Repulsive Monkey

Swimming ... for Stiffness ?

2017-10-09T08:41:00.000+01:00

Every Sunday for the past few weeks, I have spent at least 45 minutes swimming a mile, or rather 1600 metres, in the lanes at the pool. (Yes, indoors. Yuk! I know). I've been using a combination of my fairly smooth-but-steady breast stroke and a lumpy form of freestyle. Among other things I've been trying to get the latter more coordinated and sustainable.

If I take a deep breath, I might now manage 4x25m freestyle, but then I get puffed and have revert to breast stroke (which I can do indefinitely, it seems). The development is as much about stroke coordination/efficiency as cardio response and body strength. Freestyle (front crawl), when it's broken down, has got about 43 discrete micro-actions, each of which can be done wrong in 11 ways and correctly in one or two. So there's all that theory, experiment, proprioception and observation to do. And there's the physical infrastructure. Lungs and muscles take several weeks and a range of Sunday lunches to change from state A to state B. This all takes dedication and patience. Taken together it's a nice mixture of challenges. Eventually I'd like to be able to do big chunk (1000 m?) of continuous freestyle without having to hold on to the ropes or sinking to the bottom.

Results? Apart from aches in parts of my shoulders that don't get used in the office, and perhaps a bit of general tone, I've noticed another less welcome effect. My legs seem to be 25 years older! For example, rather than springing out of the sofa during the ad break, I'm tempted to relax and enjoy the show. "Ah yes, that's an amazing whiter white, even on grass stains!". When I do get up (it feels like "out" of a huge gravity well), one leg turns into a block of wood and I hobble uncontrollably towards the screen. Hmm, I might also try a tiny bit of stretching, or even yoga. It might help, you never know.

Yoga with some differences

2017-02-25T13:26:00.002+00:00

Yoga's inescapable these days. I used to do a fair bit a few years ago, when it was more of a niche thing, but nowadays it seems to have become an Industry, complete with a uniform. I've got a stack of yoga books, including an excellent runner-oriented one (distance runners' hamstrings get short and tight, which you will notice in down-dog).

Never liked uniforms, as you know. Aha, what's this popping up on the ever-keen-to-interest-you Meetup? Naked Yoga in South London! It seems legit, and not a front for a muscle-boys' knocking shop (they have an app for that), so let's join. After a few weeks on lurking in the group, I register for a class.

It's run by Doria, whose site has got a few references to her naked yoga sideline (or it might be her core offer, I don't know), complete with press coverage and some nice studio shots of her. And were some of the images from a warm evening at Burning Man, I wonder, as it looks like some artistic structures/contraptions in the background on the sand?

Naked Yoga means practicing yoga without the contraints of clothing. There is a sense of freedom practising yoga naked: freedom from negative feelings about your body, and deeper connection with yourself and the world around you. While many equate being naked with sex, this couldn't be further from the truth in a naked yoga class. Naked Yoga is about being comfortable in your own skin and the amazing confidence that comes with it. It's about knowing, accepting and loving yourself at your core.

http://www.doriayoga.com/naked-yoga/

The studio is tucked away in XXXX road, a block or two away from where the A3 whizzes through on its way to Clapham Common. Shoes off at the foyer - good sign, and then up some little stairs to the studio proper. The building is a former warehouse? Small factory? Dunno, anyway it's converted light industrial about 150 years old with nice high rafters and a lovely weathered looking wooden floor. The floor's lovely and clean, thanks to the shoes-off arrangement.

I'm about the 3rd guest there. Doria's still putting mats out in a U, so I take time to admire the 6ft long model sailboat, which looks like the sort of thing that people used to race on ponds. Not sure what to do now ..., er, um. Aha, someone has taken their kit off and sat on his mat. I'll do that. People, mostly chaps, arrive as we do so, and go through their stretches. I improvise. Not sure I've got a pre-session Routine, so I find where the tension is and stretch those things. Shoulders mostly. Numbers are building up now, and finally we have 6 or 7 men and 2 women, plus instructor.

The added ingredients are : music (Doria's got a cute but effective Bluetooth speaker), lots of heat, and for me, a Vinyasa oriented approach. Removed ingredients are: clothes, light (just the red of the heaters, and some other very minor light sources, and presumably any inhibitions. I'm perfectly fine with the nudity : more concerned about the intensity of the practice.

I shouldn't have worried. Although there is some pretty strong work in the middle of the session, we start gently in corpse, then visualisation and intention-setting, before waking up the breath. There's a core routine in the Vinayasa sequence around which variations are built. Plank, Up-dog (or is it Cobra?), Down-Dog, Forward Bend. Tonight we are working within Warrior 1, Warrior 2 and Triangle. I spend a bit of time thinking "really?, there?" but I'm not bothered by my inadequacies. Doria gives numerous Option 1's for the less flexible to work on, so we don't need to gauge ourselves by the Option 3 crew. I do a lot of sweating!

Practicing without clothes is good. No scrunching or tightening of fabric anywhere at all. Heat can evaporate immediately, no damp patches. Having a glance at fellow practitioners is instructive too and makes more sense when nude. Not that I'm competing or ogling, but I feel I can get a sense of the intended pose by viewing a few examples. The anatomy is easier to read without interfering material.

The high energy aspects of the class then fade, and there's a lovely warm down sequence. Again we are in a corpse-like pose. Our teacher gets us into this state of active repose and then moves amongst the group. A fragrant energising oil, warmed by her palms, is offered to the temples as we rest, which seems to unite/vibrate/connect Heart-Throat-Forehead. We consider the effects of this, and of the practice, reflecting on our intention, and our (unfortunate?) need to re-enter the world and then we finish.

Swim summary: not as summery as before

2016-09-25T19:16:00.000+01:00

I will do sincere penance to the data integrity gods for failing to keep these posts In Their Proper Order. I posted about Swim 12 (or non-swim, as it turned out) having left you with only a data fragment from #8. Bad monkey!

Now where were we? Swims 9-11 could be characterised by quiet seasonal changes, and taking opportunities as they present themselves.

Swim 9 was from the Secret Spot with L, on an intermediately cloudy Friday morning a couple of weeks ago. The water was cool (14º?), but didn't perturb us too much. This time no dope-smokers on the sluice-gate (all back at school going over the learning objectives for the year). Some sunshine broke through here and there as we pottered upstream, reaching about 1 km from the start. And swooshed back down again, being regarded at one of the corners by the Big Brown Cow. Ducks and herons otherwise. Couple of submerged branches to contend with, which seemed to favour my (heavy?) legs rather than L's. A couple with a baby en papoose regarded us with a semi-interested expression as we clambered out. Until I fully emerged that is, and then they're off! Nothing like a naked ginger guy to disperse people, I find ;-).

Swim 10. The following week. Solo, from the Weir at 4pm. Bit earlier deliberately, to keep the sunset out of the equation. Weekday, so not much chance of muggles. Sunny, so there were a few. Get in without fuss, and puss along in the cool substance. Push the muscles along to generate some heat. The sun adopts a low position, and scatters its rays all around my grubby goggles. Floating apples, along with leafy debris, bump my nose, like Atlantic growlers along the hull of the craft. They give off yeasty, cider-like smells to warn of their approach.

I keep largely to breaststroke but insert some crappy bursts of what could pass for front crawl, keeping the breathing rate quite high. It occurs to me that I could improve my stroke given time and dedication. I seem to have got it to a basic level of competence now, with some ideas of what's going on within the cycle. I wonder if I will bother to adopt this as a project, or even cram in any pool swimming at all over the winter.

I do my usual mile, turning round at Trower's Bridge (28:16 upstream leg, 19:31 down). Water a comparatively toasty 17ºC. The air temp was a few notches higher. The previous day even more, which had helped.

Swim 11. Earlier this week. Someone I vaguely knew popped up on one of the Facebook outdoor swim groups asking if there were any takers for a swim further up the Wey, at Thundry Meadows.

This spot is in the meadowy meandering territory west of here, in the Elstead region. Having parked up on a tiny lay-by, and wandered through a slightly marshy approach (duckboards provided) I meet with B. How's it going man, have you seen X lately, done any more Y?

