There was an unexpected denouement to my last life modelling session at The Sun in Clapham Common. The group’s organiser, Aless, asked if I would be willing to run a Life Draw N4 group in Crouch Hill. Both regular organisers, Aless and Julia, would be away that day. I was both flattered and humbled by their trust, and of course agreed.
Only later did paranoia seep in. I pondered quite how much damage could be done by a lone man making an unimaginably incompetent job of running a life drawing session. Aless emailed me a superbly comprehensive set of instructions so any disaster could only be of my own making,
Allowing for any possibility, I arrived at least an hour early and found our room in The Old Dairy pub still set out with tables and chairs for diners. It was not long, however, before a member of staff pitched up to help. We stacked tables in front of the frosted windows, and I arranged the chairs in a wide rectangle.
A trolley laden with paper and boards was wheeled out, as was a suitcase stuffed with assorted art goodies: pencils, pastels, loyalty cards, donations box and much more. I laid out everything on a table with obsessive compulsive neatness, as if anyone would care, and then sat down.
The first artists arrived twenty minutes early and I duly took their money and stamped their loyalty cards. They in turn helped themselves to art materials and left their small cash donations. Simple! Maybe my mild paranoia was a tad uncalled for after all.
More artists rocked up – 12 in all – as did our model, Edward. Being both mature and much experienced, he needed no gratuitous attention from the likes of me. We began at 7pm sharp. Edward stripped and stood in pose on the blanket and sheet I’d spread at the middle of the room.
The pose times would be much the same as my own the last time I’d modelled at this venue: 5 minutes, 4, 3, 2, 1, then 10 minutes, 15, 20, followed by a break and a half-hour pose to close at 8:45pm. Timing these on my mobile I called ‘one minute to go’ and ‘last ten seconds’ for every pose, plus half time, 7 minutes and 3 minutes on the longer poses.
I had imagined I might be rather bored and lapse into reading a book once the poses were under way, but instead I found something rather compelling about watching the seconds count down while the artists toiled serenely. It would have been a mite rude, albeit fascinating, to spend the whole time looking over their shoulders.
8:45pm: job done. The evening seemed to go without a hitch. I paid Edward and the bar duty manager, took a groat or two for myself, and then packed away. The artists drifted home with smiles and polite thank-yous, which I took as a good sign.
There’s no doubt that first and foremost I am a model rather than an event organiser, yet if this experience is typical then I would happily do the job again, if asked. I was blessed with a friendly crowd for my initiation – I dare say there are more demanding customers out there – but it’s the stuff of life. I was glad to have been able to help.
Music. It’s the life model’s friend. It transports the mind out of its frozen, achy body; it measures time in lengths of three to five minutes; and sometimes, the nicest times, it can bestow small unexpected bursts of happiness.
Such was the case this warm bright Monday evening, modelling at The Sun pub near Clapham Common. From a hot and cool playlist of funk, ska and eclectic mellowness there suddenly came springing…
Once again I was modelling for the Life Draw N4 team, operating from their southern venue as The Sun and Nude. It was a new venue for me. The life drawing took place upstairs from the main bar in a room awash with midsummer evening light.
Five cushions occupied centre space on the dark wooden floor. To these I added a low wooden stool to sit on, and spread a large sheet over the lot. I’ve taken to bringing two king-size sheets to bookings: one white, one purple. For this session, I decided purple would work best. No-one raised an objection.
The pose sequence to start was 5 minutes, 4, 3, 2, 1, then 10 minutes, 10, 15 and 15 minutes – a mixture of standing, seated, squatting and kneeling positions, alternating my direction throughout. There was a pretty good turn out for this one, so artists were in numbers all around, all deserving a variety of angles.
After a break I settled down for a half-hour long pose, laying with my body curved, one leg bent under me and one arm crooked across my face.
There were 8 minutes left for one final pose. I’d intended to finish on my feet, but come the moment I didn’t quite have it in me. Instead I squatted with arms curled around my legs, my face angled up towards the fresco-painted ceiling.
It seemed that no sooner was I in position than the playlist treated me to Mercy Seat by Ultra Vivid Scene – a much-loved indie track from my student days. A more heart-warming melodic dirge I could not hope to end with. The hardest thing to hold in pose is a smile. Not this time.
