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There’s an enormous store of mythology built up around the existence, roles and antics of the Gods. Is it all myth?
Will Fox had been to the Gallery before, of course, as an art lover, but this time it was because he’d been given a project by his tutor. He was an art student, and he had been instructed to paint a series of four portraits of Venus, as modern updates of the classical pictures. This was inspired by the fact that Venus was the subject of the summer exhibition. They had a few of the really well-known images there: Giorgione’s Sleeping Venus; a couple of Titian’s Venuses, the Urbino and Venus Arising from the Sea (he seemed besotted with her and painted her several times); Rubens’ Venus and Adonis; and many other images of the goddess through the ages. And here Will was, standing with a crowd of other gallery goers in front of perhaps the most famous Venus painting of them all: the Birth of Venus by Botticelli, the one with Venus standing on a seashell representing her ‘birth’ from the waves. He’d been told very firmly not to produce a reproduction but a ‘modern interpretation’. How was he going to do that? He was lost for inspiration.
“Come on Venus, you’re a goddess,” he sighed, “Help me out here, I need an idea…”
From just behind him, where he hadn’t noticed her, came a voice in response, startling him.
“Happy to help if I can!”
He turned around. Standing there was a woman, age quite hard to guess but if pushed you’d have said late twenties, dressed relatively conservatively in a modest bright blue blouse and jeans, but clearly something of a beauty. Fairly tall for a woman, slim but with some appealing curves, she had classically good features, long fair hair, and you could see a lively personality shining through her smile and sparkling blue eyes.
“Oh, er, sorry, help how?” Will wasn’t always at his most eloquent with strangers, especially attractive women.
“Well, my name is Venus, and you just asked me for help!”
“Oh!” Will felt himself blush, something he always tried hard to suppress. He hadn’t realised that he’d actually spoken out loud, he was so caught up in his thoughts.
“It’s just, ah, I’m an art student, and I’ve been set the task of painting a modern interpretation of four classic paintings of Venus. Artists are supposed to have inspiration… I think I left mine at home!”
“I see!” She had an electrifying smile. “I tell you what, if I buy you a coffee, tell me what you need to do and we can see if two heads are better than one!”
“Oh, er, that’s really kind, are you sure? That would be great, um, thanks…”
They eased out from the throng in front of the picture, and made their way to the gallery’s café. Venus got two Cappuccinos and Will found a free table.
“So, you know my name, what’s yours?” Venus said.
“Will… pleased to meet you!”
“Likewise, Will! I have to say you look older than most art students.”
“Yeah, I’m 31, which makes me seem really ancient compared with my classmates. Sometimes we don’t seem to have a lot in common! They’re all into modern art forms, like installation art or digital art or videos, and especially abstract or so-called representative imagery, although I often find it hard to see what they represent! One of my classmates is into building statues from glueing together bits of cardboard boxes! Well, I like old-fashioned painting. That makes it a bit hard too.”
“Well, if it’s any comfort, I’m definitely in the old-fashioned painting camp! Which art school are you at?”
“The Julius London. It’s near Smithfield, do you know it?”
“I’ve been past it. How come you are only going to art school now, practically a pensioner?” The twinkle in her eye gave the tease away.
He laughed. “That’s how the cookie crumbled for me! I’ve always been into art, but my father was a carpenter, he had a fairly successful small business. He set it up, oh, fifteen or more years ago now, up to then he took any carpentry jobs he could, so he could look after me – my mother had died giving birth to me.” Venus made a sympathetic noise. “So when I could, I started helping him and when I left school I had learned enough to start working for him, and we built it up to six staff. Then…” It was still a bit raw.
She put her hand on his. “Tell me only if you want to.” He found that he did.
“Dad got sick, and it turned out to be cancer. He lasted about a year. So I inherited the firm, but I’m not a business type, so when I had approaches to buy it I jumped at the chance. So, now I have just about enough money to do what I’d always wanted to do, and become an artist. I’ve always loved drawing, and I’m told I have a good eye and some talent, but I needed to come to Art School to learn more about painting techniques. Plus of course the thorny issue of how to get your work sold!”
“Good for you! What sort of art will you want to do?”