The river is guarded by a corral of electric fence, which is there to keep the herd of youthful black and white bullocks (Belted Galloway I believe) from getting stuck over the quite steep bank. Cattle like river banks as we know. We walk up to the entry point he's found, beyond a gate. He's got this fancy IR non-contact thermometer, and takes a reading in the low teens (12º?). In we go and down we paddle with the fairly brisk flow. The water is clearer too, and combed by snakey weeds. Hardly any floating leaf fall, in contrast to the Godalming reaches. The sun catches what look like floating sand crystals, but are actually resting insects. The meanders and various trees being half-in half-out mean that although the swimming isn't hard work, navigation is actively required. I think we do that for no more than 20 minutes, maybe less, escorted for some of the way by a fleet of nearly grown up ducks. The only other spectator is one of the bullocks who's found an easy beach to slurp the river from. He's up to his knees (or ankles, I'm not well up on bovine anatomy) with a dirty face. He stops his slurping to regard us going by. There is sunshine on every other twist, but it feels like a stolen margin of summer rather than the legitimate article.

B's been using the river for weeks it transpires. He tells me the spot was, over the high summer, frequented by a tiny amount of people, a few walkers and even some (female) skinny dippers (so we are not the only ones). An angler, the owner of the third vehicle in "our" lay-by, casts and draws, or whatever the fly-fishing term is, around 500 m downstream. When the ducks are quiet we can just about hear his ratchet whirring. The trees whisper whatever they whisper about. Cars whizz by on the road behind the trees, charging back home to Farnham after their day's work.

The exit is fun. Up the steep bank onto the lawn-like margin. Then under the electric fence, propping it up with a forked stick B has found/made. He hides that in a wood pile and we walk back to the start where I've left all my clobber. I'm thankful for the lush grass that the Galloways are happily munching, having left the usual Crocs back at home. It's nice to walk along with nothing on, being warmed by the sun, but when it goes behind a tree I'm reminded that it's nearly October, and lingering is out of the question. Thanks too for the Thermos. I will also bless the gods of nothingness, for keeping the vacuum that kept my tea warm.

Non-swim 12

2016-09-25T12:09:00.002+01:00

Yesterday's swim turned out to be a series of failed attempts.

4pm, earlier than the August swims. To the Weir (usual spot - see previous blog posts), past *dozens* of walkers on the path. Not a good thing in my book. A few boats including an odd looking narrowboat with a tall flue moored up at the Manor Inn beer garden.

Ugh what's this? Mystery oil slick on the water was off-putting, and spent ages inspecting it from the bank (bet it was out of the leaky engine of the antique narrowboat having passed through earlier), and then when I'd made the decision to go in anyway (Water: 14ºC), an angler turned up and stood right there casting, which put me off again. I asked him about whether he's noticed the oil slick. "Tench, perch sometimes", came the reply, in a sort of Polish accent. er, let's try again.

Cycled along the towpath to the secret upstream spot, well beyond the reach of boats. Which wasn't that secret: occupied by 2 or more boisterous yooofs yelling at each other. And that was the allotted hour gone. Still, it was a fairly nice randonée.

I'll tell you about Swim 11 when I get a chance. In-tress-ting.

Swim 8 data fragment

2016-09-02T08:48:00.000+01:00

An earlier start, but otherwise mostly the same as swim 7.
Upstream leg: 28:32; downstream: 19:31. 48:03 over 1650 m.
16 °C.
Total to date: 9100 m.

Swim 7, getting cooler, faster, and later

2016-08-31T21:44:00.000+01:00

6:25 pm. I repeat the same swim as reported last time, and more or less the time before that. We've had a cooler day, sort of overcast at times, so I wasn't expecting crowds of people on the bank.

Fresh earplugs in really tightly (don't want waterlogged ears any more than necessary), goggles on and wade in. Noticeably colder! I emit a sort of a hooff-hooff-hooff effect getting started, but there's no profanity. After five minutes the internal register goes from cold to cool, as I generate some heat.

There are a few ducks, which take off during the initial splashing. After that it's just me and the midges. There may be people on the bank, I don't know. Firstly I'm concentrating on the stroke (alternating breast stroke and crawl) and secondly my earplugs are too effective for chit chat.

Despite the slightly autumnal feel, it's a pleasant atmosphere. The sun tries to break out now and again, and illuminates the eastern bank with pale gold. Some of the trees have golden tinges anyway, rather than green. If there are fish, I can't see them. A few insects bother the water, but no birds are feeding on them tonight. Other birds get ready for bed. It's good to think about not much except flowing through water, the breath, and the passing of time. Daily thoughts from the inbox try and cling to my mind, but I'm adept at letting them float behind me.

Passing the Manor Inn beer garden slash play park, a gaggle of small kids laugh and wave. I wave back. I make Trowers bridge at 28:30. Back down to the start in 19 minutes or so. I wave, but not talk to quite a few joggers, some in large clumps (I think it's Waverley Harriers), plus a few other random walkers, runners and cyclists. All moving along at speed, going places, no Pokemon gathering, blackberry picking or loitering tonight.

I had the fish tied up on the side. 16 degrees C.

So that's another 1650 m, total now 7450 m. I might have to borrow a few days from September to make the August 10 km target! Busy work week coming up. The next swim might have to be the morning, or even closer to sunset.

As I pedal home, I have the lights on. Another sign of the season starting to turn.

Swim to Space 5 data dump

2016-08-27T13:56:00.001+01:00

Rather than a wordy post about the latest swim, here's some Big Data.

Date 27/08/2016, Time: 09:34
Grid Reference: SU 989453 to SU 983449 and back
Duration : Upstream : 30 minutes
Duration : Downstream : 21 minutes
Distance : 1650 m
Swimming Total to date : 4150 m

Cyclists : 8
Walkers (dog, blackberry picking, or generic) : 20
- talkative : 5 (other than hello/grunt)
- "amazing how delightful, may I take a picture?" : 1
Dogs (swimming) : 2
Canoes : 2
Narrow boats : 1 (approx 10 on board)
Other swimmers : 0

Fish : Unknown
Geese : 10
Ducks : 4
Heron : 2
?Swallows : 25
Feeding on : tiny little insects on the surface : 10^5
Sunshine : yes
Clouds : yes
Magic : yes

Swim to Space 4

2016-08-26T08:05:00.001+01:00

River Wey 30 minutes, 18 C. 900 m.

Cycle via Broadwater Park and Lake (the former full of people enjoying the sun, the latter the usual fowl and blue-green algae), to the usual getting in spot, having left it late to avoid the gangs of Pokemon harvesters. Thankfully we seem to be past the peak on that one. But wait, there's an angler sitting there. Don't want to get involved with him, or experience any collision of tackle.

Pedal up and down for a bit to see what the rest of the bank is like. Limited choice, due to the many reedy clumps (of which I approve - more shelter for wild things). Also, survey the stream connecting the lake and the river. It looks a teeny bit grimy and green, but not too algae-ridden. A bunch of little black fry (young fish) are busy gobbling up the nutrients from there, so that's some algae taken care of. Mental note to steer to the opposite bank when passing this outflow.

Having picked a spot, wade in. Wow it's really warm, compared to the last few times. Fix googles and ears, and paddle across. Tie the thermometer to hanging branch.

Plan is to go upstream for 20 minutes, and down for 10, and to see where that takes me. Back here hopefully.

This section is a series of bends, all roughly the same geometry. It could be natural, I don't know, but it's also part of the Wey navigation. There are some houses on the town side, but it's all fields to the south-east. Elsewhere on the Wey, there are distinct canal sections cutting corners and leaving the natural river to meander behind the cuts. See blogs passim.

The flow is not arduous today, so upstream work is quite acceptable. The sun glows on certain patches, and hides behind the taller trees. I'm facing it so when I'm sunlit I can just see lens flare. Floating leaves try and cover my face. There are occasional clouds of insects, but they are all little harmless ones. I don't notice any birds or big fish. I have to dodge one pleasure craft. As suspected it's too late in the day for hire boats from the Boat House.

Talk to a pair of passers-by (muggles?). Mum is amazed that there's someone actually in there. Wow! You're swimming? Is it clean? Do you do triathlons? (Me: Yes I am, yes I think it is, no just free range things). [To 15 y-o daughter] you should do this maybe. (Yes you should).

