Not that one needs an excuse be naked. It can happen any time in private, isn’t even illegal in public, frequently occurs in the name of ‘art‘, and is increasingly fashionable for ‘causes‘. World Naked Bike Rides protest against car culture, skinny dips have been fund-raisers for Marie Curie Cancer Care and more recently the British Heart Foundation (BHF)… and now the latter is also supported by Naked Heart Walks.
British Naturism co-hosts sponsored Naked Heart Walks with the BHF, to achieve a “mutual goal of keeping people healthy and fit“. They add that walking “is a great way to get some exercise, and it’s even more fun in the nude!” No doubt! I took part in my first Naked Heart Walk at RSPB Rainham Marshes on Sunday 23 July 2023. All fifty places had sold out. I joined my fellow walkers in the venue’s cafe at 5:15pm.
I don’t consider myself naturist in any formal or ideological sense – no ideology has a monopoly on nakedness. I simply do what speaks to my own heart, which sometimes crosses over with British Naturism’s structured activities. Officials explained the rules, top of which was “no photographing anyone else“, before we all ventured outdoors in the low summer sunlight to explore bramble-hemmed trails and birdwatchers’ cabins.
The trail around RSPB Rainham Marshes is roughly circular but its far end was out of bounds, meaning we had to go almost halfway anti-clockwise then double-back to do the other almost-half clockwise before doubling-back again. We began as a group, in which I had a few breezy conversations, but eventually we thinned out and I went my own way in easy quietness. With nobody in the background, I sneaked selfies.
Our walk took place after the site had been closed to the general public, but we were told that closest to the River Thames we might be visible to passers-by on a footpath along adjacent flood defences. Indeed we were. And you know what? Nobody cared, clothed or naked. Live and let live. If we didn’t have a deadline of 8pm for returning to the cafe, I could have happily stayed a long time. Alas, shadows were lengthening.
Thus I returned to the cafe with just under 10 minutes to spare, a smile upon my face and foraged blackberries in my belly. It had been a nice, gentle, peaceful evening. I’d been meaning to visit this place for years but never thought it might be like this. I was contented, and content to seek nothing more. Inside the cafe, without further ado, my nakedness ceased and I departed. It had been a good walk.
Two days after returning from a fortnight on the sunny shores of Lake Ohrid in North Macedonia, I felt relieved my first post-vacation modelling job was a portrait booking. Aside my body having a less-than-ideal T-shirt tan, I’d also not been sleeping too well over the previous couple of nights. Though, of course, sleep deprivation has its perils for portrait sitters too.
I was back at the Pigeon Loft Studio above Arts Theatre, in London’s West End for a City Academy class. It was the first of three scheduled classes for a portrait drawing course, with a different model at each. Different tutors too perhaps, as a stand-in was needed this evening due to sickness. Easels were positioned horseshoe-style across the width of the studio, with me sitting about a third of the way into the open end.
There were to be five poses, none of which were timed. The first was a warm-up, the next three were practice exercises taking us halfway through the session, and after a break we finished with one long pose. Inevitably the sleep deprivation caught up with me, to the extent that by the fourth pose my eyelids must surely have been flickering. If so, I was forgiven. Fine drawings suggested quality hadn’t been compromised.
Far more rare than drowsiness at a portrait session, but every bit as understandable, was a request that I wear my hair in a ponytail. Not for the benefit of those who enjoy drawing ponytails but for greater visibility of my whole head and the proportions of its skull. For such purposes a ponytail is preferable to scalping, though normally I would shy away from both. Tonight I was happy to oblige… with a borrowed hair tie.
The last time I modelled at The Birds for Leytonstone Life Drawing it was meant to be day one of a two-day booking over consecutive days, but that night the group was told it couldn’t have the venue for day two. Shortly after, all sessions ceased. Imagine my surprise then – and joy – to find Leytonstone Life Drawing’s bird was a phoenix!
Artwork by Olga Szynkarczuk.
Having risen from ashes to welcome artists back under its wings, the circumstance of this group inviting my own return was what I now call my ‘responsible adult‘ bookings. Post-COVID London is awash with sexy youthful models and groups embracing their mainstream or alt-marketability; but sometimes the imperative is a responsible adult.
