* Robert Bresson, French film director.
Long ago I was a pretty good artist. I can't sculpt, I have no eye for color, but I draw a good nude. My favorite class was Figure Drawing, where my specialty was delicate line drawings of nude women.
Of course, I was far more comfortable with the female form. I had almost no experience with the male nude form. I blame myself, of course, and Michelangelo. All through high school I peered closely at many of Michelangelo's works to see what a penis might look like and was presented with bullshit like this.
"Scribble Penis" by the Artist Michelangelo
"Stylized Penis" by the Artist Michelangelo
(Really, what does that tell me? It's a potato growing out of a cauliflower cloud.)
At any rate, for the first three weeks of Figure Drawing we waited out the pervs who signed up for class just to drop it after they saw their nudes. Then, one day I was running late and thought, "Rats," (truly) "It's the first day with a nude and now I'm going to be late."
Well, I was late, and worse yet, all of the drawing horses (sit-down easels) were taken. The horses were circled around the male nude's table. The table he sprawled on. Sprawled on his back. Sprawled on his back with his legs bent at the knee dangling off the table. Like this guy.
Only naked. And young. And guess where the only available drawing horse was? Yes. Right between his knees. Scrotum Central.
I looked two or three times for another easel, then I said, "Oh, it's just a body part." Then I sat down, propped up my pad and drew a GREAT BIG CIRCLE because BALLS, meet Ellen. Ellen, may I introduce you to Balls?
I never got past the big circle because the instructor saw my focal point (balls), snorted, and said "Time for a new position."
This is the same instructor who, later that semester, wanted us to exercise our powers of observation, so he moved the naked nude male model into the storage closet. Then we had to individually go into the closet, study the model for up to a minute, then go back and draw him from memory. People were drawing individual arm hairs to avoid peering at the private parts of the man you were trapped with in a storage closet.
I should start drawing again. I don't suppose there are figure drawing classes at the Y.