Alright, so I figured it was time to really dig into understanding the human form, you know, for art. Sketching people, getting the shapes right, that kind of thing. And yeah, part of that journey, if you’re serious about anatomy and realism, involves looking at model nude poses. Purely for artistic study, of course. It’s a classic way artists learn.
So, I started my “practice.” I thought, okay, I’ll find some good resources, maybe some online groups or even a decent workshop. Seemed straightforward enough. How hard could it be to find proper artistic references and guidance?
My Brilliant Idea for Practice
I decided the best way to kick things off was to find some structured learning. I wasn’t just gonna stare at pictures; I wanted to understand the mechanics, the flow. My practice needed direction. So, I looked around for online courses or workshops specifically focused on figure drawing using nude studies.
And that’s when things got… interesting. You know how sometimes you think you’ve found exactly what you need, and it turns out to be a complete circus? Yeah, that.
I stumbled upon this online workshop. It had a fancy name, something like “The Alchemist’s Key to Figurative Mastery,” run by a fellow who called himself “Professor Artisto.” His website looked flashy, lots of testimonials, big promises about unlocking your inner Da Vinci. Seemed like a good place for my practice.
- He promised live model sessions (streamed, of course).
- Detailed critiques of our work.
- Secrets of the old masters, the whole nine yards.
So I signed up. Paid the fee. Thought my practice sessions were about to level up big time.
The “Professor Artisto” Experience
Well, let me tell you, “Professor Artisto” was a piece of work. The “live model sessions”? Half the time, it was just him fumbling with his webcam, pointing it at some grainy printout he’d stuck on his wall. When there was a live model, the lighting was awful – like they were in a witness protection program. Made any serious study impossible.
My so-called “practice” quickly turned into an exercise in frustration. During one session, where we were supposed to be capturing “dynamic movement” from a model doing very static poses, he spent a good thirty minutes talking about his struggles with gluten. Not art, not anatomy, not poses. Gluten. I kid you not.
And the critiques? Oh boy. One time, I submitted a sketch I’d spent hours on, really trying to get the proportions right based on the blurry reference. His feedback? “Your lines lack existential truth.” What am I supposed to do with that? Another student was told her drawing “felt too Tuesday.” It was Thursday.
The whole thing was a mess. We, the students, started a little side chat. Turns out, everyone was just as baffled. People were asking, “Is this guy for real?” or “Did anyone actually learn anything about model nude poses or just his grocery list?” My dedicated practice time felt like a total waste. I was trying to learn about art, about form, using nude figures as a study tool, and instead, I got a masterclass in how not to run a workshop.
So, yeah, that was my big “practice” adventure into the world of online figure drawing workshops. It taught me one thing for sure: finding genuine, no-nonsense resources for studying something like model nude poses for artistic purposes is way harder than it looks. Lots of noise, lots of self-proclaimed gurus. My main takeaway wasn’t about anatomy, but about spotting a grifter from a mile away. It’s a skill, I guess.