Artwork by Olga Szynkarczuk.
On this occasion, group organiser Jenny was away on holiday and had left two of her reliable, regular artists in charge. I think she wanted to make sure they had a reliable, regular model, so I got the call. It’s a compliment, and as I’ve never been mainstream sexy, nor alt-sexy, nor even youthful in many living memories, I’m very grateful for it!
Artwork by Olga Szynkarczuk.
We opened with three 1-minute poses, followed by three of 3 minutes each, then two poses of 5 minutes, one of 15 minutes and a 10-minute pose taking us to an interval. After our break we concluded the session with a single pose of 40 minutes. It was so nice to be back. Everything went superbly well… the only spark missing was Jenny.
In fairness to Jenny she doesn’t only book me as a responsible adult. I have a couple more bookings here later in the year just for the sheer diversity of me. But I reckon at least half a dozen groups now have booked me when stand-ins were due to run their sessions and they wanted a responsible adult to model. I never foresaw that niche!
Artwork by Olga Szynkarczuk.
p.s. Olga’s astounding drawing above is a composite of my 15-minute and 40-minute poses. Check out what she did with it next on her Instagram reel.
At The Conservatoire with tutor Victoria Rance, easels had been set out in a circle for an anticipated full class. Come 7:30pm, most had an artist standing behind them. The left-overs were claimed during my warm-up poses: 1, 1, 1, 5 and 10 minutes.
I felt fresh and was open to any (reasonable) suggestion for the single long pose that would occupy the rest of the evening. Victoria suggested a seated pose, symmetrical and straight-legged. With compromises on symmetry and straightness, I got close.
My back was cushioned, my knees were slightly bent to keep the pose stable and my arms were asymmetrical for the sake of my shoulders. The one area I overlooked: I’d neglected the backwards tilt of my head and consequently had 2 hours of neck ache.
Notwithstanding a pain in the neck, I was fine with just a couple of breaks. Only upon seeing the excellent final works did I realise what I’d unwittingly inspired: 14 drawings of me giving a blood sample at hospital, just as I’d done a few days before. How odd!
To St Pancras Hospital Conference Centre Gallery for the opening of Emerald 20, an exhibition and performance night celebrating 20 years of The Arts Project. I was last here 7 of those years ago, for Loudest Whispers 2016. Then as now, I was a part of an extraordinary ensemble catwalking the colours of Estelle Monsterlune Riviere.
Unlike 7 years ago there was to be no gathering beforehand for fittings. This evening we would simply try and fly. Esther and I would be two of seven Monsterlune models, sharing our catwalk with anyone from the audience who also fancied a strut. First we joined in the party, then we retreated to a tiny basement and got into character.
My outfit comprised a heavily-sloganed long-sleeve white top, bright yellow stockings and black gloves. I wore my own black shoes and a white whole-head mask adorned with soft silver spikes, silver lips, orange eye shadow, a pink mohawk and an array of quills in two lines. Real quills. Points down. On my scalp…
Quill head © Richard Kaby.
So much fun! Before our catwalk we sashayed out into the grounds for some random posing with party-goers. Then we returned to the building and – BAM!! – I banged my quills on a ceiling beam, knocking one literally into my head. Dazed, I dabbed fingers to my forehead, feeling a penny-sized seeping of blood. Still, the show must go on…
Catwalk
It’s weird. I really was quite dazed, as if someone had put a blunt pencil to the front of my hairline and struck it medium-force with a hammer. But the mask stayed on. I was doing this, come what may. Behind catwalk screens I was fifth in line to go on. Esther was fourth, Estelle seventh and last, with the audience interweaving. On we go!
Monsterlune: Delphine Oger © Richard Kaby.
Monsterlune: Frank Cutter © Richard Kaby.
Monsterlune: Cecile Dubuis © Richard Kaby.
Monsterlune: Esther Bunting © Richard Kaby.
Monsterlune: Steve Ritter © Richard Kaby.
