35 years of naked subversion
The Neo Naturists are a live performance art collective. Founded in 1981 by Christine Binnie, Jennifer Binnie and Wilma Johnson, they emerged in the aftermath of punk as part of a subculture with links to London’s New Romantic scene. Together the group performed at nightclubs, galleries and festivals – often unannounced and wearing little more than body paint. Sometimes their performance could be the act of painting each other, at other times the paint would already be on.
They combined anarchic innocence with deliberate primitivism in their manifestations, maintaining rough-edged, consciously unfashionable, wilfully amateur ideals. Actions and appearances were neither rehearsed nor to be repeated. Often a schedule would be discussed just hours beforehand, and use props that were sourced or produced at the last minute. There was never any compromise in the name of entertainment or for commercial success. The Neo Naturists were not ones for selling out.**
Retrospective
From 8 July to 28 August 2016, Studio Voltaire presented a detailed retrospective of the Neo Naturists’ oeuvre; a survey unprecedented for a public institution. To mark the occasion, on 24 August the ICA hosted ‘A Night with the Neo Naturists‘. This event would incorporate film, music, and a live performance by the Neo Naturists – their first with the original line-up of founding members since 1986 – plus ‘Neo Naturist recruits’. Esther and I duly signed-on with the Neo Naturist Recruitment Department…
Preparation
Upon arriving at the ICA we found Christine, already naked and body painted, strolling through the foyer. She and Esther needed no introductions as they’d met in 2012 at a Neo Naturists workshop, so without further ado we were taken to a backstage room where our fellow participants were also fully painted. We’d returned by train that same afternoon from a Spirited Bodies event in Edinburgh and were last to join in. Swiftly we stripped and began painting each other as colourful Neo Naturist farmers.
© Cy Wol
Not only were we latecomers to the body painting, we also missed the Neo Naturists’ talk-through of their ideas for the performance earlier that afternoon, and at a meet-up the day before, but we garnered as much as we could and otherwise relied upon their preference for anarchy to carry us through. Doors opened at 7pm yet our show would not start until around 8:30pm. With time to kill ahead of the opening act, we went out in front of the stage and danced naked amongst the audience.
© Organ Thing – author Sean Worrall
© Organ Thing – author Sean Worrall
Performance
After an esoteric support performance from Jill Westwood and Antal Nemeth, followed by a no less surreal rendition of ‘The Model‘ by Christine with Paul Murphy playing a washboard, it was our turn. The performance was to be an allegory about farmers and bankers. Farmers sell corn to bankers who don’t know what to do with it; bankers pay with gold, for which farmers have no use; but together we all celebrate the harvest and share beer and fruits with everyone present, including the audience.
Glorious chaos reined throughout. Here’s a link to the full video – I was ‘Barley Baby’.
Of course, photos can’t begin to it justice but here are a few anyway…
© unknown Instagram account
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Ba Wol
© Ba Wol
© original photographer
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
© Organ Thing – author Sean Worrall
© Studio Voltaire – A Night with the Neo Naturists
Disco
After a 20-minute escalation of increasingly haphazard naked exuberance that peaked with corn sheaves being scattered liberally all over the audience, our performance was done… but our evening was far from over. Next up on stage were The Raincoats, who would be rocking the ICA while three judges awarded scores to participants in a go-go dancing competition. Neo Naturists beseeched their recruits to join in, so Esther went first, I followed, and once more we descended collectively to Bedlam.
© unknown Instagram account
© Organ Thing – author Sean Worrall
© Neo Naturist recruit
© Neo Naturist recruit
The go-go judges did not smile upon us, but we were awarded arty matchboxes and a consolation tea towel for our efforts. As the time neared half-past ten with crowds and chaos both dwindling we melted backstage for one last raid on the complimentary gin before washing under a cold weak shower. It had been the hottest day of the year and we’d travelled the length of the country to submerge in anarchic nude performance art. We were shattered – but what a privilege to share: a night with the Neo Naturists.
