Stendhal Syndrome II

I am reblogging my friend Moof’s post on her experience in figure drawing class because I just have to share this…too funny.

He Waited on the Couch to Die

So I go to art class tonight, get there two minutes late, which means the bitch seat is the only seat left open–this is the seat directly in front of the model.

Am I thinking, oh fuck yeh, I getta sit two meters away from a nekkid lady awesommmmm?


I get my shit out, grumbling and harumphing… then the model walks in.

I’m a positive person. It doesn’t matter WHAT the model looks like, I will find the beautiful feature in them and I will focus on it and draw it out, pun kind of intended. So what’s a person like me to do when EVERY DETAIL of the model is beautiful? Beauty overload.
Stendhal Syndrome II.

Ponytail like a platinum waterfall, black eyes dark eyebrows  (dark eyed blond people KILL me) balletic neck, fragile shoulders, big thighs, skin the color of the snowfall we never got this year…

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