As sort of predicted, I make it as far as the beer garden of the Manor Inn, where they have a mooring place. Too many people, quick turn around. And the time is getting on. Much easier on the way back, because of the current obviously, but also swimming stroke is more organised. Lose count of the bends, it seems they've put an extra chicane in since I came up. Ah there's the orange rubber fish on my thermometer, I'm nearly there. Untie it, holding the string in my teeth as I swim back across to the left bank. Get out on schedule.

There are not too many days left in August to build up 10 km! This swim : 900 m (with a liberal application of trig to work out the distance). Total to date 1800. I'd better include Swim to Space 3 : umpteen laps of a tiny pool at our holiday apartment in Crete. For which I will book in a very generous 700 m (30 C!) for the whole week. 2500 m total.

I need two swims like this per day to reach the target.

Swimming to Space 1 and 2

2016-08-03T15:36:00.001+01:00

I volunteered myself to be part of a group at work running, cycling, swimming and other forms of effort to raise money for Surrey Air Ambulance. Please head over to our money-gathering page to demonstrate support. The basic idea is that as a group we can build up 400 km, which just happens to be the distance to the ISS (when vertically overhead of course). The money goes to SAA because they lifted one of our colleagues out of trouble having sustained a big cycling injury.

Here's our Race To Space entry on the main Race to Space site.

Swim 1

To a Secret Spot in Godalming with book-group friend Liz (who once mentioned the idea of wild swimming and got me for an answer). Regular readers of this blog will know that I've dabbled, more than dabbled, in the outdoor swimming lark in the past. Sadly, all my Godalming swimmer friends have swum off elsewhere, so glad to have company again.

Monday night. Overcast, slight drizzle. Having locked the bikes, down to the river. It's got a tendency to look overgrown and deserted on this bit of the meadow (quite near Peperharow Road) but it's quite well used. Students from Charterhouse traipse through here all the time, and it's a good jogging and dogwalking route.

At the nose of a meander, there's a little sandy beach, wide enough for one. Once prepared, we wade in, pausing to tie the thermometer to a bramble. It shelves steeply, so there's no standing up allowed. We go upstream. Hands get quite chilly for a couple of minutes. No swearing necessary, but I wish I could stand to wave them about. The flow is reasonably quick. Water is sandy, but generally free of debris.

There are various weirs and ditches along the Wey to control the flow. At the point where the ditch draws off some water there's a concrete construction. Good enough for smallish group of teenagers to sit on, while they smoke their, um, smoking materials.

Is it cold in there?

Chilly I would say.

I would never do that!!

On we go, dodging submerged branches occasionally. Breast stroke hardly gets one anywhere, so I try a few blasts of crawl. We eventually make it to another obvious corner, where's there's another copy of the sandy nose, walk out and peek around. We can see a meadow and some farm vehicles.

Going back the other way is much easier. We go sideways round the bends as the current carries us. Clamber out, and check the temperature. 16 or 17 degrees C it says.

Google maps measurement : 560 m.

Swim 2

Wednesday Lunchtime. Bright and breezy. Cycle along the towpath to check water conditions.

Past a usual entry spot opposite the weir, and onwards. I'm curious about the twisty natural path of the Wey, as opposed to the Navigation which is straight and orderly. The section I'm talking about is 1.5 km downstream of Farncombe boat house. It's a bit impractical to get to the natural section at thw weir itself, so I keep going to where the two streams merge, near Broadford Bridge. After a bit of scouting I pick an entry spot.

The bottom is rocky, and I'm glad of my Crocs. This time I carry the thermometer, and tie it to a branch once I've made it across the width of the canal. The flow is strong, and the river is not that wide (certainly no wider than a canal) so I have to pump to keep ahead.

Although it's not really natural, it's a lot more nature-like than the canalised river. Quite a bit of debris on the water, but all harmless: bits of tree and grass, and quite a few downy feathers. Quick list of detectable fauna: cows, dragonflies, geese, a kingfisher (or at least a glistening green missile, so must have been) and a heron or two. There's almost nowhere to get back up the bank, since the trees have colonised the margin.

I push along until I think I've had enough, and also not wanting to get too close to the geese, who are having a flapping session on the water. It also starts to smell/taste a bit, well, ducky.

Swoosh back to the start point, effortlessly.

Then clamber out, eroding the bank slightly, oops!

The NT, owners of this stretch of towpath, have been beefing up the banks, leaving wires exposed in some cases. Thereby perversely encouraging more erosion on the parts they haven't staked and braced.

Swimming time about 20 minutes altogether. Thermometer reads 17 ºC. 400 m on the map (which also shows I have so much more to explore).

Total so far 960 m.

_ Swimming to Space 1 and 2

2016-08-03T15:36:00.000+01:00

Swim 1

Is it cold in there?

Chilly I would say.

I would never do that!!

Swim 2

Wednesday Lunchtime. Bright and breezy. Cycle along the towpath to check water conditions.

Past a usual entry spot opposite the weir, and onwards. I'm curious about the twisty natural path of the Wey, as opposed to the Navigation which is straight and orderly. The section I'm talking about is 1.5 km downstream of Farncombe boat house. It's a bit impractical to get to the natural section at thw weir itself, so I keep going to where the two streams merge, near Broadford Bridge. After a bit of scouting I pick an entry spot.

The bottom is rocky, and I'm glad of my Crocs. This time I carry the thermometer, and tie it to a branch once I've made it across the width of the canal. The flow is strong, and the river is not that wide (certainly no wider than a canal) so I have to pump to keep ahead.

Although it's not really natural, it's a lot more nature-like than the canalised river. Quite a bit of debris on the water, but all harmless: bits of tree and grass, and quite a few downy feathers. Quick list of detectable fauna: cows, dragonflies, geese, a kingfisher (or at least a glistening green missile, so must have been) and a heron or two. There's almost nowhere to get back up the bank, since the trees have colonised the margin.

I push along until I think I've had enough, and also not wanting to get to close to the geese, who are having a flapping session on the water. It also starts to smell/taste a bit, well, ducky.

Swoosh back to the start point, effortlessly.

Then clamber out, eroding the bank slightly, oops!

The NT, owners of this stretch of towpath, have been beefing up the banks, leaving wires exposed in some cases. Thereby perversely encouraging more erosion on the parts they haven't staked and braced.

Swimming time about 20 minutes altogether. Thermometer reads 17 ºC. 400 m on the map (which also shows I have so much more to explore).

Total so far 960 m.

Life Modelling 3 and a bit

2013-10-13T18:56:00.001+01:00

I took part in another Spirited Bodies day, somewhat similar to those previously reported, and then again, nothing like. This one was in collaboration with London Drawing and was entitled A Human Orchestration.

Part 0 : arrive, greetings, briefings, rehearsals. Getting used to the space, a classical revival church in what is now called Waterloo, i.e. over the road from the big station.

Part 1 : artists sit on chairs and on the floor. The London Drawing crowd are quite out there drawing wise (do chck out all their amazing flickr sets), so already there are odd things being done with coloured paper. There are 50 ish artists of all ages, plus 20 or so of us amateur models pretending to be artists also. We dispersed amongst them, which is a strange sensation. some eye contact goes on, but poker faces are on. Various welcomings and briefings take place, and instead of models entering and drawing starting, the verbiage dwindles to nothingness. Waiting. Sharpening of pencils. Fidgeting.

I ask the London drawing person next to me what the hashtag was. She mis-hears, and I get Hashtags 101, albeit from someone who didn't use twitter. (It's #ahumanorchestration, by the way.)

As arranged, Esther, the agent provocateuse of Spirited Bodies, grins and pads around (I'm pretty sure she has at least one cat in her ancestry), and whispers to someone. Who disrobes. And stands.

Ah, ok, him! Artists swivel to him, draw, scribble etc.

Esther has now made another secret signal, and again an artist becomes a model in situ. Oh, her as well! Draw draw draw. (I actually get a proper 10 minute drawing done at this stage). Each model gets a two minute head start on the next. Another whisper, oh my turn now. Clothes off. Stand up. Hands on hips.

This goes on until all the models are revealed. After about and hour of such simple standing and sitting poses, the process is reversed. One by one each model dresses and returns to normality.

It seems to me as if this community of artists are more exploratory than those I normally see (especially in my own work). Marks are made with more things, and on more things than simple graphite, ink, paper. Shapes are looser and less representative. There are tearings and cuttings!