Afterwards, while I was chatting with a few of the artists, one kindly gave me a portrait she had created from the final pose. She said, half-laughing, that I would probably put it on my pile of other papers. Little did she realise that in all my years of life modelling it was the first drawing I’d been given!
Small unexpected bursts of happiness… all add to the enjoyment of life art.
Incredible to think it has been ten long months since my debut for Life Draw N4 in Crouch Hill. Frustratingly during that time I’d had to decline two potential bookings at their venue, The Old Dairy, due to prior commitments. Now, at last, I was back.
Whether it was due to summer holidays, or Wimbledon tennis, or World Cup football, the crowd of artists had thinned somewhat. Not quite one man and his dog; more like 10 to 12 people and a dog. Still, it is a nice friendly group, with a comfortable amount of working space for all.
I spread my large white sheet across the middle of the function room floor, and over a small pillow-cushioned stool. When the dressing gown came off, the art commenced.
For much of the time I was posing with my back was to the curtain that separated the function room from the main bars. How much could be glimpsed by bar patrons as the artists came and went for drinks, I know not, and mind less.
Certainly when a double-decker bus pulled up outside, anyone on the upper deck who happened to glance through the clear glass at the top of our otherwise frosted window would have caught a generous eyeful. Pens at the ready, I hope, as the bus idled for a good long while.
The pose sequence for the first session started 5 minutes, 4, 3, 2, 1, increasing to 10, 15 and 20 minutes up to the break.
Left: 3 minutes, 1 minute, 2 minutes; right: 10 minutes, 15 minutes
15 minute standing pose
20 minute reclining pose
20 minute reclining pose
After a 10-minute rest, I resumed with a single 35-minute pose to take the session to its end. A warm, unbidden round of applause helped coax my numb, rigid limbs back to life. We were done.
35 minute seated pose
The time seemed to fly by – always the sign of a good session. A few positive words from artists at the end sent me on my way with an extra spring in my step.
35 minute seated pose
Next work will be for the same group on Monday, at The Sun in Clapham – I wait ten months for a booking and then two come at once. The more the merrier, I say.
How good to be back modelling at Eastbourne House for Adrian Dutton. It had been two months since my last work in Bethnal Green; three months since my last visit to the venue; and it was the first time in 2014 I would be working solo for one of Adrian’s groups. He and Anya were already setting up when I arrived.
For reasons I never did work out there were all manner of bizarre props in the hall. On the downside this meant I was limited for space in which to change, but it also meant I could pose with some odd items. Adrian had already picked out a rickety nineteenth century wheelchair for me to pose with. I added an empty wine bottle and a gruesome model severed head. Adrian denounced the latter as “horrible” but I found it irresistible.
My posing space was prepared, seats were set out and all we lacked was artists. At our 7pm start time there was still just a handful present. We contemplated putting on the kettle as we waited for more people to turn up. Those already there deserved their full money’s worth, however, so I entered the arena.
The short poses
Adrian gave me a warm introduction ahead of my first pose, which would be the usual starter for 10 minutes. The room was quite full by the end. I moved on to five quick-fire one-minute poses, followed by three short poses of three minutes, three minutes, five minutes. I used my first prop – the wine bottle – in a three minute pose laying flat out, pretending to take a long swig.
On the right: the starter for 10, and five one-minute poses
Five one-minute poses
One-minute kneeling pose
One-minute standing pose
One-minute standing pose
Clockwise from top left: five minutes, three minutes, three minutes
Clockwise from top left: five minutes, three minutes, three minutes
Medium poses
Next was a standing pose with left hand pointing up and right palm facing down. This was to last 10 minutes but it felt more like five. Maybe I was too comfortable. Another 10-minute pose was a tad more strenuous, leaning forwards with hands up around my head and my full weight bearing down through one leg. I took it easier for the following 15-minutes, seated in the wheelchair.
Two 10-minute standing poses
10-miunte standing pose
Clockwise from bottom left: three, five, 10, 10 and 15-minute poses
15 minutes, 10 minutes and 10 minutes
15-miuntes seated pose in wheelchair
Taking a break
There was a nice surprise ahead of our refreshments break: Adrian announced that he and Anya had married at the weekend. We applauded warmly, and I suddenly had the peculiar sensation of life modelling at a couple’s honeymoon. A big spread of wedding wine and nibbles had been set out for us to feast upon, and we were all invited to leave a comment in the wedding book. Happy times.