Jeremy Lawrence © Richard Kaby.
Monsterlune: Sallyanne Wood © Richard Kaby.
Monsterlune: Estelle Riviere © Richard Kaby.
© Richard Kaby.
At large
Of course, any sub-optimal feelings disappeared the second I stepped out to perform for a whooping cheering crowd. Happiness is a splendid tonic, however fleeting. After the anarchic formalities, we became entropy in earnest. Esther and I stole a hug then gravitated to the gallery garden for freestyle fabulousness.
Outside there was no line-up, no orchestration, no choreography, no format, not even any purpose… we just went mad, individually or collectively, making most magnificent manifestations for anyone gracious enough to point a camera our way. This was truly leashless licence to ‘lune.
Happy 20th anniversary to The Arts Project! Congratulations to artists and organisers on this joyful occasion. Especially thank you to the omni-talented Estelle Riviere both for sharing your creative genius and inviting us to be a part of it. And thank you too to Richard Kaby – artist, creator, colourmeister and kind spirit – for the great photos.
Estelle Riviere © Estelle Riviere.
Richard Kaby © Richard Kaby.
My love for the World Naked Bike Ride (WNBR) has previously seen me participate in multiple rides each year. Alas, in 2023 with a mind full of personal preoccupations I simply lacked the capacity to tackle numerous naked rallies as well. Naturally I would try to join at least one, though. And there could be only one: WNBR London.
World Naked Bike Ride (WNBR)
WNBR is a worldwide campaign that demonstrates the vulnerability of cyclists and protests against car culture. Its linked objectives are to:
- protest against the global dependency on oil
- curb car culture
- obtain real rights for cyclists
- demonstrate the vulnerability of cyclists on city streets
- celebrate body freedom
As usual there was a choice of places to begin. Last year I opted for the longest way round, starting from the far south in Croydon. This year I chose probably the shortest route, setting out from Regent’s Park. With enough time, opportunity, inclination and good health, it would be nice to have a crack at every start point…
And so it was that around 1:45pm on Saturday 10 June in glorious sunshine I arrived at the east edge of the park. I propped my bike against a tree and lay upon the warm grass under its branches. With over an hour to go, only a few riders were present. As time passed, however, our modest cluster – like the Regent himself – ballooned.
Regent’s Park to Outer Circle
Curiously our cluster didn’t just balloon with riders but with onlookers too. Not people who happened to be there anyway, as has seemed normal at the Tower Hill start, nor tediously disrespectful voyeuristic photographers, as in the early years at Hyde Park. These were more like genteel supporters who’d come to applaud us on our way.
2:39pm at Regent’s Park: riders and well-wishers
About 10 minutes before our 2:50pm scheduled departure, ride marshals asked us to assemble on the Outer Circle road by the park’s perimeter. I undressed with indecent haste – stuffing clothes in panniers, slapping on sunscreen, hanging a whistle around my neck, looping a camera on my wrist – then wheeled out to the sunlit highway.
2:43pm at Regent’s Park: riders assemble
2:51pm on Outer Circle: our starting grid
I took my place facing south at the rear of what was already an impressive column of bare people on bikes. Equally impressive was the huge crowd of spectators lining the pavement opposite as far as the eye could see. Think gentrified Mardi Gras. Bang on time, the front of our pack set off. Far behind, my journey began one minute later.
2:52pm on Outer Circle: away we go!
2:55pm on Outer Circle: sans body paint
Portland Place to Trafalgar Square
This was a new WNBR London start point for me and therefore a new route. For sure we would cross Westminster Bridge but how we would get there, I knew not. It’s easy enough, though: follow the bare backsides in front. From southeast Outer Circle, they led me along Park Square East, Park Crescent, Portland Place and Langham Place.
2:56pm on Park Square East: Ionic capitals and unclad cyclists
2:59pm on Portland Place: pausing place
3:01pm on Portland Place: All Souls and, erm… our souls
3:02pm on Langham Place: Beeb, be seen
Langham Place became Regent Street, which sent us south across Oxford Circus all the way down and round to Piccadilly Circus. Like all good circuses, the crowds were eager, engrossed and entertained. Very satisfying for me too. Not since 2009, when I was a nervous first-timer, had WNBR London taken me through Oxford Circus.
