THE NAKED TRUTH
By
Lloyd Garver
I've never been good at drawing. My stick figures look like they were done by a second grader with hand-eye coordination problems. I've always felt it was hopeless, but not too long ago my wife guaranteed that I could learn to draw. She encouraged me to take an art class called "Life Drawing." "Life drawing" is a euphemism. It's like when people say they were "downsized" instead of "fired." Life drawing is really "Drawing Naked People." I thought I would feel too weird to try this, but I was told, "This is art. It's just like drawing a bowl of fruit."
At the first class, when the nude model posed, I was very proud of myself. I didn't giggle, I didn't blush, and I didn't stare. On the other hand, I also didn't think it was "just like a bowl of fruit."
I've always had a theory that I know is terribly uncultured and unsophisticated: This all started as a scam perpetrated by artists like Michelangelo and Rubens who simply wanted to see their models unclothed. By the second lesson, I had a second theory. This one is about how people get to the point where they can say that this nudity thing is no big deal: THEY LIE. They see the same things you and I see. They just pretend that it doesn't faze them.
At the third session, one of my 16-year-old daughter's friends had joined the class. Now, I really felt strange. I was about to be looking at a naked woman while I was in the same room with my daughter's friend (let's call her Susie).
Every time I looked at Susie, I thought about my own daughter and how odd I'd feel if she were taking the class. Also, I couldn't stop wondering if Susie was wondering what I was thinking as I was looking at the model. After all, she's with her friend's dad who's looking at a naked woman!
Before the first week of class, I was told that some weeks we'd have a female model, and some weeks we'd have a male model. As uncomfortable as I felt about the idea of a female model, I wasn't sure how I would handle being in the room with a male model. I actually thought that maybe I'd skip those weeks. However, Susie's appearance made that plan impossible. If I were absent just on the weeks that we had a male model, she -- and the entire class -- would conclude that the only reason I was taking the class was to leer at women. But I sure wasn't looking forward to being in class with my daughter's friend when we had a male model.
I thought about dropping out of the class, but this seemed impossible, too. If I quit, they would all think I quit because I felt embarrassed. What kind of message would I be sending to Susie? Do I want her to feel uncomfortable with Nature? Do I want her to feel that her girlfriend's father is so unworldly that he can't handle a simple situation like this?
No, let's face it. I can never miss one of these classes, let alone drop out. I'm heartened by the knowledge that Susie will be graduating from high school in another year and a half. I'm hoping that she will go away to college. Or at least move out of town some day. Or lose interest in art. In the meantime, I'll just keep buying charcoal and pretending to be looking at the models' faces -- just like everybody else in the class.
Copyright 2002 by Lloyd Garver