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her students present were a mix of ages. Two women looked to be in their mid-forties. They may have been returning to college to follow their dream after years caring for children. The other three were my age, dressed in clothes similar to mine – work clothes, that could be splashed with paint, or linseed oil or charcoal without much concern.
There was a desk at the front of the room with a large old-fashioned blackboard on the wall behind it. On the board was written "Life Drawing 101" and below it, 'Talia Abasi: Instructor'. I'd seen a photo of her, and she was beautiful, about forty, her long braids pulled up into a high bun. In the photo, she wore a colorful dress, and was receiving the medal from the president of Kenya.
I realized I was lucky to have found a space in her class.
In the next ten minutes, other students entered and took up about half of the other twenty benches in the room. Then, a few minutes after ten o'clock, Talia arrived, wearing a long flowered dress, her hair up in a turban. She had dark horn-rimmed glasses on and wore a bright smile.
"Hello, class," she said in perfect British English with a strong touch of the local accent. "I'm Talia Abasi. You can call me Talia."
"Hello, Talia," several students replied.
She bowed slightly. "Welcome to Life Drawing 101. In this class, we expect you to have some experience drawing with pencils and charcoal. The purpose is to allow you time with a model so you can learn to do a quick sketch, and then a longer study of the nude human body. This way, you will gain knowledge of the musculature, the structure and form of the body and will work with light and shadow, perspective and texture. I won't be doing any instruction per se, but I will be here to answer any questions, and provide feedback on your work. There are no assignments. This is an open studio so you can do as you like. After the first break, when our model starts doing longer poses, the painting class will be joining us to use the model as well for their painting studies."
I frowned at that. The painting class – was that Sefton's class? I didn't like the thought of his class joining us, nor did I want him to view my work. I didn't want to have anything to do with him.
Then, a woman entered from a side door wearing a robe. She looked to be part African and part Asian and had long smooth black hair that hung down her back. She was beautiful, with lush curves and coffee-and-cream skin.
"Our model today is Mariko. She'll do a series of quick poses for you, then take a break, before taking one of three longer poses which you can use for studies." Talia turned to Mariko and bowed. Mariko bowed back and then walked to the center of the room where she stepped onto the raised platform. She removed her robe and stood before us naked, shaking her arms and legs as if to limber up.
Talia stepped closer to the circle of students. "Mariko is a dancer so she will be able to strike really flexible poses. She also has a lot of stamina, so she'll be able to move quickly from pose to pose. We're lucky to have her. Part of your tuition goes to paying our models but it's customary to leave a little something at the end of class for the model."
Then, Mariko began a series of quick poses, each one lasting no more than two minutes. We were expected to draw very quickly, trying to catch the basic form of her pose with broad strokes rather than fine detail. It was exhilarating. I had only taken a class with a nude model once before, so this was a treat. I did my best to capture the sweep of her pose as she bent and twisted and stretched in different ballet positions.
This went on for the first half hour. We got in almost thirteen poses before it was time for her to take a break. All the while, Talia circled the class, stopping to look at each student's drawings, commenting now and then on their progress, making suggestions. She stopped by my easel when Mariko was in a pose with her arms extended out in front of her, one leg held back behind her. I could see her in profile and tried my hardest to capture the whole pose, her leg bent slightly at the knee.
"Very nice," Talia said. "I can feel the weight in that leg. Good job."
I smiled, pleased that my instructor had a good comment for me. Then she moved on to the next student.
Finally, Mariko stopped posing, put her robe back on, and then left the circle of easel benches for the side room.
I wasn't pleased that, now, the painting class would be joining us for the rest of the period. I waited expectantly, hoping it wasn't Sefton, but his was the only other open studio class. I got up from my easel and went to the hallway where I had seen a water fountain, got a drink, then went to the washroom. When I returned, sure enough, Sefton was at the desk speaking with Talia. I took my place at my bench and turned over a fresh page on the newsprint pad, then took out my drawing pencils and sharpened them to ensure they were ready for use.
I felt suddenly conscious of eyes on me and glanced up only to be staring into Sefton's very brown eyes. He was leaning against the blackboard, his arms crossed, listening to Talia speak about something. When our eyes met, a smile quirked on his lips. He looked very handsome, wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt and faded jeans with black boots and a thick black belt.
He nodded to Talia and touched her on the shoulder. Then, he came directly over to me, smiling.
"Well, Ms. McDermott, I see there was something else better after all."
I forced a smile and glanced away, my cheeks heating under his scrutiny. "I thought drawing might be a better start for me. I haven't been in an art class for a while…"
"May I see your sketches?" he said and bent down, his hand moving to the pad of paper despite my not granting him permission. I didn’t really want him to look at my work, but he was pretty insistent. He turned back the pages of newsprint and looked at each drawing.
"Good work," he said. "You do well capturing the motion, the weight of the body, the tension. Perspective is good."
Then he returned the pad of newsprint to its place on the easel and folded his arms. "You don't really need practice."
"I think you can always use practice," I said, frowning. "I only recently started painting again after several years away and I'm a bit rusty."
"Not from what I can see."
"Thank you," I said, forcing yet another smile without meeting his eyes.
"I see you're wearing your… choker again," he said, his voice light, soft enough in the hum of the other students talking that only I could hear. "Are you 24/7?"
I glanced up at him. "No," I said, frowning. Then I caught myself.
Damn…