Part 2: I'll try and be brief, but it's complicated.

We stand in a line in the middle of the hall, regarding the gallery. Christine, also nude, utters a powerful singing sound which penetrates the air and reverberates. Their choir now answers, less pure but with a greater number of voices. Christine attempts a different sound, not singing. We emulate it, falling over the syllables. There are noises given, considered, and replied. I think of these sounds, with the Doppler shifts. Are these aircraft overhead? Is the city under attack? We survive by fending off with our voices again and again. Christine tries to emit something like an explosion BOM! which is then defended. The sounds become lyrical again. the singer descends the stairs, and joins the line, which coils inward in a procession into itself. Now we are a circular unit of two ranks. Ursula stands at the centre and leads the singing, formed of utterances, murmurs gasps and hums, ocasional pats and slaps on the body. It's not call/response now but a river of sound. Sometimes there are wordlets or runs of words that float along. Mostly not, just abstractions. A baaaaa badda laaaa dum DMUMMMM very nice DAY! To be dadda Nice Body! Ahhh ummmm! We have no idea how, but somehow by listening and using something in our mouths and brains, a texture emerges. Not coherent or meaningful exactly but spiritually extremely human. From the middle of the group, down here on the carpet, it sounds fantastic. Out in the body of the hall, in the air of the high ceiling, it must sound even better.

Visually laid out, this might look like papier mâché, overlaid with a variety of doodles and half-recognisable shapes, jumbled and scrunched. But somehow looking warm and almost natural.

We just stand still for a while (poor artists having to work with that racket!) and then round off the piece with another 10 minute stanza of randomwork. And then exit, exultant.

Having re-robed, we can listen in to the artists' discourse. They are obviously warming up and responding to the performance. The leaders of the group attempt to draw some meaning together from the 200 or so small works now on the floor, but it obvious that another unconscious communication is taking place amongst the artists as well as it was in the choir. Most of the works have a unity in themselves and some echoes of each other, and people have been using marks and colours to show the sound images as well as the figures.

Part 3:

Finally, something more like a standard SB production. We are gatherered in a group on a stage at various levels, making a rough pyramidal arrangement of 20 (or 22?). The tableau exists for a hour, though we models may adjust ad lib. Music in 18 parts throbs in the background (You know, by Steve Reich, it goes dib-dib-dib-dib-dib for 96 bars then -dob-dob-dob-dob-shimmer-shimmer-dob-dob-dob- ... Ideal art production music if you ask me). I intently gaze at the light fitting opposite, trying to stop my foot from going to sleep. Artists scribble, measure, cut, scribble and sweep their arms around as if making bold marks. I count the bars dob dob dob dob while ignoring the painful foot. Artists glance, look down, glance, look down, scribble, up, think, scribble. dib dib dib dib. Foot goes numb num num num and finally must be moved.

I've tried drawing multiple figures (chiefly in SB workshops) and it's really hard. It's fascinating to see people work out the same process, and I can see some confident work developing. Here an artist has made a life sized outline of his own body, and is now filling it with drawings of each of the figures on display; he darts about making drawings from vantage points all around. Here a man works on a wide work made of variegated panels, carefully but boldly measuring each person's frame. Here a cutout portion is aimed and positioned and glued, and another cutout grouping brought alongside to support it.

And finally we end. Applause! A bow! More applause!! Final exit, accompanied by applause!

The work now is amazing, really together and bold. The floor is literally covered with work, and almost every other piece is a corker. I hope the LD do their usual flickr upload soon so that you can see it. These are mostly not academic figure studies but more chewy enjoyable figurescapes. Most of the models are fascinated. Those few modelling for the very first time are probably thinking oh my god there's me, my big chest, awful stomach, etc. Hopefully also thinking that might be me, or not, but we don't look too bad. Today, I'm more interested in the general appearance of things and spend hardly more than a second checking myself out in chalk or ink.

There's a final repeat of the lightweight crit/seminar thing and then dispersal. Some of the models yearn for alcohol to add to the natural highs of the event. I think a few escape though ... Note to self, check out location of decent pub in advance, and chalk it up somewhere obvious.

Most of us are amazed at the outcome. There were at least a couple of first time models in the group. I hope they don't think life drawing always goes off like that!

Life Modelling 2

2012-12-17T18:28:00.003+00:00

More about the Spirited Bodies group life modelling project, as mentioned previously on Repulsive Monnkey.

To SB's Christmas event in Mortlake, London. A day out doing art, but not drawing. On the train there, I sneakily sketched two ladies on the train. A thought crossed my mind - are these two going to what I'm going to? I'm not a subscriber to theories of type, but, well, they looked the type. They also had the spare bags containing what could have been bathrobes, just like my spare bag. And there was something arty about them ... Maybe not as they turned left out of the station where I went right.

Arrived mega early (a dilapidated church hall) and helped Esther shift chairs and make signs. Then brought in the mulled wine apparatus from Lucy's car. More people arrived in dribs and drabs, some artists, but mostly other people modelling.

A couple I knew from the workshop in November, including Richard Moon, who is a regular model. Really keen on life modelling he say, and busy with it, especially for the older gent. Artists love us, he says, we are so much more interesting to look at than the 20-year olds. As we were talking, and setting up easels, in walk the two from the train! Aha you! Aha you back! Turned out they'd popped to the pub.

When enough of us had gathered (~12 models), Esther took us through the posing plan. After a few quickies, we were to do Dance, followed by Raft of the Medusa, then the Last Supper, then whatever comes to mind. Esther positioned us like mannequins in rough alignment (printout in hand), talked through the logic of the poses and scattered sheets and cushions. We giggled and ummed and ahhed and wondered where our hands, feet, etc were going to land with respect to other models' faces, chests, legs etc. We were advised about sightlines, holding of poses, taking rests and such. Rehearsals done, bouncy Richard led us through a bit of a warmup. Note to self: get a lightweight yukata or something, as my fluffy bathrobe is too warm for warmups.

By this time, there were loads of artists getting set up (40 altogether), and we were nearing the kick-off time, or should that be strip-off time.

I've read other accounts of first-time modelling nerves (or naturist beach going nerves, equivalently), and of the dreaded first five minutes. There's an account of this emotion in this (deep breath) Daily Mail piece written by the journalist Lydia Slater who "braved" a previous SB event.

Not with me so much! First 50 milli-seconds more like. After that I'm basically doing the work. I know full well that the artists are just getting on with their jobs, and the pro models (of which one of my morning sketch targets was one) are doing theirs so I'm mainly thinking about whether the quick poses have anything to draw in them. As advised, I keep going around the clock face so that the artists get a change of scene. We run through our little repertoire of 1, 2, 3, 4 minute poses. Some of the younger people throw some wild shapes. I basically stand or stretch, and knowing full well that my bum looks big in this, try and shape my tum (abs, what are abs?) without appearing to be bothered by the process.

The models are 6 guys, with Richard, 67 at one end of the demographic and I guess Rui (another regular life model) at the other (25?). Me, along with two other 40's blokes, in the middle. Womankind is represented by a clutch of students of various ages and dimensions but all basically young, a yoga teacher in her 20's (incredibly lithe/slim, probably an elf actually), and my two friends from the 11:54 from Clapham Junction, who are 50-something and maybe more.

For the first dance-based pose, Julie (of the train) and I pose together. Julie life models fairly frequently (as well as keeping beautifully fit). She's quite sceptical, in a warm advisory way, of me holding my hand up for the entire pose (1 hour). She's got a neat trick of resting her elbow on her hip. Sure enough, my arm gets fairly tired, but it's manageable. Here's the tai chi bit : I make sure there's plenty of peng jin, and that my back is full and the arm shape rounded. I don't see what the others are doing, though a ballet bar comes in handy for some. The artists all scratch and scribble, and Miles Davis poops away quietly in the background. Lucy and Esther (the gaffers) wander around beaming at us and admiring the developing artwork.

Here's one of Julie, I'm the pile of twigs in the background, asking her if she'd like to do a twirl.

Then we regroup and form the dreaded Raft of the Medusa. There is no Hope! We're all going to Die! I've elected to play the part of Man-who-encourages-the-damned-to-take-heart-for-there-is-a-distant-sail. Again, a foolish arm-in-air pose. Others flop and lie around. The lucky ones sit or prop on the footstool, and bold Richard "waves" (in reality he gets the pole to rest a hand on). This is very challenging, but a unique way to spend an hour.