Art unattended during our refreshment break
Longer poses
A long interval left just 45 minutes to close the evening. Adrian asked for a 20-minute pose and a 25-minute pose. It’s not unusual to end a pose sequence either seated or horizontal but I rather felt like finishing on my feet. Thus it would be 20 minutes laying down and 25 minutes standing. Time to bring in the last prop.
A challenge for the long poses is to find positions that offer an interesting perspective from every vantage point in the room. I feel sorry for artists when they’re facing a long session with nothing but a back to look at. Thus, I lay down bent at a right angle with one leg crooked upwards, my body up on one elbow, and both hands reaching out to the severed head. Something for everyone, surely.
When standing for 25 minutes I held out the head on an extended forearm and leaned backwards. I was nicely balanced and felt comfortable throughout. Nonetheless when Adrian called time and I tried to straighten myself it felt as though my spine had been set in concrete. Gingerly I eased back into motion.
20 minutes laying sideways
20 minutes laying sideways
20 minutes laying sideways
20 minutes laying sideways
20 minutes laying sideways
25 minutes standing, 20 minutes laying sideways
25 minutes standing, 20 minutes laying sideways
25 minutes standing, 20 minutes laying sideways
25 minute standing pose
25 minute standing pose
25 minute standing pose
25 minute standing pose
After taking photographs of the many splendid artworks, I returned to where I’d left my clothes, only to find they were buried under tables and chairs as stacked away by the artists. A bit of clambering was needed to get fully dressed.
From the novel quirkiness of naked bike riding, volunteering at the Royal Academy and being photographed by Spencer Tunick it felt satisfying to be back putting in a full night of solo poses for a large circle of artists. I like the purity and simplicity of this work, along with its flipside: the challenge of somehow injecting a little originality each time. It went pretty well, I thought, and I’m raring to go for the next one.
We’re looking for 2 friendly Art Macabre friends to come help out on the evening of Sat 21 June, at the Midsummer Night’s Fête event at Royal Academy next Friday.
You’ll get to be part of an exciting event featuring music from Gabby Young, vintage stalls, art, and get in for free (tickets worth £25 each)… plus lure people into our Midsummer themed death drawing workshops, whilst dressed as a woodland creature. Fancy it? Message us now!
Thus came the call from Art Macabre, ten days before they were due to be part of a Midsummer Night’s Fête at the Royal Academy of Art (RA) in London. It may not have been life modelling work or even expenses-paid work, but such an opportunity is not to be missed. I offered my services and was glad to have them accepted.
Art Macabre supremo, Nikki aka Raven Rouge, was away taking death drawing to the green and pleasant land of Warwickshire’s Also Festival, so stepping in as MC was the mighty Jon. I had modelled with Jon at my very first Art Macabre salon wherein he was strongman Victor and I was the skeleton clown, Egon. It was a pleasure to be working with him again.
Jon in character, your master of ceremonies, © Jon
Our midsummer salon at the Royal Academy was to be “a dark and twisted vision of Shakespeare’s classic shape-shifting tale of fairie queens and bare Bottoms”. Of the performers:
- Jon would be King Oberon
- Kate would be Titania, Queen of the Fairies
- Peter would be Nick Bottom, and later Puck
- Elizabeth would be the feminine side of Bottom/Puck
My fellow volunteers were Amy and Farida. We helped to prepare the stage and pack away afterwards, but our main job was to entice and lure people towards Art Macabre in the RA’s famous life drawing room. We wouldn’t be modelling, right? No, there’s no way that could happen…
The model’s stage under construction, © Peter
Jon was early on the scene, while the rest of us mustered around 6pm. Elizabeth ran into difficulty as she tried to get past increasingly thick layers of security at the main gate. I was dispatched to see if I could help, but by the time I got there she’d already vanished. So I returned to the life drawing room and, lo, there she was. A determined model will always find a way to be where they’re needed.
Body-painted leaves began creeping up Peter’s forearms while Kate whitened her face and began applying delicate black details. To my untrained eye, the individual strokes appeared minimal but the overall effect was rather powerful. Here was someone highly skilled and well practised in their craft. A bewitching headdress and dainty fairy wings completed the queen’s ensemble.
As the models prepared their costume and make-up, so did the volunteers. ‘Dark’ and ‘woodlands’ were our watchwords. Amy and Farida wore elegant black dresses, which they festooned with flowers, and wove more blooms into their hair. I went shirtless, but with a tight black waistcoat and black bow-tie, khaki shorts, a wide-brimmed straw hat and a weaving of ivy, flowers and cherries. Nice.
