The Model
When Mr Brown retired
he took up art
went to many classes
life drawing too
where he found his heart
He loved the female form
rounded curves
like billowing clouds
like sand dunes
like gliding feathered birds
He loved the coloured pastels
gentle shades to form
the rounded curves he loved to see
merging pinks
into colours like the morn
Reddish tips for nipples and cheeks
weathered tones for feet
rugged strength for hands that work
finding their story
hair falling like a river fleet
At life drawing one day he dared ask
if a model would pose
in his studio for an oil painting
on a canvas stretched
in an antique frame of gold rose
The day was set and the hour made
for the model to be
in his studio by a bay of the sea
in his old shop
he felt as happy as a bumble bee
He rubbed is bald head
making it gleam
wondering about a scene
by the sea
or in a forest stream
A sunny day with seagulls down below
where the wind was blowing in
through the rigging of the yachts
sounding like a train
which always fascinated him
The pot belly stove was stoked
making the studio warm
with the paints squeezed out
of their little tubes
onto a palette hardly worn
A gentle knock at the door
"Do come in,
is it warm enough for you?"
"I think so."
She disrobed to begin
His heart fluttered to behold
her standing in sight
"Which way should I pose?"
"By the chair."
And the paint began to fly
Bristle brushes slashed the canvas
cutting through air
spreading paint with a palette knife
smeared with a rag
her naked beauty was captured there
Inspired by the model's presence
the artist grinned
this work seemed not to be by him
then the model glared
as her boyfriend barged in
"What are you doing here?"
they all said
then a hand smeared the canvas
the model screamed
the artist's bald head went quite red
Waking up in a hospital bed
a crack on the head
by a jealous model's lover man
with his troubled heart
and his beautiful painting now quite dead
The nurse shared the news
all on the radio
how the police came and arrested
both model and lover
for brawling in Mr Brown's painting studio
"And you arrived by ambulance,
unconscious too."
Traumatic memory haunted him now
with the cruel desecration
of a painting too good to be true
Pondering on this fickle finger of fate
and the many subjects for art
he decided that trees were safer by far
and that's how he found
a new passion for painting bark
Jaqi
Bluh
Saturday
22
June
2019
NOTE ~ I once had an art studio in an old shop by a bay of the sea, where the wind blew through the rigging of of the yachts, sounding like a train. But there was no train. The last train that ran in Bellerive was over a century ago. I have worked with the model in art all my life, male and female, but never had Mr Browns problem with a model. Adding the drama made the poem more interesting: but maybe there is a lesson in there for any hobby artist thinking to work with the model in art. The experienced artist remains alert to potential problems that might hop out to haunt. The British artist, Lucian Freud, once got into an argument with a taxi driver, and got a black eye out of that ..... which he made a painting of, as soon as he was back in the studio. Artist's are often rugged creatures, turning odd circumstances into art, rather than running away to paint bark, as a safe option.
