light about the two figures picked at a multitude of dark hairs which lay scattered and stuck on the supporting lower limb. All around was ruffling and murmur and the fold of papers turned over. The red of his back burned redder in the light and shadows flung themselves from shoulder blades. The entire right side of his neck was bathed in a darkness that captured most of his leg but failed to harness a balled knee joint as it leapt upwards and into the light. A foot tapped in and out of the light as it tried to push the blood around. Meanwhile, his tired torso swayed in and out of the dark. Of her upper half, almost nothing was visible, aside a sharp white nose studded with deep, black nostrils. A right breast too gathered some light and stored it for future use. Brightest of all was his ear.
He removed his jumper with grace and swayed from side to side as the music played. Sweat glistened on his back as he dropped the hooded jumper a third time. From a distance, she watched on, her hand on a phone held out hard in front of her. Her eyes flicked sometimes to his torso as he dressed and undressed his upper half, but her glances probed me most often.
Blue boxers protruded from below his trousers and he wriggled his hood up and down with the final dressing (or so it seemed) but it was not to be the final. Again, he reached up to roll and unroll sleeves.
He rocked his body to and fro, dancing with confidence as she reclined on the mattress, a book in her hands. A foot still flicked in time with the music that kept him moving. A smile on his face, his eyes quivered almost closed. His shoulders rolled back on themselves and hands pulled from the ground. An ass wiggle shook the room but she remained supine and scantily clad, her arms disagreeing with the rest of her body as they shot fiercely up in the air at 90 degrees, parting the pages of John’s book. As the song neared its end, her elbows weakened with the hint of falling inside themselves.
He exerted his strength with stretched downwards, while she lay naked, running a hairbrush across all of her visible flesh. She rubbed her legs up and down with unhurried determination, eyeing the ground and the heater.
He came before her, a mountain as he stretched downward and at the change of the music, her stroking became softer and more intimate. She rocked forward, revealing a monstrous set of buttocks as she pulled the brush behind her, bending to its touch. As she rolled the black shaft over her thigh, her knee, she whimpered slightly, moving furiously fast in comparison to his slow and confident stretches. The hood fell over his head.
She flung the robe around her and tied it from behind, repositioned the cushions and her personal possessions as he paced the room. On her hands and knees, naked asshole to the crowd, she flattened the sheets on the mattress and he paced. His fringe flopped forward and a quiet smile held on his face, he nodded slightly to the music. Her hands moved across her arms, up and down, as she feigned lack of temperature. Mumbling to herself, she returned the book to its table and the jumper to her upper half.
One leg raised, she held the pen three inches from the page, eyeing those in the room and reflecting our actions. She squinted her eyes as one who is thinking. He stood. He sat. She repositioned herself lower on the mattress. Her feet painted circles. He lifted his right foot to his left knee. He stood. She pretended to write. He sat. She wriggled her nose, she wriggled her feet. He raised his eyebrows. He stood. She held the paper away from her face to better pretend to see. He sat. His hand caught his knee and his eyes caught my eyes. He rubbed his thumb against his forefinger. He stood. He sat. She pretended to count. The music changed. She bit her pen, she picked her nose. He stood.
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