Amy and myself made midsummery
Doors to the fête opened at 6:30pm; the first Art Macabre drop-in session was to run from 7pm to 8:15pm. We didn’t want anyone there early, but neither did we want the room empty for too long. With so much variety on offer at the Academy we could not be sure how high we’d be among the visitors’ priorities. Certainly most seemed to be making a beeline for the bars and then soaking up the atmosphere of the courtyard.
The Royal Academy of Art gets a lawn, © Farida
As crowds come in, so the dancing begins… © Farida
…while others settle down for some alfresco creativity, © Farida
At 7pm sharp I made a move, sidling towards the first innocents to drift in my vicinity. “Would you be at all interested in a spot of life drawing?” I enquired tentatively of two gentlemen. I had strayed somewhat from the planned line about “dreamlike dark and deathly visions” but they needed no further persuasion. I escorted them merrily to the life drawing room and showed them into Jon’s care. Two in the bag. We were off.
It was as easy as that all evening. About halfway through the first session I decided a specific lure would drum up even more interest than individual enticements. Next time I was back at the life drawing room I scribed a couple of large signs for us to brandish. Visitors could tell by our dress that we were part of the fête, but now they would know our purpose. Now they came to us.
Luring and enticing, part I – Farida, © Farida
Luring and enticing, part II – Amy and me
We were too successful. Even before 8pm Jon told me they were already at capacity and that we should start asking people to come to the next sessions from 8:30pm or 9:15pm. This we did, yet still they kept coming. The Academy had sold more than a thousand tickets for the fête; at best the life drawing room could hold 40 to 50 people.
Jon did tremendous work managing both the crowds and the timing of each pose, not to mention sticking to his script as MC for the event. Crowd control was aided by the nice happy-go-lucky attitude of everyone we spoke too. It was a gentle laidback party atmosphere. The models remained serenely professional throughout.
There was to be no lure for the final session. It was already over-subscribed, with RA staff managing a waiting list for people wanting to get in. The question was asked: if there are more people who would like to draw than can be fit in the life drawing room, would the volunteers be willing to model in the corridor outside? Of course we would. Not nude, but striking five-minute poses for anyone who wished to take advantage.
I stripped to my bow-tie and shorts for standing poses. Farida also stood, while Amy was seated on the floor. Hopefully Farida was comfortable as she had one gentleman drawing her throughout the entire session. Amy and I had a few people drawing us to start with, and Peter also joined us in the corridor, fully-clothed having finished as one of the main models.
Peter, post-modelling, steps discreetly into the courtyard, © Peter
As one woman sat to draw me she cried, “come on, get ’em off.” Peter gave me a sly look, then turned back to the woman and cautioned, “you won’t have to ask him more than twice.” Nonetheless, more encouragement was forthcoming. I glanced both ways along the corridor, unbuttoned my shorts – beneath which I was commando – and got as far as lowering one side… “No, no, that’s enough!” she hastily implored. There’s an old saying that goes: ‘be careful what you wish for…’
She stuck to her task a made a pretty decent job of roughing me. I’m happy because even though I wasn’t there in a life modelling capacity, I can now rightly claim to have been drawn in pose at the Royal Academy of Art – a trifling disingenuous indulgence, but pleasing. I held one final pose alongside Peter until the life drawing room began to empty. All was done, and so were we.
It’s me, captured with bow-tie and loosened shorts
The fête finished, we dressed and cleared away. Last man out was Jon. He had been outstanding as a source of calm authority, organisation and clear diction. Certainly he would be returning for Art Macabre, and maybe Amy would too. Her initial interest was as an artist – witness the extensive embellishments to her ‘life drawing’ sign – but by the end I think she’d got the modelling bug too.
Amy prepares for a spot of modelling at the Royal Academy, © Farida
It had been a superb evening. All it was lacking – apart from the complimentary gins and tonic that we eyed enviously from afar – was Nikki herself, and Linsay and other Art Macabre regulars. I sincerely hoped that wherever they were, whatever they were doing, they’d had as much fun as ourselves.
