We formed a circle around a naked girl, about 15 students, standing behind our easels, three mornings a week, big sheets of drawing paper, Ebony pencils, conti crayons, kneaded erasers, and tortillions; sketching various poses.

My nineteen year old, southern, male, ego was imperiled by my lack of talent in figure drawing; my fear of being exposed equaling the degree to which the model was exposed.

I found a way to get through it. At the end of the semester I had plenty of work and, reluctant to throw it away, I stuffed everything into a portfolio and put it in storage for the summer.

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