3:06pm on Regent Street: across Oxford Circus
3:14pm on Regent Street: Piccadilly Circus ahead
We exited Piccadilly Circus on Coventry Street and thence progressed to Haymarket. Much of the way I was chatting with two guys new to WNBR London, though one is a member of ‘the phantom limbs‘ – a band well known for busking at WNBR Brighton. At the end of Haymarket, Cockspur Street took us to Trafalgar Square.
3:16pm on Haymarket: hesitation
3:17pm on Haymarket: a phantom limb (left)
3:20pm on Cockspur Street: Nelson, behold!
Northumberland Avenue to Victoria Embankment
From Trafalgar Square we would like take our protest down Whitehall, but these days it gets occupied by rabbles of drunken hate-mongering reactionary populist fascists… and I don’t just mean the government. We evaded them via Northumberland Avenue, Great Scotland Yard, Scotland Place, Whitehall Place and Whitehall Court.
3:21pm on Northumberland Avenue: whistle stop
3:22pm on Great Scotland Yard: call the cops
3:23pm on Scotland Place: bridge of sigh-cles
3:24pm on Whitehall Place: glimpse of Hungerford Bridge
A left at the end of Whitehall Court put us on Horse Guards Avenue, heading towards Victoria Embankment. When we reached it, we turned right to follow the Thames with parliament ahead. Much to the irritation of marshals, riders paused for photos in front of the London Eye. I confess I was one of them.
3:27pm on Victoria Embankment: onto the waterfront
3:29pm on Victoria Embankment: dismounted
3:31pm on Victoria Embankment: taking protest to power
Westminster Bridge to Waterloo Bridge
Even without selfie stops, progress along the Embankment was very stop-start. Once we turned the corner to Westminster Bridge, however, we were flying. Photographers lined the footways but only a few stepped out in front of us. From Westminster Bridge Road we swung left into York Road, which took us to Forum Magnum Square.
3:35pm on Westminster Bridge: heels on kerbs
3:36pm on Westminster Bridge Road: south London starts here
3:37pm on York Road: convergence imminent
Forum Magnum Square is where riders from all starting points converge each year. It was already stuffed by the time Regent’s Park riders arrived at 3:38pm. At its far end, WNBR organisers and security staff were locked in dispute over how to exit. Security carried the day; at 3:53pm we back-tracked to York Road, bound for Waterloo Bridge.
3:46pm on Forum Magnum Square: but which way out?
3:54pm on York Road: away we go, part 2
3:57pm on York Road: take me to the bridge
4pm on Waterloo Bridge: northbound
4:01pm on Waterloo Bridge: in photographer mode – © ..Moth..
Lancaster Place to Lincoln’s Inn Fields
Back on the north side of the river, the next leg of our ride was a familiar one that has not changed in years. Waterloo Bridge led us into Lancaster Place, where a right turn started us on Strand, then haltingly steered us round Aldwych to Strand again, before the briefest bit of Fleet Street prefaced a left turn into Chancery Lane.
4:04pm on Lancaster Place: off the bridge
4:06pm on Aldwych: Tina Turner RIP
4:09pm on Strand: before the law
4:11pm on Fleet Street: taking a Chancery
From Chancery Lane we went left into Carey Street, right into Serle Street, and left at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, cycling three sides before coming to a halt at 4:17pm. This is our traditional place to take a break; to mingle, refresh, use the public toilets if necessary, or for some… just disco dance.
4:13pm on Serle Street: Fields ahead
4:16pm on Lincoln’s Inn Fields: soon to rest
4:18pm on Lincoln’s Inn Fields: break time
4:31pm on Lincoln’s Inn Fields: our people
Lincoln’s Inn Fields to The Mall
After 20 minutes, we completed our clockwise circuit of Lincoln’s Inn Fields – plus the south side a second time – before exiting via Sardinia Street; left turn to Kingsway. At the end of Kingsway a right returned us to Aldwych, which led once more onto Strand but now taking us in a traffic-punctuated straight line all the way to Trafalgar Square.