The team: Jon, Amy, Me, Kate, Peter, Farida and Elizabeth, © Jon for Art Macabre
In the beginning
12 June 2004, 8pm, a band of 58 naked cyclists rode 2.5 miles around Hyde Park; it was the first World Naked Bike Ride (WNBR) protest in the UK capital. Since then it has become a major annual event on the streets of London. When it took place for the tenth time last year, participants had increased to thirteen hundred. This year’s tenth anniversary outing was primed to be the largest ever.
To the Tower
A big innovation for 2013 was to vex the voyeurs that assemble before each ride by spreading its start across five different locations: Hyde Park, Regent’s Park, King’s Cross, Clapham Junction and West Norwood. This year a sixth start was added, at Tower Hill. As its organiser was my friend Natansky, this would be the start for me.
Another difference this year was the weather. The 2013 ride took place on the only dazzling day in an otherwise cold, wet week. This year looked like being the exact reverse. Conditions had been overcast all morning. By 1pm I was pedalling towards Tower Hill station through light rain. It petered out as I arrived, but prospects for the afternoon ahead remained uncertain.
The official assembly time was 2:30pm for a 3pm start. I drifted into Trinity Square Gardens opposite Tower Hill, an hour early to see if I could help with preparations. For a while I thought I was first to arrive, until eventually I discovered Natansky with Lee Rex – our companion last month for Spencer Tunick in Folkestone – already being body painted in the vaulted corridor of Tower Hill Memorial.
Lee was already halfway through being decorated neck-to-ankles as a leather-clad biker – extraordinary artistry by Valbona Bicker – while David Southworth of the UK Bodypaint League was applying finishing touches to a pair of green bloodshot eyes on Natansky’s boobs.
The eyes were concealed beneath a fluorescent vest when official duty called. I took over as the artist’s canvas, and gave David a free hand to paint whatever he liked. He in turn gave me a large yellow cartoon bird’s head on my chest. I was well satisfied.
Natansky – London Naked Bike Ride official start organiser
Me – with a, erm… rooster on my chest.
As the clock ticked round, so more people joined us in the memorial. Some were our fellow riders, others were curious onlookers, while a few were just shameless voyeurs. Among the riders were friends from previous events: Camila, Chris, Cy, Gil and Robin. Another friendly face was photographer Scott – London remains a small village.
My pitiful efforts to help went no further than accompanying Natansky on a single lap of Trinity Square Gardens, and then failing to sell a single WNBR saddle cover. I did, however, put myself among the first riders on the corner of Trinity Square at a quarter to three, frontline, ready to hit the road.
To my left was a couple who’d arrived already painted head-to-toe: one red with horns, the other green with leaves. Just behind me was Clare, who could hardly stop grinning at the bizarreness unfolding all around. Next one back was a chap with a young child and a large sound system strapped behind him. And everywhere else cyclists were in various states of undress, attracting the predictable circle of amateur photographers.
Lining up to start – red devil, green goddess
Whistle while you wait – Clare raring to go
Hell’s Boris Biker – Lee revs up
Me – poised to saddle-up (photo by © Maria Sierra)
Unmoved by double-red lines – Chris and Camila (photo by © Scott H.)
Sound system guy, with the Tower of London and Tower Bridge behind
The ride to Westminster
The cry went up at three o’clock and we were away. Natanksy stepped naked into the middle of the road, fluorescent vest held high over her head, and brought all traffic to a standstill. We streamed out of Trinity Square, rolling right into Byward Street and then onwards to Lower Thames Street, Upper Thames Street and Victoria Embankment.
At last – wheels in motion on Lower Thames Street
Almost immediately we were surrounded by cheers and waving. Whether pedestrians to our left, or motorists and tourist-bus passengers to our right, or the crowds leaning over bridges on high, everybody seemed happy to see us. Elsewhere across London, the other five start groups were also by now on the move.
I lost sight of Lee very early and for the remainder of that day, which was a great pity. Cy too, disappeared from view until we were over the finish line. Of those unknown to me in our group, however, I was pleased to see one of the more iconic regulars of this ride: the lady with the bright red bob.
Red-bob lady coasts along Victoria Embankment
The plan was that the Hyde Park, Regent’s Park and King’s Cross starters would all come together as a single group at Piccadilly. Meanwhile, the Clapham Junction and West Norwood starters would merge at Vauxhall Bridge. These two mammoth groups would then converge with our own Tower Hill group at 3:30pm on Westminster Bridge.
