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POSTURE and anatomy were my least favorite parts of art and though I didn't need the advanced class on it, working on areas you know are weakest are better for improvement.
Plus, the marketing side of Fashion Design was something I was quite comfortable in. And who knows the kinds of inspiration I can have in learning from another area.
As a matter of fact, it was a bit of a shot in the dark for me to try for Professor Bianchi's exclusive class. She only took a limited portion of senior students, and even less for juniors. She had her own requirements that needed to be met, and this year, I was finally accepted a slot.
Every other Thursday was for practice on nude art. Every other week, nine to twelve of us arrive bright and early for a heavy and fulfilling session.
It was also pretty terrifying.
"Si!Il corpo è un tempio!" Professor Bianchi bellowed, sauntering around the room, weaving between easels and students. Her intensity brought startles all across students and mugs full of dirty paint water. "See how the light is elegant- like water stream, like - like the softness of silk, touching- just touching ever so little on his skin! See the beauty! The elegance! It is the softness of light and skin and the roughness of the male body that makes it so. Portray it! Perfect it!"
She spun around the middle and exploded her arms outward like a magician before doves flew out of the body in a pattern of spirals. She stopped just in front of me, covering the nude model who was twisted on a pedestal. "Vorrei che tu prendi la palla al balzo quando fai il tuo lavoro."
That is her finishing dramatization. Someone in class asked her about it after the fourth time she had proclaimed it - which is everyday in class, always towards the end - and she said it meant, I want you to take the bull by the horns with your work.
We also knew that once she said that, she would simmer off at the side, finally letting us breathe- and herself. She would sit on top of her desk very slightly, one foot pointed, as she sipped a small shot of pure espresso.
I checked the clock- twenty minutes before we were over, and tried to focus; grinding my teeth as my pencil marks darkened with intensity. When the twenty minutes ran up, the echo of the clock broke out throughout the room. I unplugged my earphones that I use to at least lower her volume and breathed.
Roslyn, a fellow senior and one I consider a good friend despite not being that close, met my eye as we all blinked, eyes wide, waking up from some sort of trance.
"Well," she said, voice hoarse. She hadn't spoken at all during class. "At least I drew half a body."
I hitched backward and saw that she had fully formed the body, the shadows brilliant, but only half done. I sighed. "At least you made good use of the shadows. Mine is..." The arm of mine was a little bent, and only half of the model's face was captured.