“I’m not totally sure. I’ve always liked drawing people, but that’s hard to make money with. Better to be a so-called ‘corporate artist’ and make pretty pictures for boardrooms and hotels. I’ll see how it goes, I guess. I can’t live on the money from the business for ever, but at least if it doesn’t work out I can go back to carpentry.”
“Sounds like a good plan. So tell me about this assignment.”
“Well…” Will paused, gathering his thoughts. “We’ve all been set different tasks, but the powers that be will mark the results and they will be part of our exam. Because this exhibition was on, I was set the assignment of painting Venus. I think that’s why they told me before the summer holidays, whilst this exhibition is still on, and since I don’t have anywhere to go for the holidays I’m minded to get started as soon as I can. I know it’s only August and I’ve got until the end of the Autumn term to hand them in, but I think it will take quite a while to get these paintings right. I’ve got to make four paintings, which are loosely based on classic works in this exhibition, interpreted in a modern context. I think I know which ones I want to do, but I’m struggling with how to place them in a modern setting. And then there’s the problem of finding models… there’s barely a painting in the whole exhibition where she’s wearing any clothes!”
“I’m sure girls won’t have a problem posing for a nice young man like you! So which ones do you want to paint?”
“Well, I think the Rokeby Venus…”
“Ah, Velazquez…”
“Yes, only instead of a mirror, she’s holding a mobile phone for a selfie. I’ll omit Cupid, I think it’s too fraught to have a small child in a modern picture with a nude woman.”
“Sounds good… and then?”
“I like Titian’s Venus of Urbino, it’s very provocative with her lying there, smirking at the viewer, fingers over her pudenda as if about to masturbate, so it would suit a modern audience! I’ll make her covered with tattoos.”
“I like it! Hey, you seem to have it all worked out – you haven’t obtained this coffee by deception have you?” She laughed.
He smiled back. “Hardly… I can’t work out what to do with the background in the Venus of Urbino. Titian made it look almost like a painting behind Venus’s bed rather than a view through a doorway, and the figures of the women with their backs turned are very strange.”
“Why not make it a painting then, and use a modern picture, such as a Warhol? Or a courtyard with, let’s see, oh, how about representing the women as if they were a Banksy on the wall?”
Will laughed. “Hey, that’s not bad. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Great!” Venus beamed. “So what’s next?”
“Oh, the next is a must – it’s got to be the Botticelli – I just don’t quite see how to do it yet.”
“Let me think… How about instead of a seashell you put her on a surfboard, and instead of Zephyr and Aura blowing on her, a couple of fans? As for the Hora holding the cloak, just put a coat stand with a dressing gown!”
“Hmm, that could work… yes… I think you have something… I’ll see if I can work up some sketches… thanks!”
“My pleasure! And the fourth?”
“I don’t know… I’d like to have one of the pictures of her with Adonis or Mars, but I’m having trouble picking one or knowing what to do with it. Some of these are so complicated with lots of background figures, and whichever one I do I’ll want to reduce it down to key subject matter. I wondered about the Rubens, Venus and Adonis, but it’s hard to see what to do with it.”
“My choice would be Mars Being Disarmed by Venus, the Jacques-Louis David. I’ve always been fond of that.”
“That’s the one with her grabbing the laurel wreath from his head? Interesting… I guess Venus would be removing a baseball cap, not a laurel wreath… and he’d be holding not a spear but… um…”
“I know, how about he’s got a cricket bat and she’s holding his cricket cap? And perhaps he’s still wearing his cricket pads?” Venus said and laughed. Will joined in.
“Perfect! And the figures in the background should be the umpires!”
“I think that should work!” Venus was quite animated and clasping her hands in glee. It was infectious.
“Now all I have to do is find models for each of these paintings – I’ll have to see what my budget can stretch to…”
“I’ll do it if you like,” said Venus. Will was quite sure his jaw literally dropped.
“I, er, well, are you sure? I mean that would be fantastic, you’d be perfect, but I can’t pay much, and anyway you hardly know me. I know I’m harmless but you don’t. You do realise you’ll need to be nude? You should have a chaperone, and -“
She held up a hand. “It’s ok, I’m a good judge of character, I can tell you’re a decent man. I’m happy to do it for nothing, call it ‘for art’! How much time will you want and when?”