We turned off Victoria Embankment into Northumberland Avenue, inching between red buses as we moved closer and closer to Trafalgar Square. At the north end we got our first glimpse of riders from the other groups streaming past in front of us. The plan was working – full credit to the organisers.
Slow progress behind buses along Northumberland Avenue
At Trafalgar Square I spied Natansky again, and the words ‘DOING IT FOR WILL’ that I’d painted on her back. The same words were daubed across my own back. This was our tribute to Will Golden who’d marshalled last year’s ride so magnificently.
Natansky at Trafalgar Square – doing it for Will
Will’s incredible battle with cancer prevented him being with us again this year. Our thoughts remained with him, however, as did the thoughts of many well-wishers who spoke with us throughout the day to honour his name.
Natansky lingered here a while to make sure all her Tower Hill starters got through and merged safely with the main group. She stayed at the back of the pack for the rest of the ride, so this – alas – was the last I saw of her until we reached the end.
Natansky in command – naked crowd control in central London
I pushed on, hanging a sharp left into Whitehall, passing Downing Street and assorted government buildings. The Palace of Westminster loomed large on our horizon. As our groups coalesced, so the clouds split asunder and sunshine spilled down upon us.
Wheeling down Whitehall, waving and whistling to well-wishers
Crowds and traffic thickened again as we neared Parliament Square – a favourite part of the route. There’s always a warm response from the foreign sightseers who throng here to see our living history, then suddenly get the unexpected bonus of a thousand naked cyclists pouring through the heart of it.
Entering Parliament Square, a lovely day to be on an open-top bus
All eyes on the London Eye?
Bridge to bridge
Our exit from Parliament Square was Westminster Bridge, where we ground to a halt for several minutes. Whether this was due to weight of traffic, or waiting for stragglers, I know not. Either way, we were a gift to the heaving masses of tourists that lined the west pavement. The photo opportunities here are always superb, but on this day…
Caught by © Scott H. in front of St Stephen’s Tower (Big Ben, if you like).
It wasn’t just friends and tourists and fellow cyclists taking photos here. Somewhere on the bridge I managed to get myself snapped for publication in Time Out London. And I never even got the chance to discuss my fee!
When eventually we cleared Westminster Bridge, we turned left onto York Road and began a short excursion south of the river. As per last year, our first destination was Forum Magnum Square to pause and get all the cyclists together before completing our journey. Again, progress was grindingly slow due to sheer weight of numbers.
Are we there yet? Westward to Forum Magnum Square
Diablo Delenfer – one of the more colourful characters on York Road
Forum Magnum Square was where I spotted Chas: friend and regular fellow performer of nude art. He’d given himself a good chance of being spotted by selecting a top hat tied with a long red silk scarf as his only garment.
We bantered about plans for future modelling in Berlin. Nearby a chap entertained the troops by walking naked on his hands – a curious sight that garnered much applause. And somewhere around here I got snapped for publication by the Londonist.
Back on our bikes we spewed forth from the north side of the square, looped round to York Road and wheeled left up to Waterloo Bridge. Another familiar face was spotted taking pics on the bridge so we stopped once more for a chat and photos.
The Olympic legacy – British cycling at its very finest
Saddled-up for the north side of town
Around the courts
As is now the tradition, our next rest break would be at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Our route north from the Thames took us along Lancaster Place, around Aldwych to the Strand, and on to Fleet Street. A left hand into Chancery Lane, and then… I lost my bearings. But two turns later were at our destination.
Free to go – passing the Royal Courts of Justice on the Strand
Room at the inn – pausing for breath at Lincoln’s Inn Fields
Theatreland
Our lingering at Lincoln’s Inn Fields did not seem to last as long this year as it has in previous years. Or maybe I just lost track of time. Back in the saddle we swept along Great Queen Street, passing the Prince of Wales pub and pushing on to Long Acre.
Last year a barrier in the road made our loop through Covent Garden the most tedious crawl of the whole route. This time the area was bypassed completely as we circuited north along Endell Street then across Shelton Street before heading back south, down St Martin’s Lane. In these narrow passages the atmosphere turned to a carnival of dub reggae and street dancing.
Dancing queen on a golden streak
Window shopping – bagging a cheeky selfie
Into the light – down St Martin’s Lane towards St Martin-in-the-Field
From St Martin’s Lane we wheeled around St Martin’s Place and back onto Trafalgar Square. Our roads ahead were wide and largely empty. Only traffic lights would slow us now, but with the sun breaking through again, no-one was in a hurry to finish.
