First blog post ever, I don’t even know what to say. What do you do here? Introduce oneself and then have an absolute meltdown whilst talking about yourself in front of an invisible class? I digress and broke the Fourth wall. Again. My name is Aaron Bogan, a male figure model with twenty years of experience under my belt. I specialize in dynamic gesture poses due to my extensive martial arts background. I have modeled for Pixar, Lucas Arts, TellTale Games, EA Games and the like. I am wildly notorious for wielding dual katanas, spewing one liners and morphing into a Caramel Don Rickles onstage.
What some of you don’t know is that I am an illustrator and an Academy of Art University alumnus. With that I am on both sides of the canvas. The beauty of being an artist and a figure model is that you have a sharper understanding of how the human form ebbs and flows. You know what the artist is looking for because YOU possess the ability to pose in a way that answers all your questions as a creator. I owe a lot of my onstage prowess to the great Jack Kirby, George Bridgman and Frank Frazetta. These artists all share an incendiary passion for theatricality and the never ending battle of man and monster.
Being a figure model and an artist has been a harmonious symbiotic relationship where both worlds bounce off each other. You’re wondering how I became an art model? Well it isn’t a superhero origin story…well maybe perhaps it is. I had a buddy of mine in art school who was shooting reference photos for his thesis and he chose me because I know a thing or two about katanas. I struck a pose and he was in utter shock at how dynamically animated my movements were. “Bro, YOU should model here at AAU because nobody does what you DO!” I was reluctant but then I thought about it; “Do I wanna work customer service in college to a point where I start headbutting the clientele of a Pinkberry or do I wanna take a chance and express myself onstage for a few bucks? Twenty years later I’ve been doing the damn thing leaving every stage I set foot on ablaze.
Growing up around comics and horror films, they all come together and manifest in my illustrations. I kind of have this thing where I take iconic superheroes and turn them into monstrosities. I mean, you look at Superman knowing he’s a beacon of hope then there I go casually turning him into the undead with an adverse reaction to Kryptonite and crucifixes. In terms of modeling, my poses are clearly inspired by Jack Kirby because his figure studies were filled with drama. Call me biased, but the Golden Age of Marvel was the best era for expressive and dynamic body mechanics and storytelling. So thanks Jack for shaping me into becoming the closest thing you get to a real life comic accurate Wolverine.
I didn’t come here only to talk about the duality of artist and model. I came here to talk about the deeper and more often than not darker aspects of figure modeling that artists may not be aware of.
I’m tackling the uncomfortable reality of what goes on in my head while modeling. Figure modeling isn’t as glamorous as it’s made out to be. A lot of us choose to ignore our health for the sake of keeping a roof over our heads. In the two decades I’ve been in this game I have modeled with broken bones. Couldn’t mourn the deaths of my grandparents due to being a good soldier and reporting to the stage. I was discharged from the ER and went straight to work because I had to make the rent.I have modeled with COVID twice and hid it for the same reason. I never told my boss that I was homeless living in the crawlspace of a dojo while also being physically, mentally and emotionally abused by my sensei. I have witnessed who I thought was the love of my life flirt with another man right in front of me while onstage. We went from being inseparable lovers to absolute strangers. Bad enough models are overlooked, underpaid, undervalued and overworked but on that day I felt like less than lint. Hurt so much I broke out into hives. I have seen worlds collapse. I have died and been resurrected, all while onstage.There’s physical pain while posing, yes, but the real pain is in the mind and in the heart. For the artists, we put on smiles, look pretty and pose with grace but there’s so much more to going on than what you see onstage.
I struggle so much with self worth and it’s embarrassing to admit that because I’ve always been the “tough guy” for the last two decades. I often get asked what I think about while I am on the model stand. I like to be cheeky and say; “Snacks. I think about food and snacks while I’m up here.” Partly true. I do like my snacks but most of the time, if not all the time I’m hurting emotionally. Onstage I exude absolute power and like a fun sized Zorro with the “SWOOSH!” of my blades I'm commanding the whole room. I always perform at an optimal level no matter the circumstance. Do or Die. But when I’m done performing, all my demons and insecurities come rushing in with a scorched earth level of intensity. The voices in my head constantly shouting; “YOU’RE DOING ALL THIS? Giving your soul and all that you are for $22 an hour?! You don’t belong. You’re an outcast. You’ll never amount to anything. You’ll always come up short no matter how hard you push yourself.”
It’s paradoxical being an unstoppable force onstage but when the lights are off and the show’s over these are the battles I endure in silence. I don’t know if I’ll be seen in a different light for better or for worse but this is who I am beyond the swords, machismo and dry effervescent sarcasm. There are days when the pain gets so severe that I wish I could simply disappear. Even writing that sentence is difficult because, as a man, admitting how deeply I struggle with my mental health can feel humiliating. But that is part of the reality I wanted to talk about.There’s a story behind all my combative poses because they’re all physical manifestations of the ongoing wars I have mentally and emotionally. It’s funny because artists get pure entertainment behind these expressive gestures when the truth is so much bleaker.
You were hoping for a more upbeat blog, huh? I mean I could tell you a story of how I accidentally ate two pot cookies, got unspeakably high onstage and cried hysterically all while dressed up as Spider Man but I’ll save that for another blog. If you’re a model and are afraid to talk about your own mental health issues I hope that what I just wrote spoke to you in a way to let you know you’re not alone. How I got therapy wasn’t through some cinematic 80's montage of defeat, redemption and resurrection. It was purely having the courage to be vulnerable and talk to my modeling friends.
I still feel uncomfortable coming forth and talking about my issues because everyone has them. To me it seems most don’t wanna listen so I internalize a lot of emotions. To my friends who were there to sit down and listen to a Chocolate Wolverine ramble on about the day’s melancholic casserole, thank you for helping me find the strength to seek therapy. You know who you are. As of now, I’m seeing a therapist online through my insurance. Sometimes, the first step in healing is simply just talking to people you trust and these days it’s hard to come by considering all the vitriol in the world. As an illustrator, I obviously do have an Instagram that you can follow if horror art, observational humor and occasional artwork showcasing my seemingly permanent scowl is your thing. Follow away. Right now I’m beefing up my portfolio whenever I have precious time to put my paintbrush to canvas as modeling consumes a good chunk of my life. My dream is to be a cover artist for DC and to simply be paid to do what I love (that’s far less strenuous and painful as modeling). The next time an artist makes $20K off a painting with my image or my colleague’s, make sure you say our names and remember that you not only immortalized our essence and our souls on the canvas but also the heartbreak, triumph, and grit we carry onstage.
Editors Note: Aaron was featured in Hyperallergic May 2026 15 Artists Share the Best Advice they got from their Mother
Follow Aaron @illustrationbyaaron
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