I can imagine the conversations: So what did you do when you were in London my dear? Well father, I and another dozen people, mostly strangers, went to a church, but not to pray, but we all took off our clothes and piled together in the middle of the room at odd angles on a heap of old cushions. Another group of people paid money to watch, and to record the scene.

The tableau is clearly appreciated by the artists, and we models took pride in the posing. Esther is delighted and takes a few photos (these have not been cleared yet, so you'll have to imagine them). As predicted, my flying arm gets upset. The first 20 minutes were bad, maybe it's the ambient music, but no, my arm complains about being still, and bearing its own weight. The second twenty minutes was a battle of will between my and my nervous system. The ambient music doesn't go anywhere. Then it started to hurt. Aggh! Wobble!! The prone models didn't seem much happier, and at least I had space to move and re-adjust, so maybe my pose wasn't so foolish.

The break was very festive, and a chance to catch up on the artwork, mulled wine and stollen. Re-robed for the walk-around (seems to be the etiquette) I met someone I knew from ULU drawing (which I hadn't been to lately, so we chatted about that). It's plausible that this (dark pink paper) is her drawing, I'll have to check.

Next one-hour pose was the Last Supper. Heavily modified to work in 360 degrees, as well as taking some liberties with, say, the gender of our Saviour. This was much more fun, as Esther brought the mulled wine around and placed in the model's hands. Excellent!

That's me on the end, before the wine cup got drawn in. The full frontal, next, of the table shows more or less how this tableau related to the famous picture.

And finally we rounded off with a half-hour anything you want pose. By this time all the models were very friendly. Well, imagine a bunch of 12 mates had piled in for a sleepover in the front room, but sans pajamas. You would be fairly friendly wouldn't you?

I mentioned all of this to one of my students at work (a fairly grownup one), in answer to the standard "did you have a nice weekend" type question.

"Ohh, really, life modelling, ohh ? I suppose it's quite liberating?"

"Well, it depends, probably for the target audience. Me, my shoulder's a bit stiff now".

PS, if you like the sound of this and want to know more, do get in touch with the Spirited Bodies people via their website or Facebook page. They are looking to build up to charitable status, and are looking for supporters/sponsors, use of venues and other such things. Maybe some IKEA bags would come in handy for the cushions.

Life Modelling

2012-11-15T23:25:00.000+00:00

EDIT: recursive link from Spirited Bodies.
http://spiritedbodies.com/2012/11/21/developing-in-the-workshop/

In a life drawing class a few weeks ago, the model announced that she was part of a group called Spirited Bodies, and that they were on the lookout for more models and artists. The aim of SB is a "Community encouraging people to love their bodies as they are, in particular finding body confidence and inner peace via life modelling in a group", its mission to "empower people to have a positive body image, and focus more within" and it runs "Multi-Life Modelling Events where people may recast their body consciousness".

I think, and I could well be wrong about this, the target person is someone who feels that because they don't fit a Barbie/Ken sterotype there is something wrong with them and they shouldn't be seen in public, let alone with no clothes on. Those who know me would not associate me with lack of body confidence I'm sure, but I'm certainly not a standard issue action man either. Because the sessions involve lots of models I thought this was a low pressure route into life modelling, so I duly put myself forward.

Tonight, I participated in a preparatory workshop in Clapham, involving two of the organisers, 8 models and 4 artists. It was Ve-ry In-ter-esting ...

Bit of strange space (computer training room with a vaguely open area in the middle), and a tentative start, but then it settled down. Unlike a normal life class, there was lots of stopping and starting and a bit of talking. People took in turns to pose, given various directions "two minutes, convey a strong emotion" and the rest drew. Pointers of a practical nature were offered and discussed. Various small groups were formed and switched. Doodles/sketches shown at the end. Friendships formed.

So there we are, I now have nearly 20 minutes experience as a life model! Woo!

Aside from standing in one place not talking for minutes at a time, I found the idea of generating the pose the hardest work. I thought "righto I'll try THIS". It might be good, or boring, or hard to hold, and being a noob consists of a lot of trial and error, it seems. Unlike doing a presentation, once the pose is set, there's no playing around with it. If if doesn't work you just have to lump it and do different next time. It's also a bit of challenge working In The Round (I'm so used to rectangular spaces, with me up at one end). I can see why SB place emphasis on the workshops!

Having a Tai Chi background definitely helped. Not only in standing practice, but also in having a repertoire of ready dynamic poses ready to roll. The main event is later in the year, when there will be dozens of models and even more artists. More reflections to come in the fullness of time.

Don't care about your gender, but may I just say ...

2012-10-15T13:58:00.000+01:00

Quite an interesting naturist swim night at Alton (previously on Repulsive Monkey).

Because I don't go that often, and knowing that traditional naturist functions might be on the decline, I do sometimes worry that the session won't be there especially if not enough people go. I guess the leisure centre think it's worthwhile. I got there about mid way, and there were noticeably more people there. At least given the number of shoes in the changing room. The leisure centre open up the two (M and F) group changing rooms, but naturist couples tend to go to either as a couple (why get shy about stripping off separately for two minutes, only to rejoin unclothed?) so I saw a few female shoes amongst the clumpy male ones.

Once in the pool, it's possible to see what the turnout is like. About the same gender ratio as usual: about 5 women to the 30 men, and the same sort of demographics.

They appeared to me to be the regulars (I'm a semi-regular at best), but a few newbies, including, gasp! some youngish people. One slightly younger person, to whom I'd spoken casually before (I think I'd said something about a tattoo some months ago) now looked a bit different. The tattoo project had come along nicely (a sinuous floral design around the side and back, not too dense, subtle colours), but also something about her body had changed. Hair, legs, breasts all the same, but hang on ... no more penis.

Flashback to about a year ago, doing the same sort of who's in tonight mental survey: Man, Man, Man, Woman, Man, Man, Woman ... no hang on, a Bit of Both! So my first live in the flesh transgender person then. I guessed that for this person, or indeed any person who might feel uncomfortable in a conformist situation, swimming is easier in a naturist environment, which nominally at least is based on liberalism of the body's actual condition, as opposed to having it conform to an ideal (especially an unseen ideal). I had no idea initially if this was a she becoming a he, or the other way, or neither, and nor did I feel it proper to enquire. Over subsequent swims (several weeks/months, including chatting about body decs), it appeared likely that whatever the story, the trajectory was towards female.

... and Back to the other night.

I had to ask: had it taken a long time/trouble etc? I don't think I was being prurient, and maybe I was motivated by a desire to empathise. Apparently not: lots of counselling, and hormones, but the actual operation wasn't a big thing for her, just a bit of "donor organ" that she didn't need. I put forward my little theory that a naturist environment is quite a bit more accepting of, shall we say, unconventional physical configurations. She agreed, though not wholeheartedly. Not that this was the reason for coming to naturist swimming nights (i.e. as the only stare-free option available for someone who might not be accepted in either changing room), as her parents were naturists of old so it was all quite normal.

I also talked to another woman, who turned out to know quite a few people and places I know from my work life, so physicists and hangers-on of various sorts. This all started from one of those weather-type conversations: "in my day our computers 'ad beige keyboards, terrible they were", "luxury! we 'ad to work on steam-powered teletypes", etc etc conversations. I didn't expect to be talking about computing architectures, the scientific end of the civil service, EXAFS and other forms of spectroscopy, but there you go. Small world.

Sketchbook Update

2012-06-04T18:04:00.003+01:00

Here are some art-related uploads to Flickr.

Draw: Gesture. Class described previously.

Recent Holborn and ULU drop-in classes.

There of more of each sort in the respective sets.

These are flagged as Moderate in Flickr, so you'll have to log into your Flickr account and set your Safety preferences accordingly, if you want to see the nudes.

Tutored class : Drawing in the British Museum.
The concept of this one was a more experimental approach to drawing, as you can see. Working from the objects on display, and catching a couple of visitors.

Draw : Gesture Workshop

2012-06-03T13:08:00.000+01:00

To Brighton for D's birthday, where we mooched around and ate food, and I stared at another naked person for two hours.

