The Art Class

Big Dicks

There were five students in the room, one teacher and a model who sat smoking, despite all regulations and sitting on the posing chaise as our teacher, Isobel, talked.”Ignore Teri – she is a rebel.” Isobel smiled at us. “Rebels make good models – they have character. Now, you,” she pointed at Martha, the oldest in the room. “Martha, what is the difference between painting and photography?””A painter should try not merely to create an accurate image of her subject but to demonstrate something of the subject’s character through her art or to reveal something that is not necessarily there but is suggested by the subject to the artist?” Martha always answered a question like that, with a sort of hesitant question-like statement.”Pretty good. I’m going to arrange Teri, to pose her and I want you to paint her in a way that tells me, your viewer, something either about her or about your impression of her. Can you do that?” The group murmured a response which was not positive but more like a “we’ll have a bash at it” sort of reply. Isobel arranged Teri so that her right breast, the one furthest from us, was exposed, the left covered in the thin material of her dress. Teri’s right arm was extended to point, her left hanging almost bahis siteleri vertically down as she lay supine on the chaise longue. Her right leg was bent at the knee so that the heel of her foot was on the chaise, the other leg was spread wide and the dress fabric, deep red silk, flowed over her pubis like blood.”Observe,” here Isobel ran her hand rather intimately over Teri’s mound, “the dress covers her cunt but we can see the faint outline of it, agreed?” Another murmur. Isobel had described Teri as a rebel but she was rebellious too. She never used a euphemism, sometimes a physiological word, like breast or vulva, more usually a common word like tit or cunt.”And, please, ladies,” she added, “remember, perspective, light and above all remember to compose your piece. What is the difference between erotica and porn? Don’t bother, I’ll give you the rules according to Isobel. Three key words: imagination, sensuality and provocation. Erotic art leaves the sex to the viewer’s imagination, porn thrusts it at you like it’s on the end of a pitchfork. Sensuality not sexuality – the viewer feels the subject’s weakness or vulnerability or desire; whatever you, the artist, see in her. Provocation; the artist wants to arouse canlı bahis siteleri through sensuality and imagination, not through the obvious depiction of sexuality. Does that make sense?” We got to work. Isobel patrolled the studio, studying each student’s work, passing comments, encouraging. Her hand rested on my left shoulder, her chin on my right. Her silver blonde hair brushed against my face and her thumb absently caressed the skin of my neck just above my blouse. Her voice was almost a whisper. “Tell me what you’re trying to achieve?””I want her naked breast to be almost out of focus so that attention is drawn to the clothed breast, to the hint of its nipple. I’m trying to suggest that her sensuality is drawing them into her. I want them to see Teri as I see her.””And how do you see her?” I hesitated. “She exudes sexual desire, she almost looks as though she is post coital, as though she has just had a tremendous orgasm and is trying to cling to the moment.” The voice whispered in my ear, “Hmm, you are setting your imagination as a benchmark for the viewer?” The hand resting on my shoulder slipped lower down my front and clutched the silk of my blouse, bunching it so the fabric scraped across my canlı bahis somewhat engorged left nipple. “I think so, yes.” Insistently, she pressed her mouth to my ear through my long hair. “Is her cunt wet? Is yours?” This startled me and I almost recoiled. She continued, louder than I would have liked, “You will never be an artist, never a real artist, unless you admit to yourself the effect the subject has on you. Is your cunt wet?” I nodded.”Say it: say, ‘my cunt is wet.'” I couldn’t. Exasperated, Isobel lifted her head from my shoulder, her hand still on the other.”If I’d asked you when you were looking at a landscape, ‘is your heart singing’ or ‘is the light revealing something you have never seen before’ you’d answer, no?” I could feel the eyes of the class on me. “Yes.””If you are seeing sexuality in your subject it is because that is how you feel about her? If she makes you wet, then you want the viewer to be wet.” Then, to the rest of the group, “Is anyone wet from looking at Teri? I am!” Some nodded nervously.”Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Isobel almost slapped my shoulder. “When you paint erotica or anything else come to that, you expose yourself, your desire or your loathing; your lust or your hatred. If you’re exposing yourself through your work, then you might as well expose yourself through your words.””Yes,” I said quietly, “Yes, I am wet.” The truth was that I wasn’t sure if it was Teri or the intimacy of Isobel’s touch that had made me wet.

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