A right and then a left – coneheads lead us around St Martin’s Place
Passing between St Martin-in-the-Field and the National Portrait Gallery
Around Trafalgar Square beneath the stony gaze of Admiral Lord Nelson
The home straight
If one part of the route conjures a greater sense of freedom than any other, it is surely The Mall. Once through Admiralty Arch this regal red road, broad and straight, opens grandiosely before us, its entire length lined with huge pristine Union Flags. At its far end the immense façade of Buckingham Palace beckoned us forward.
Bringing it on – through Admiralty Arch to The Mall
Makes yer proud – the great British public descends on its monarch
Selfie in motion on The Mall – well, who wouldn’t?
For some, The Mall was a place of reunion…
…whilst others had stuck together throughout
Is that you twitching the curtains, Ma’am?
We turned onto Constitution Hill for the final leg of our journey. Naturally, scores of us dismounted for an opportunist photograph outside Buck House. There were still a few tourists left over from Trooping the Colour earlier that day and several joined in the fun. Back on two wheels I checked my watch: it was twenty past five. We’d been cruising naked around the centre of London for almost two and a half hours.
The end in sight – Wellington Arch in the distance
The end
At the top of the Hill, we found the wearyingly-inevitable predatory rabble of slavering damp-trousered photographers. Some water-pistol-toting women made certain those trousers got even damper whenever a camera was pointed at them without the basic courtesy of first asking permission.
Armed and dangerous – a masked avenger, naked nemesis of voyeurs
This year, rather than crossing beneath Wellington Arch for our finish, we took a sharp right at the top of Constitution Hill to finish in Green Park instead, close to the Bomber Command Memorial. Friends from the Tower Hill start who had lost sight of each other on the road, slowly drifted back into company.
We’re puttin’ the band back together
And here at last was Cy. An ever-reliable veteran of the ride, he’d once more captured video footage of the whole thing on a small camera hanging around his neck. His next challenge would be the race to publish first on YouTube.
Quite how I lost sight of a man trailing a large orange flag, I don’t know
Within 24 hours, the “World Naked Bike Ride (WNBR) London 2014 – A Rider’s View” was online. Victory was Cy’s:
Denouement
It had been another great ride – doing it to demonstrate our vulnerability as cyclists on the road; to protest car culture and oil dependency; to celebrate individuality and body freedom; to have a bloody good time. And – this year – doing it for Will Golden.
Here’s to absent friends.
By no conventional standard do I have a ‘good’ body. It’s the only one I’ve got though, and I’m fairly well at peace with its limitations so I do my best to make the most of it.
Wondrously, the lack of a conventionally good body is no hindrance to progress a life model. Artists value originality and variety. And while my body may be an accident of birth, my application, attitude and attentiveness are in my own hands.
All this comes to mind as some slight acts that I take for granted were unexpectedly complimented on Tuesday evening. I’d been booked to model for a group led by Aaron Jones, a friend and all-round creative talent from many an Art Macabre salon.
First compliment came with the booking itself: “It’s gonna be a hands and feet theme for the first half and I really like the expressive poses you do with your hands, hence wanting your services! Second half is a long nude pose.”
The slight acts on the day itself were, first: the sending of an early courtesy email to reconfirm I would be arriving when expected; and second: bringing my own sheet on which to pose. I’ve always thought these things were important and to some extent I take them for granted, but it’s still nice when they’re appreciated.
To the business of posing. Having been told that the first half would be hands and feet I was a bit hesitant before undressing. Strictly speaking one doesn’t have to be nude in order to have one’s hands drawn, but hands in relation to limbs and body were all part of the programme so I stripped completely.
Timings for this first session were two lots of five-minutes, four quick-fire one-minutes, then 10 minutes and finally a 20 minute pose. All with the emphasis on hands.
After a break for watermelon and wine we resumed with feet; once again starting with two five-minute poses, then 10 minutes, and closing with a 30 minute long pose.
Aaron was giving detailed one-to-one advice throughout both sessions to each of the four artists present. This remains one of my favourite kinds of art group – it’s always fascinating to hear observations and knowledge imparted. Not even a numbed foot at the end could detract from a positive reminder of the nicest aspects of life modelling.
steve ritter 