“Um, here’s how I see it going. I’ll mock up some draft sketches so I know the poses and the accessories I need. I’ll meet you to go over these and see what you are comfortable with, and we’ll work out the order and schedule. Next I’ll get the set prepared and then get you to pose for photographs. Then I’ll do the core painting and get it say ninety percent done working from the photos, then I’ll get you back to pose again to do the finishing touches, you know, get the highlights and shadows just right and so on. Before photos were so good, you’d need the sitter for maybe six or eight sessions! Nowadays you can manage with one. So that’s probably, oh, say two or three hours for the photos for each painting, then probably the best part of a day for each painting for the finishing touches. How does that sound? I’ve got a while before I need to submit the paintings, but it’s still a lot of time for you, I know…”
“That’s OK, I’m sure I can find time to do it. I’m already looking forward to it, and I can’t wait to see the results!”
Will heaved a sigh of relief; at last he felt he had germ of a plan. Then it occurred to him that he knew nothing about Venus. He was to find out she had a real knack for getting people to talk about themselves without revealing much about herself.
“So anyway, what do you do for a living? When do you have free time?”
“I’m a social worker, which doesn’t really have fixed times; so I can make time for this and work around it easily enough.”
Will was intrigued. “What sort of social work? Whereabouts are you based?”
“I help people with relationship problems, and I don’t really have a home patch as such. I go where I’m needed. In fact, I’ll need to go fairly soon, I’ve got a client to see; so when do you want to get together to look at your sketches?”
Will thought about it for a moment. “I can have some initial sketches ready by about the middle of next week. Are you likely to have some free time then? Can I buy you dinner, say Thursday evening? It’s the least I can do!”
“That should be fine. Give me your number and I’ll get in touch to confirm.”
So he gave her his mobile number, she didn’t reciprocate but promised to text. Will wondered if he’d hear from her again. He still couldn’t believe that a complete stranger would offer to pose naked for him without even being paid.
But to his delight, his phone pinged on Tuesday evening with a text:
Hi Will, looking forward to seeing sketches on Thurs. Meet you outside Art School at 6pm and go for a drink first? Love Venus
‘Love’? He liked the sound of that, and quickly rattled off a reply.
He threw himself into working and reworking three or four sketches of different approaches for each work, trying to see if there was anything he’d missed that would improve them. He realised he was really looking forward to sharing them, and yes, to seeing Venus again.
When you become absorbed in something substantial, time seems to disappear before you are aware of it. Will tended to get so possessed by an activity like this that he didn’t notice the passing of time, or indeed the missing of meals. By the time Thursday came round, he was still tweaking sketches and having second thoughts. Fortunately he remembered in time to book a table at his favourite Italian Trattoria not far from the agreed meeting point. Not too cheap, not too expensive, and there was a half decent pub a block away. He hoped she liked Italian food. After all, Venus was a Roman goddess, wasn’t she?
Thursday evening found Will ready outside the School fifteen minutes early, clutching a portfolio with his sketches, and feeling more nervous than he thought he should. He told himself it wasn’t a real date, just an artist meeting a model to discuss the forthcoming pictures. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that getting Venus’s approval was important.
More or less on the dot of six, he heard from behind him “Hi, Will!” and there she was. He’d been looking out for her, but still had somehow missed her approach.
“Hello, great to see you! I so hoped you hadn’t had second thoughts, I still can’t believe you offered to pose nude for a complete stranger!” She beamed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. For some reason, he felt touched.
“I keep my promises! And anyway, after this evening I hope you won’t be a stranger any more!”
She looked great. A short-sleeved dress, a deep blue that was only just not black, with just enough cleavage to be interesting but not flaunting, and with a gold chain round her neck holding a pendant – is that a miniature Botticelli Venus? Yes, it is! Hanging just low enough to draw attention to that hint of cleavage. The dress fell to mid thigh, enough to show what great legs she had but not so short as to look slutty when she sat; but it was her face and eyes that caught his attention. She radiated all sorts of emotions: beauty, serenity, excitement, warmth… how could she do all that? God, she’ll make a fantastic model, he thought. But how do I capture her personality in paint? Am I up to it?
“Are those the sketches?”
Will laughed. “I’ll show you once we’ve got a drink!”
“Come on then, I presume you know which pub to go to round here?” So saying she linked arms and Will guided her in the right direction. As they walked, he asked her about her week and what she’d been up to. She answered vaguely and switched the conversation seamlessly back to how he’d gone about the sketches. Afterwards he realised that once again he’d found out little about her and she’d got a lot more information about him.