4:38pm on Lincoln’s Inn Fields: away we go again
4:41pm on Kingsway: Bush House ahead
4:42pm on Aldwych: rejoining Strand
4:44pm on Strand: passing Charing Cross
4:45pm on Strand: beheld by Nelson again
Onlookers at Trafalgar Square – people from all walks of life who simply happened to be present when hundreds of naked cyclists streamed past – greeted us with cheers, smiles, laughter, waves and lines of smartphone cameras. As had the rest of London. Any haters were lost in the love. Ahead lay Admiralty Arch, aperture to The Mall.
4:46pm on The Mall: arch angels
4:47pm on The Mall: our red carpet
Constitution Hill to Wellington Arch
Immediately in front of Buckingham Palace at the west end of The Mall is the Victoria Memorial and its fountain pools. Missing a clear opportunity in the brilliant sunshine, I simply cycled past them into Constitution Hill, whereas naked riders with a better eye for celebratory hijinx parked their bikes and dived in. Ahh, regrets, I’ve had a few…
4:51pm on Constitution Hill: Victoria Memorial and Buck House
4:52pm on Constitution Hill: undunked but happy
4:53pm on Constitution Hill: a breeze in the trees
4:54pm on Constitution Hill: the end is nigh
At the top of Constitution Hill, tantalisingly close to our finishing line I slowed to a halt and waited for the red traffic lights to change. Their lack of urgency matched my own. When eventually they turned green, we rolled forwards for a final few yards. I passed beneath Wellington Arch at five to five, a shade over two hours after I’d set off.
4:55pm at Wellington Arch: nearly, nearly…
4:56pm at Wellington Arch: …and we’re done
5:10pm at Wellington Arch: yay!!
It had been a strange ride for me. I’d chatted with friends at the end – thanks, Adrian, for taking that photo above – but otherwise hadn’t really connected with others whilst on the road. Just carried on my tradition. This was my thirteenth WNBR London, and my twenty-first official WNBR in total. Hopefully I’ll regain headspace for many more.
Our route from Regent’s Park to Wellington Arch
Bygone blogs
Previously on the London Naked Bike Ride:
- London Naked Bike Ride 2022 – Back in the Pack
- London Naked Bike Ride 2021 – Safety first
- London Naked Bike Ride 2019 – Back to Bare
- London Naked Bike Ride 2018 – Peaceful Protest
- London Naked Bike Ride 2017 – New Bridges
- London Naked Bike Ride 2016 – A Silver Lining
- London Naked Bike Ride 2015 – Feel Good Painted
- London Naked Bike Ride 2014 – A Fresh Start
- London Naked Bike Ride 2013 – Arch to Arch
- London Naked Bike Ride 2012 – Into the Light
- London Naked Bike Ride 2011 – Re-wrapped
- London Naked Bike Ride 2009 – First Time
There’s something Croydon, figurative art and churches. My previous modelling work there had been at East Croydon United Reform Church and Christ Church Methodist Addiscombe. The latter had been for The Croydon Art Society. This session for the same group was at their new venue: Shirley Methodist Church.
I was to pose for portraits, so in both baggage and imagination I travelled light. It is a curious paradox that if I’m to pose completely nude, I’ll bring a backpack, but if I’m to be fully clothed, I bring nothing. What’s in the backpack, you ask? My dressing gown, my trusty white sheet, and a small tube for those occasional gifts of artworks.
Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the gift of a portrait – I do! It’s just that if I have no other reason to bring a bag, then the tube doesn’t come with me. But I digress. Back to me seated inside a horseshoe of tables occupied by this friendly community of artists: an unbroken 55 minutes took us to tea and biscuits, then 45 minutes took us to the end.
I was offered the chance to take breaks throughout but declined them all. A mistake I made, however, was to assume “portrait” meant only my face was being drawn. I did move my hands and feet occasionally, without realising some artists were attempting to capture my full figure. Sorry folks! And thank you all for your kindness.
steve ritter 