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The Portal

August 13, 2018

Upon the stage I am unafraid. I know fine actors who suffer from sweaty palms or upset stomachs, but I am unafraid. Audience seated, house lights down, I’m ready to go. I can’t wait for my entrance.

But up there, I have several things to protect me. Most importantly I’m not myself. I play someone else; a character dressed in costumes and makeup, moving about an interesting set, amongst other actors and plot arcs. All the while I pretend the audience doesn’t even exist out there in the dark behind the fourth wall. I am safe.

Life modeling is different. It has none of these protections whatsoever. In a brightly lit room, among completely clothed people, we agree to violate all normal clothing conventions. I agree to refrain from covering my nakedness, and in kind, the artists agree to not look away, as courtesy would demand. Together we do what is unthinkable in everyday life.

The moment comes. I must slip the robe from my shoulders and lay it aside.

Completely exposed, completely vulnerable, the urge to flee boils within. However, not only can’t you run away, but instead you must mount a raised platform, in full view of everyone present, and once there, hold… perfectly… still. The artists, by necessity, examine your entire body with concentrated attention to detail. Not only will they see your private parts (which is bad enough), but they will see every imperfection that makes one human: pimples, wrinkles, scars, stretch marks, rolls of fat. The intensity is overwhelming. 

At the moment of disrobing, the clash of opposing forces (the urge to escape vs. the desire to endure) creates a portal into a strange and wondrous state of being. It is common to hear life models describe posing in spiritual terms. The opposite of an out-of-body experience, one becomes intensely present in the moment, incredibly aware of self, surroundings, and the passage of time. For me, it is transcendent. It washes me in self-confidence unlike any therapy or medication I’ve ever tried. The effects are residual, lasting for hours, even days.

My first reaction to life modeling was to seek out every possible opportunity. The second was to contemplate the reasons for this unexpected marvel with curative powers. Why has modeling given me my first depression-free winter? Why, after over a hundred sessions, am I setting aside everything in life, including acting (my first passion), to pursue a goal of modeling a thousand times?

The answer struck me one day with both its power and simplicity. It harkens back to my childhood when I was mercilessly bullied by 6th grade classmates. They would dream up new and creative recess games with the singular purpose of hurting me. They taught me messages: that I was not as good as them; that I was not one of the beautiful people. It was not these mean-spirited lies, but my believing them, that caused me the most harm. Fear of conflict, failed relationships, and a lifelong struggle with anxiety and depression followed.

Acting promised some freedom. The theatre became my Island of Misfit Toys where the broken things inside didn’t matter. In the troupe’s camaraderie, and in the characters I played, I found some escape. Theatre helped, but it didn’t change my internal beliefs. I was better, but not healed.

Then I stepped through the portal. I overcame every instinct in me that shouted Run! I stepped out of that robe and onto that dais. There, surrounded by people I respect immensely – artists – I engaged in the process of creating art. I allowed them to use my body, my shapes, shades, shadows and lines, to create beautiful art. How then could I not be a beautiful person?

Those bully messages were not just challenged, they were utterly destroyed. The shackles fell away. For the first time in years I felt healed, whole, free. Artists were making art, out of me! I became aware of my true self, my value, my…beauty. I post often on Facebook, “life modeling makes me happy.” How true. And oh, how marvelous! 

~ Vigneri, Joseph. “The Portal.” Left of the Lake Magazine, vol. 17, 2017, pp. 6-7.

Filed Under: Musings

Colors of the Morning

August 13, 2018

It was a balmy June morning. I was in a little town called O’Fallon Illinois, right outside St. Louis. I was excited to be going to a huge bike ride in the city, expected to have 3,000+ riders. The clear blue sky outside my hotel was expansive, and matched my mood. It was one of those brilliant mornings where the sun shines in on a low angle through an utterly cloudless sky, bathing the entire world in dazzling golden colors… yellows, oranges… every reflection almost too bright to look at directly.

I needed to find a place to walk a couple miles, as was my habit every morning, so I popped on my sunglasses and set out to explore. If I was lucky, perhaps they had a forest preserve with trails. I was pleased to discover that they had an extremely large public park right in the center of the town. It was immense. Filled with baseball diamonds and picnic areas, it was at least a mile around. This would be perfect!

There was a parking lot right beside the public swimming pool on the north side of the park, and it was there I began my transit. I headed out to the east,
directly into the brilliant sunshine. This park was amazing! Besides the swimming pool, there was a diving pool and a ‘kiddie’ pool, and horseshoe pits, and baseball diamonds, and bocce ball and basketball and volleyball courts, etc. It had large green spaces, picnic areas, trees, bushes… all lit by the piercing sunshine in brilliant highlights and hues. There was even a big sign that announced special events, like Friday “Movie in the Park” night, with free popcorn!

I was contented and happy as I walked, turning first to the South and then the West as I circled this immense green space. I thought about the many blessings this town has, and about how nice it must be to live here. I thought about how many blessings I have as well. Just like the glimmering edges of everything in this wonderful park, my life had a glow and a lightness these days too. I had discovered life modeling, and a passion for everything related to figure art. My whole life seemed as bright and filled with possibilities as this brilliant morning.