At the pub, settled into a relatively quiet corner – in so far as a city pub can be quiet so soon after the end of office hours – they clinked glasses and took a sip, then Venus said, “I’ve been patient – come on then, show me!”
Will laughed and undid the portfolio. “This is the Botticelli…”
There were three sketches. One showed Venus on a surfboard, in classic surfboarder’s pose, with the coat stand and dressing gown as they discussed, and the winds represented by two distant wind turbines. The next was similar except Venus was standing in a similar pose to Botticelli’s version. The last was like the second except that instead of a surfboard she was standing in a small boat, decorated to look like a shell, with ‘Clammy’ painted on the side.
“I couldn’t work out how to put fans on a beach, so I went with the wind farm in the background,” he said.
Venus considered them in turn, exclaiming with pleasure over each one.
“You’ve caught my likeness really well, is that just from memory?”
“Yep, I’m lucky, I have a good visual memory. Not so good with facts, like science at school!”
Venus laughed.
“They are all great! I can’t decide… Which would be the easiest to execute?”
Will thought for a moment. “Probably the middle one. It’s easy enough to find a surfboard to use, harder to mock up a model boat, although I can probably do a decent job straight to canvas without one to work from. I think it will be hard for you to hold the surfer pose for any length of time, and I guess the pose standing straight up is more of a direct reference to Botticelli. Let’s go for the middle one.”
“Fine by me!” Venus handed these sheets back to Will and he handed her three more. “This is the Urbino… I did these different ones to try to find the best tattoos to put on her. What do you think?”
“I think I’m not prepared to be tattooed just so you can paint me!”
Will laughed. “No, I didn’t suppose so. Plan B will be to draw them on using either body paint or felt tip. I should be able to do that once for the photos and then for the finishing touches I can get by without redoing it. I couldn’t get it exactly the same twice anyway! But one thing I do need to know – do you have any tattoos or piercings already?”
Venus gave him a sly smile. “Why, do you like a woman who’s tattooed or pierced?”
“Not me! I take an artist’s purist view: a tattoo is a distraction, the body itself, natural and uncomplicated, that’s what I like; no, I mean if I’m to design some tattoos for this painting I need to know if I have to work around what’s already there.”
“Well, rest assured I don’t have any tattoos. I’ve resisted such temporary fads! You’ll just have me…”
There was a twinkle in her eye, and Will wasn’t sure if she was coming on to him or just pulling his leg. Best not to assume anything, he thought.
“So, you still haven’t said… what tattoos should we have?”
She studied the sketches again. “I think rather than densely tattooed all over, I like the single feature on the torso. But I’m not sure about the dragon, the biker is better but still not quite right. The traditional symbols for Venus were doves, trees, flowers, and of course sea shells. How about a stylised tree front and centre? And maybe you could add something like ‘Man Utd’ on her arm, or a heart with the word ‘Mars’?”
“Hmm…” Will thought for a moment. “What do you think about having a copy of the Botticelli Venus standing on the seashell? I reckon that’d be a nice reference to the original.”
Venus clapped her hands. “Perfect!”
Will drained his glass. “And by the way, the arm would have to be Spurs.”
Venus snorted, and Will smiled.
“Take a look at the others,” he went on, passing the portfolio to Venus, “while I get some more drinks. Same again?”
“Thanks.”
Whilst Will joined the queue at the bar, she leafed through the other sketches. The one with the cricket bat made her smile.
When Will returned, she said,
“I love these… I don’t have much to say really. I’ve known a few artists in my time and I think you have a real talent.”
“Thanks…” Will felt a flush of pride. Something about Venus made compliments like that feel so much more meaningful and personal.
They discussed the other sketches, Venus expressed a preference for one of them but said all the others were equally good. Will put the sketches back in the portfolio and they headed off to the restaurant.
They spent a pleasant evening chatting. Will found himself telling her all about himself and his life, and about a couple of past dates that didn’t end well.
“I don’t know, I guess I don’t seem to get how women think, I can’t seem to tell them how I feel without upsetting them, and I don’t seem to get the signals they must be sending me.” He couldn’t quite believe he was telling her such intimate confessions of inadequacy.
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