(Birthday was nice thanks, Terre à Terre was smashing, as usual, and also a shout out to the Prince George - more delicious veggie grub and a decent pint. Apart from that Brighton was up to its usual standard. We ambled around the shops, glanced at the sea, avoided the semi-ritualistic EDL shoutfest, and even sipped a Jubilee themed cocktail).

In the morning, I dropped into one of Draw's workshops, this one on Gesture Drawing. This is basically about capturing the essence of a pose in a short time.

Draw's HQ is in a rather unprepossessing, if not downright brutal, tower block in that slopey bit of territory between the high ground of the station and the low level of the Old Steine. Inside, it's all industrial paint finishes, exposed concrete and boomy acoustics. I can imagine a Blake's 7 episode being filmed there. But entering the studios is a surprise. It's a bit like Second Life actually, everything's very plain and cut and paste, stylistically, then you turn a corner and you are in someone else's head. The Draw space is filled with bits and bobs of costumes, piles of props, shelves full of materials and books. Floaty white cloth on the tall windows distributes the light, and there are chairs and easels around.

Having gathered a quorum of artists (I got the impression that the start time was more of a suggested aim rather than a scheduled event), Jake introduced the class concept, the relationship of this workshop to the others and to the untutored drop-ins, and the model (Laura).

We started by drawing without looking. OK we looked a bit (can't help it!), but the idea was to work with the eyes and the model primarily, following the features with the drawing implement. We did a bunch of those, switching between 2-3 minute poses, before then allowing some looking ("look at the model more than the paper"), again with rapid switching of poses. Laura had her work cut out, having to spin around on her little dais so that we all got some physical variety.

The results of the blind drawings were quite scary-looking, so are probably not going to be published. EDIT: some on Flickr. Mine looked like a violent struggle had taken place on the paper, whereas others' were evocative of repetitive therapeutic movements, possibly within the scope of a medical treatment of some kind. All very entertaining!

Advice was then given on the quality of lines to aim for : keying the important lines to the significant structure (some anatomical insight being vital); using the emotional aspect of the pose as a cue to the style of mark-making; iterating the confident, expressive line, rather than scratching a series of tentative ones. This all seemed credible, but slightly harder to put into practice. Perhaps I could have done with some demonstrations or some feedback on what I was doing.

And so we progressed, fortified by tea and the solidarity of the company, toward the slightly longer realm of the 10 minute pose. We were encouraged to treat the first 2-3 minutes of the drawing as an exercise in itself, using the remaining time for an upgrade of the initial sketch. Drawing holistically is much more successful than working from top to bottom or left to right. Amongst other things, it's more likely that the scale of the drawing is going to be self-consistent, which saves time in the end, and makes a composition more successful.

All in all, a useful provocative and energising class. I'm going to have to work it through somehow, of course by doing more drawing, but maybe a bit of reading, probably starting with my Betty Edwards The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, or perhaps Kimon Nicolaides' The Natural Way to Draw.

Visit to Abbey House Gardens

2012-06-01T08:38:00.000+01:00

I had a very enjoyable afternoon getting naked in someone else's garden last weekend. Here's a trip report.

Readers in the UK may be familiar with Abbey House Gardens in Malmesbury, Wiltshire. It's a quite a well-known ornamental garden, er, what's that ghastly word, attraction, that happens also to have several clothing-optional days each year. The owners are themselves naturists, who some time ago they thought to start an experiment, thinking that it would be interesting to see how naturists and clothed visitors might interact. These is somewhat different from when a naturist club takes over a regular venue for a designated period. On such occasions the only visitors are those who know about it in advance. Alton Towers, for example. has annual downtime on its rides though their leisure pool remains open, and so there's a BN-organised visit to the site that weekend. At AHG, however, they take the perhaps bold view that there's no need to close the site to everyone, merely to place enough notices at the entrance and on the website to "warn" the clothed constituency.

So how does it go? Quite well, as it happens. The existence of these days is pretty well-known in the naturist scene, so I've been planning to go along for at least a couple of years. Usually, there's been some sort of excuse not to go, apart from laziness, like poor weather or a family do. Last weekend was bright and warm (hot even), and D was wrapped up in OU work, so off I went. We'd visited the gardens once before after a WOMAD festival, so even if the place was going to be full of weirdos, I knew it wasn't going to be dreadful afternoon.

Having driven along a very warm M4, I park at the town pay and display (very full), and yomp up the steps to the old town and Abbey. What's this? Through the not-very-opaque fence/screen on the garden boundary, one can just see naked men and women ... Past the special signs, pause at the ticket hut to pay (I was expecting a "you do know it's nudie day" spiel but no comment was offered), and I go in. It all looks normal; lots of formal hedges, topiary and sculpture, with interesting planting distributed artfully, all looking in excellent order. The first visitors I see, in the first of the garden areas, is a family sat around a table looking a bit glum as if their favourite team's just been relegated. Perhaps they all take mood cues from their two teenagers, who look especially non-plussed. And on then through a leafy arch into the bit where the tea shop is, and here we are in a swirl of nudity! About 30 people milling around in the buff. There are some people wearing clothes, but not many. Perhaps the Glums were not impressed, and had retreated to consider their options.

Changing, or rather unclothing, is done in what is usually the (covered) restaurant section off from the tea garden. Carrier bags containing visitor's clothes are spread around, each numbered with a ticket. Ian himself sits numbering bags. I got number 389 (don't know if they started with 001). It reminds me of the kit area at a road race, there are that many bags. The teashop, with a least three staff, is working furiously to keep up with demand. Clearly, there's no problem with visitor numbers!

Having de-clothed, I have a more extensive look around. The main gardens have various areas, and the two lawns are both full of people, walking around (there is so much planting and sculpture to see and admire), or lying or sitting on towels, some having picnic lunches. There must be more than 150 visitors just by a quick count, probably more. Amongst them are perhaps a dozen people wearing any clothes at all, several of whom are with their naturist partners. It seems an ideal environment for the "mixed" couple or family. As you might expect, there is a bit of a male bias, but there are plenty of couples and groups, and even a couple of families with young children.

The atmosphere is very convivial and chatty, more like a garden party than a standard open garden, certainly at the upper level of the site, where the formal aspects are more developed. Behind the Abbey house, the ground falls down to river (Avon?) level, by means of a series of labyrinthine zig-zag paths and steps. This is the area that's vaguely glimpsed from the nearby footpaths. There are many things to see down here, both living and man-made, and the feel is not so formal, more loose and free.

Eventually I reach the river level. There's a natural theme to the garden here, with the river being crossed by a footbridge, a little hut/pagoda on an island, and some water features. The planting is also beautiful (and labelled by species).

Again, there are chatty visitors walking around alone or in small groups, a couple of families with younger children, and a score of people lying on the lawn. Clothing is very unusual to see. It's hard to find a free spot, but I do find a space to sit, where I draw some of the grounds, especially the art, but also the people.

Drawing is a nice way to get talking to people, being fairly unintrusive, and people like to be drawn or to talk about their own supposed lack of skill. "I wish I could draw, but I really can't". I have to dispute this, in the nicest possible way: "There's no big secret to it (though there are some tricks). Just draw what you see, hundreds of times, and be prepared to do it better next time".

Some discussion ensues about the suitability of the river for swimming. Certainly the hundreds of tiny fish seem to like it. It looks shallow, clear, and not too fast, so in I go. The bottom is soft and squishy with alluvium but once I'm in properly it's extremely nice. I do a couple of lengths (not knowing where it goes after the footbridge!) turn around and hop out. No messing about with cossies or towels, just jump in and out, and let the sun do the drying.

That's the essence of naturism for me: no fuss, no membership card, no elaborate rituals. It's simple enjoyment of the elements, the body and its senses, and friendly company.

Clover Spa Review

2012-05-07T18:30:00.002+01:00

To Birmingham for a trade show, so instead of the usual boxy hotel I opted for a night at Clover Spa.

This is a small hotel with attached spa (also on the pocket size). The main thing about it is that it's naturist. I'd heard about over the last couple of years through the naturist press and on forums and such like. It's been running for a couple of years now, but I hadn't got organised enough to go.