I rounded the third corner and began walking up the ‘far’ side of the park. Here the shadows were long amongst several old oak trees… it felt like the “backside” of the park. It was then that I first noticed her.

There was a woman with dishwater blonde hair sitting in the shadows by the base of a tree. She was staring across the street into the town with a fixed gaze, smoking a cigarette and wearing dark sunglasses. Behind her, stacked against the tree trunk, were three plastic bags with… I’m not sure what… inside. At the base of the tree on the other side was a soiled and crumpled blanket. As I approached closer, I noticed that her hair was unkempt and her hands were dirty. She did not return my gaze. I said “good morning” with a smile. She didn’t respond.

Except for a puff of cigarette, she remained motionless in the glances I stole over my shoulder. I rounded the fourth corner of the park, and there turned out of her sight… then on past my car to start a second circuit round the park. The same brilliant sun blasted my eyes as I made my way to the east, but I didn’t seem as blinded or awe-struck by it this time. I couldn’t get the woman off my mind.

I wondered what she had done, or had not done, that brought her to my path, next to that tree, on this day. I wondered what multitude of decisions she made that resulted in her current circumstances. I wondered what had been taken from her by others… or what had been done ‘to’ her by others… that resulted in her sitting in the shadows of this old oak tree, on this brilliant morning.

I wondered how much money she had. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the wad of bills I knew was there. I think it was $63. I didn’t count it.

I thought about the many blessings in my life: family, health, wealth. I thought to myself “if I drop this money on this sidewalk right here, right now, and walk away from it, it will not significantly affect my life… I will still eat today.“ I wondered when the last time it was that she had eaten. I wondered, “If I give this money to her, will she have a full stomach in an hour, or will she be drunk?” I wondered, “if I give this money to her, am I a fool?”

For sure it would mean I was very much my father’s son. He was a compassionate man and a philanthropist. He had a tendency to look for needs around him, and then work to find a way to meet those needs. The fact that I was moved to compassion by the sight of this woman was a good thing. It meant that my heart was colored in the same hues as his.

As I walked along I marveled at the many shadows and deep values I hadn’t noticed the first time past. I had only fixated on the highlights before. I also noticed things in the town that I hadn’t seen the first time around: some streets in disrepair, a shuttered strip mall. It was my second time past these streets and buildings, but the first time I really saw them… really looked.

It occurred to me that this park needs this town, just as much as this town needs this park. It occurred to me that I might need this woman in the exact same way. I decided that if I were to find her still beside the tree, I was going to give her the wad still curled in my hand. I practiced the speech I would give in my mind and I rounded the corner.

She was still there, sitting in the shadows of the tree, staring out at nothing…

I walked deliberately now, with my chin up. I began to veer off the sidewalk toward her slightly as I approached, and she, noticing this out of the corner of her eye, lifted her gaze warily to watch me approach. Once close enough I began: “Hi! My name is Joseph and I have many blessings in my life, and I would like…“ She interrupted me suddenly and said “Oh! Oh no, I, I… I couldn’t!“ She dropped her gaze to her lap shaking her head. I said quickly, “No, you don’t understand! I have some money here, and I would just like to give it to you.”

At that I held the money out to her… all $63… (I think)

She looked at me for a long moment without speaking, then slowly took the money from my outstretched hand. It appeared to suddenly weigh a great deal, and her hand dropped to her lap. Her gaze followed. She said quietly but clearly “thank you.“ I said cheerfully “you’re welcome“ and practically skipped away. I smiled back at her over my shoulder a couple of times as I walked away, but her gaze was fixed on the wad of bills in her hand.

I rounded the corner, out of her sight, and into a feeling of wellness that I have seldom experienced in my life. I walked again around the park, light in my step and energize in my heart. I could see balance in everything around me, the park with its luster in a town with imperfections… highlights with their brilliance and the shadows with their depths. I decided that I was probably blessed by the woman more than she was blessed by me… that I truly needed her, here, today. I hoped that she would be well in the life ahead of her.

I felt focused as I walked. I felt a sense of internal balance and peace.

I wondered if she would still be there this time around, or if she would be gone from the tree, from my life. I turned the corner and looked ahead.

She was still there…

She had switched to the sunny side of the tree. Her chin was up into the light. She was smoking a new cigarette. Evidently she was watching for me, because as I approached she turned her face to me and smiled. I thought to myself “she might actually be pretty!“ I walked a few more paces returning her smile, which made her smile even broader. It was then I knew I was correct… she really was pretty! Some of the shine of her youth had worn off along the journey, but the lovely young girl she had once been was still there. Her smile was radiant.

Before I was close enough to hear she looked at me directly, tilted her head slightly, mouthed the words “thank you,“ and then smiled warmly, intentionally. With tears welling up in my eyes, I crossed my hands over my heart and mouthed back the words “you’re welcome.“ As I passed her I gave her my biggest smile and wished her a wonderful day. She in turn wished me the same, smiling after me.

I walked away from her a third time into the rest of that brilliant morning, and into the rest of my life. As I went, I carried a new lesson inside of me. Simply this: that the colors we see in the world have much less to do with the condition of the light… and much more to do with the condition of our hearts.

Joseph

Filed Under: Musings

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  • Modeling Basics
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  • Cool Stuff
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    • Back
  • ‘Joseph’ Collection
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