As you might imagine, naturists tend towards the German way of doing things when it comes to spa etiquette. That is, the view that getting all the kit off leads to a much better experience than squirming about in shorts or towels. So the usual discourse is usually along the lines of "why can't UK facilities (e.g. steam rooms and saunas) be as comfortably textilfrei as the Germans'" and "why do the massage staff at Spa X insist on messing about with a stupid modesty-towel - why don't they just get on with it". It's presumably this audience that Clover Spa is going for, but at the same time it's promoting itself along luxury lines, so as to attract a general clientele.

So off we go. Physically, it's basically a guest house in a quietish suburban district (within Erdington, I think), with a few other such properties along the same road. There's a generous amount of parking, if you have to drive... though I found the nearby Chester Road railway station a comfy walk. This is served several times an hour from Birmingham New Street.

Inside, Tim the gaffer showed me around. There are 7 rooms of varying dimensions, and all the spa facilities are laid out downstairs. From the reception, a changing area (unisex) allows guests to grab a robe, towel and spa slippers. This leads on the lounge and bar. The far end is used as a dining area for staying guests to take their breakfasts. This area is of a super standard. The behind-bar area serves as a kitchen for light bites and sandwiches. It isn't licensed, so soft drinks only.

The spa is at least as good, if not better, than you'd find at typical UK hotel spas. They have: a big steam room, an equally generous (and properly hot) sauna seating at least a dozen (with a bonus window to the garden), a little one-person plunge bath, heated tiled relaxation seats and showers. Also, plenty of places to hang a robe or towel. Standard places tend to forget this crucial feature, because it's assumed you'll want to stay robed. Just outside, there's a generous hot tub. This would easily take 6 or even 8. There's a garden with sun loungers beyond the patio. This is screened by shrubs and trees, so there's going to be no problem with nosy neighbours. The only thing lacking is a swimming pool.

During my visit, there's was a film crew hanging around (Hotel Inspector, to be broadcast in July - is this a sign of less-than-ideal bookings?), so apparently because of this the usual numbers were down. Usually, Tuesdays and Thursdays are the designated social nights. In the evening there were about 4 other day spa guests and no other overnight guests. Poor things, they were prepping up for a garden party later in the week, but the weather wasn't looking that good.

A variety of beauty treatments are on offer, and I tried a "Swedish", i.e. no tricks, massage. This was delivered enjoyably and competently by a nice therapist. I could have done with a slightly more vigourous working, but this is a very minor quibble. She does other jobs too (including making teas and serving sandwiches at Clover), but prefers this spa (clients at her other gigs are apparently not as pleasant). When Clover first started, the therapists were also nude, but there's been a change (I think the local council want to draw a clear line between places like this - if there are any others - and those which are a front for other shenanigans). This was all to the good as far as my masseuse was concerned, e.g. as otherwise she wouldn't be comfortable working there. I know some principled naturists are sniffy about asymmetric nudity in massage, but I'm not especially dogmatic about this. Speaking to Mrs Monkey, its quite likely that most people find that having nude staff seems like a signal of something funny.

After the treatment, I lounged and enjoyed a simple meal. The other visitors went on their way, leaving me to enjoy the ambience and my Kindle. There's plenty of TV in the lounge and bedrooms, if you like that sort of thing. The advantage of digital TV is that it can be turned into a radio with a few pokes of the remote.

My room upstairs had all the facilities you'd expect. Everything was modern, clean and tasteful. Not a big wardrobe though, though that doesn't seem odd somehow! I had a smaller room, maybe that's why.

Anyway this review is starting to drift, so I'll quickly wrap up. I was impressed, so I'll definitely be back, with company. It's a great little hotel, and the spa is a big big plus for me

Location: convenient for Birmingham, though not too much going on in the district.
Accommodation and general hotel facilities: great.
Therapy: very good range and quality.
Spa: Fantastic, would have to travel to a spa hotel to get as good, and to Germany or Austria to find one as naturist-friendly.

Drawing Movement

2012-03-18T09:58:00.004+00:00

Whereas drawing from a posed figure is hard enough to do properly, drawing an actual moving human (or animal) is something else again. So off I went to a Dance Drawing Workshop at the University of Surrey (Guildford) to see if I could pick up some skills.

Having found the place (eventually, not quite controlling the Tourette's), and having missed most of the the jolly introductions (1 leader, 1 model, 6 punters) we were straight into the deep end. After a run through of a piece of dance, which I found slightly incomprehensible without its music, we then attempted to draw a skirt-swishing passage from it. My sketchpad at this point looks like a 1 year monkey has played with it: just squirls on a page. Arrgh!! I was trying to speed up the 2-minute gesture drawing technique but it wasn't working. It was either my lack of speed, or more likely my insufficient memory for moving objects.

Getting shallower, or perhaps throwing in some buoyancy aids, we then looked at smaller and smaller sections. First of all a shorter run from the same piece, and then some improvised elements. It seemed were were on a breaking-down/decomposition path rather than a building-up/integration path. Maybe that's for us to work on at home.

Click on image for bigger size (on Flickr).

At one point we got to a highly structured practice, where the model would, slowly, hold a pose, move, hold the next pose, and repeat in a loop with four states (video). This would correspond to three or four "postures" of tai chi (which, incidentally, would be really good for this sort of drawing exercise). After a while, I got into the rhythm. I could glance up when she was still, draw when she was moving, and then catch up for the next of the sequential poses. By missing out one of the four, I had enough bandwidth to work on three of the four poses, on a single page. So this felt like an interleaved set of quick drawings, rather than drawing movement as such. This was to do with my way of cheating, as I could have equally have tried to draw the moving arcs not the static nodes.

I think my best images of movement came from an African sequence, done in red chalk. The model repeated a ~20 second loop for about 15 minutes, and got a good workout in the process. It was such a joyful dance so there was a lot of happiness in the room at that point, which helped enormously with the drawing.

There were also some conventional held poses to round off the day. I'm not sure I really wanted these, and anyway had a hard time interpreting the model's form in her black clothes. Clothed models, whatever next!? We finished off with a Degas style number (stretching on the floor, lots of lacy fabric), held for 20 minutes (no picture of that, but you can imagine it better than I can draw it).

A very interesting experience, well organised, with a nice group of artists attending. Writing about it now has made me think about levels of movement in a different way (yes, I drew myself an annotated diagram), and started me on thinking about tactics for drawing them.

Draw : Grimm Tales

2012-03-09T09:11:00.001+00:00

Last Saturday, to a Draw session themed around fairy tales, entitled Grimm Tales.

Quite wonderful concept : bringing theatricality (costumes, music, plot) and fun to the process of life drawing. Pretty popular too, about 100 artists jostling for space to see the models.

Illustrator Geo Parkin captured the vibe much better than I did, and has a superior scanning technique. However, for the morbidly curious, here are some of my sketches (click on image to be taken to Flickr). Links to other artists on Draw's own blog.

Desirables of a Life Class

2012-03-04T09:55:00.000+00:00

I'm not hugely experienced in life drawing (just over two years), though I've seen three or four different types of class/session now. I'm usually open to whatever the class is. However, I've built up some ideas about what I like. I've tried to reflect on the most important, which appear towards the top of the list. I hesitate to call them Requirements, so let's say they are Desirables. I've left out things like location and frequency, as these are on the Cost side of the equation. Can you tell that I'm accustomed to thinking with my left brain? Or that I'm fairly grumpy?

My ideal drawing class, or strictly session, would have :

A Model, or maybe Some Models, who are willing to be still and be studied for a while.

That's basically it for essentials, so here are the differentiators:
Nude. The figure can best be studied without obstructing clothing. On the model I mean. Some is OK, but essentially I'd like to draw the figure.
Time. A decent session duration. Two hours is standard, but I could go low as 40 minutes or up three hours. Beyond that, the place has to be comfy and offer other features.
Poses. A variety of poses, some short, some long, in various postures (stand, point, stretch, sit, lie).
Stillness. Poses held quite accurately, though doesn't have to be static to the millimetre.

You get all that with any normal class with experienced models (or good guidance). So now we go to the aspects which vary a lot from class to class.
Light. Good light falling on the models, preferably warm and directional. Medium shadows that show form.
More Light. Good amount of light on the drawing paper, neutral and flat. (Yeah I know, bear with me, this is an ideal list.) I'd like to be able to see a light mark made with a 2H pencil.
Knowledge. Both of how long each pose will last, and what poses there will be. No sudden surprises. Poses may be slightly longer than advertised.
Schedule. Start, break and stop at the advertised time. I usually have a train to catch.
Space. This means adequate sightlines, fairly close to the model. Enough leg and elbow room to adjust my drawing position. There should be the option of sitting (on chairs) or standing to work, and moving around.
Peace. No crashing about, dropping things or giggling. Noisily setting up next to me after I've been concentrating for 10 mins? ... hmm, not impressed. Talking in a soft voice is fine. This is do with the culture of the class, and harder for the leader to control.
Easels and boards. It's very nice to have these available, as they don't fit in my bag so well.
Tea. I can't survive on will alone, so refreshments are very good to have. A nearby shop/cafe if the venue doesn't put on its own tea. This needs toilets to work properly. A class shorter than 2 hours can do without.
Sympathy/society. Interacting with other artists (and models) is part of the process. I don't especially want formal crits or anything, but it's good to see what approaches and techniques are being used, and to have the chance to chat with the others. Again this is class culture aspect, as some people don't seem comfortable with having their work on show.
Tuition. It depends on the intent of the class. I can cope with none, sympathetic guidance, all the way to stern correction. Demonstration is a very effective technique. This could simply be having a drawing done in the same time as I made my attempt, and getting some quick Q+A with the master.
Materials. It's a bonus to have paper and such for sale, though I'm basically going to bring my favourite stuff to a class. Having consumables such as tape, fixer, water and towel/rags is very nice.
Beer. Post-session pub trips are nice to have. But these would essentially be a wind down for me, so no jumping joints thanks.
No extraneous noises. I've listed this one separately as it's to do with the environment rather than class culture.
Hygeine. The room should be fairly clean. It should be safe to sit on the floor, and there should be wastebins that are not already overflowing.
Admin. This means signing up, paying, finding information and all that, should not be a hassle.
Beautiful models. Well, everyone is beautiful, but you know what I mean. I've listed this simply to show that it's low on the list. Anyone can be a life model.

Now we are into the nice-to-haves, no particular order :
Variations on class leadership. I've never experienced a class without one, so assume it may be necessary. It would be interesting to try a class led from within, i.e. a model or artist intermittently changing mode, or just by having everyone keep to a chalked-up menu, which might work for a small group of like-minded people.
Theatre (ideas, props, costumes). A sense of occasion is fine, and a narrative is interesting for long sessions. However, if the narrative has surprising elements in it, then this is in danger of breaking the Knowledge of the Pose desirable. If the drawings turn out OK, it also adds interest to the sketchbook, which goes down well with the non-artists who later see it.
Music (see also Theatre). I don't mind a bit of ambient background noodling, but I could do without singing (unless word-free) and dramatic musical content. Some artists stick their iPods in. Were I to do so, it would be vocal-free, but not necessarily chill-out. E.g. Electronica, instrumental rock, dub reggae, classical would all work, and could even be pretty loud. The main thing is that it shouldn't draw attention to itself at the intellectual level. If it's live, it should be in tune (nothing like a flat to draw attention to itself). I recognise this is personal; I'm crap at multitasking (e.g. can't answer a question if I'm typing a sentence), but I do like working with music on.

Next time, I might tell you how some different classes have done on this scale.

2012 Running Plans

2012-01-08T16:20:00.000+00:00

It's that time again. Thou Shalt Resolve to Do Better!

Not really into the whole annual resolution thing these days, but I have indeed signed up for another series of cross-countries, as reported previously. A friend of mine is somehow doing the London Marathon - for charity, I'll find out which one - and so I put it to him that getting up double-early to drive down to Newlands Corner on a chilly Saturday to do a hilly 10 K is just what his training schedule needs. Bearing in mind that his idea of a gradient is the end of Waterloo Bridge, whereas the G3's frequently have runners, or rather ambulatory particpants, on their fours up the side of St Martha's hill.

Looks horrendous - cold muddy and hard work. I hate hills

Let's do it.

Sudden thought. It's just next week! Ahh, better get the trainers on. This week I ran with D around the block on a cold, damp night, headtorch a go go. By myself on a sunny Friday, attacking Frith Hill a couple of times. Again with D gently along the towpath today (Sunday). That's about, what, 10 miles altogether? On the back of nothing at all since mid November? So I'm just about prepared for the first 3 Km.

G3 Series : http://www.allabouttriathlons.co.uk/events_g3-run.html

G3 Nerdy Stats

2011-03-06T11:24:00.005+00:00

After 3 races of the G3 Series 10 k, here are the promised Nerdy Statistics.

Obviously, as a not-very-dedicated middling plodder, I'm not going to win, so it's more appropriate to see where I am with respect to the distribution. Rather than chart the whole field, I've chosen to compare my time and position with the leader and median (i.e. half way down the field) for the overall result and my category Veteran Man. Finding the median is easier than computing the mean (average), as I can just look up the half way point in the listing. These are my times for each of the three races (not an identical course, but similar).

Data laid out as follows.

Number of runners in each of the four categories, then the total
My time hh:mm:ss
Overall: leader's time, median time, my position overall
Vet Man: leader's time, median time, my position in this category
Overall: my time ratio vs leading time; vs median. Lower is better (Note 1)
Vet Man: my time ratio vs leading time; vs median in this category
My position as a percentage of the Overall field (Note 2)
My position as a percentage of Category

Encouraging to see an improvement in each of the metrics. Goes with my general trajectory of improving (restoring fitness?) since I switched the running back on in December. Sort of confirms what I thought about progress and how you feel competing.

Note 1: The winner would score 1.000 here, and someone running at half the speed would be 2.000. So I take 50% longer than the leader, but in terms of time I'm within a few percent of the middle.

Note 2: The winner would be about 0.3% (1 divided by the number of runners) on position, whereas the last runner would score 100%. The median runner scores 50% by definition. The results show that the distribution isn't symmetric (there are more people towards the front; the average is quicker than the median). It's taken me 3 goes to work towards the better half of the field, and I'm not quite there yet, whereas on time I'm not doing so bad.

G3 Part 3

2011-03-05T17:59:00.003+00:00

Up early again for another 10 k on the Downs. D and I both felt odd (hot, queasy) during the night : a bug? some food not right?

I continued with the queasy sensation during the run, but no emergencies of any kind. A much simpler route than 1 or 2, characterised by long flat sections, tracking along the contours of the North Downs, and equally long steep bits at right angles. I started well, moving forward in the bunch in the first km, then lost places when my shoelaces unravelled. As usual, the steep southern approach to St Martha's is amusing in the extreme. A walking family looked on us stumbling up the past aghast - had we been running all the way from Canterbury perhaps? No just 35 minutes around those fields. "We're having fun, honest!"

It occurred to me that in these sorts of distances, that there's nowhere to hide. You have to concentrate continually to keep your footing, so turning off mentally is not an option. Physically, the pace is pushing all the time, at what atherletes like to call the Lactate Threshold. For me, that's three steps per breathing cycle, as opposed to the four steps of a half-M or Sunday run.

Likewise, progress in gaining speed endurance fitness isn't accompanied by any less discomfort. You feel crap if you're doing well or badly, just that if you can go faster for the same amount of crap feeling you'll place higher. Assuming you're competing consistently.

Similar time to last couple of outings 10 km = 1 h 08 m.

Ghastly photo and nerdy stats to follow.

G3 10k - part 1

2011-01-31T10:28:00.005+00:00

Coldest. Start. Ever! Not used to 8:30 runs, but when my fingers stopped freezing I could admire the North Downs, ups, downs and ups again.

First of the G3 series of local (Guildford) 10k races.

Generally tough, though not mega-tough (e.g. ground ok to run on, no excessive laundry bill afterwards). Quickly realised that walking was a pretty decent idea on the steep stretches. Hefty walking steps are almost as fast as a pathetic running action after a certain gradient. The downs are a puzzle as well; too fast down and you spend more energy controlling the descent, whereas you really need to be taking a breather for the next climb.

The route, having descended from Newland's Corner, took in St Martha's (approached from the eastern ridge) and over the other side, and then back up again.

I placed about two-thirds down the field, at 1:07 or so. I've got a file of all the times and places, and might do some nerdy stats after next time. The veteran man category was noticeably more competitive than the bulk of the field, which probably says something about how the various age groups use running, not that the 50's and 60's bred a race of supermen.

Look for runner 275 in the photos.