Reviews
** Introduction text adapted from Studio Voltaire: Neo Naturist publication (PDF 1.05MB).
“No hands!” was the plea as we readied to pose after the break. Therein lies the prime challenge for artists drawing duo life models: two models, two faces, four hands, eight limbs… and if the duo is me and Esther, there is going to be quite a bit of intertwining. So, as a kindness to the suffering artists at cave in Pimlico, when we resumed with a seated pose, we attempted to conceal our hands. Having two models was intended to be a Christmas treat, yet at times it may have felt more like a torment…
It was a merry little session as befitted our last life modelling, and the group’s last life drawing, of 2017. Group organiser, Karen had put lashing of gorgeous mulled wine on simmer, with a couple of full Irish cream liqueur bottles on the side and the ubiquitous plate of mince pies. Only occasional despairing sighs from artists struggling with their works was out of keeping with ambient festiveness, but for models it is a positive sign of their desire to do us justice.
Our poses were 5-minutes, 5, 5, 10, and 10-minutes before the interval, and then two poses of 25-minutes to the end. This evening’s CDs were Moloko (was it “Rameses” or “radishes”?) and Enigma. The heaters were on but generally the evening was mild compared to recent weeks so, despite a couple of achy poses, we were comfortable. Such has been our feeling at cave from the outset – it is a warm community that has always made us very welcome.
Thank you, Karen, Anjie, et al – see you in 2018!
Secrets! Upon arriving for this after-hours corporate life modelling session at a London workplace, my first task was to sign a mutual non-disclosure agreement, pledging not to say anything about the company or its business. The circumstances were thus unusual, but the business of life drawing was the same: I would be nude, and I was to pose; five 1-minute poses, five of 2-minutes, and seven of 5-minutes up to a break.
The setting was wholly unlike typical art rooms, from which I return with feet darkened by aeons of charcoal dust. Here, a large square of fine mesh-like material, covered by two even larger plastic membranes, was taped to an immaculate floor of carpet tiles. I posed at the centre, surrounded by a horseshoe of chairs from which artists sketched me in silence. There were two poses after the interval: 25-minutes and 20-minutes.
I stood for 25-minutes with one arm upon the top of my head – by the end of this time, the arm became so numb that I was balancing it rather than raising it, but the evening as a whole was positive. Even better as it had been organised through City Academy, with whom I’d had a negative experience earlier this year. This was their redemption, such that I will happily recommend them to other models – insofar as secrecy allows!
I’ve modelled regularly for Adrian Dutton’s groups at Eastbourne House in Bethnal Green over many years, yet circumstances contrived that a full 364 days had passed since my last visit – I’d had to decline bookings for January, April and September due to prior commitments. Now at long last I was back but it had been so long that I found myself feeling an unexpected twinge of nerves.
Butterflies speedily departed as I entered the familiar surroundings of this ever-popular venue. The high ceiling, the square of seats that would accommodate about 30 artists this evening, the stage with more seats plus an area for me to undress, and of course the central space with mats, cushions and a spotlight, all as I remembered it. Equally familiar was our opening routine: 10-minutes standing, followed by quick poses.
After three 2-minute poses, we completed the first half with two of 5-minutes and two of 15-minutes. Thursdays are cheese and wine nights so, with measured haste, I put on my dressing gown and glided to where a table in the foyer was groaning under the weight of tasty fare. After I’d charged my plate and cup, I returned to the main hall for a meander around unattended artworks before huddling down to eat beside a heater.
I rather fancied starting the second half squatting upon the top of an upended wooden block for 10-minutes… so it was agreed that I could resume in this way and then see off the session with poses of 20-minutes and 30-minutes. Duly I stood and sat askew upon a stool. At the end, drawings were set out across the floor, and there was much to be admired. I hope I’m able to come back sooner next year.
In my childhood memories the last day of any school term was ‘toy day‘. It was a day when kids were allowed to play with fun things rather having the usual lessons. When Esther and I returned to Rhodes Avenue Primary School this week for their last life drawing evening this term, and found the group had relocated from a classroom to the main hall containing gym equipment, we felt a similar excitement.
We found two platforms of different heights, each of which had room for one or both of us, and there was a soft multicoloured dome we could clamber on. We would be able to enjoy the invention of new poses, but we were also here to work. The group’s tutor, Rosie, set the pose times and give a little direction – for example, whether we should be close or apart, or asking if poses already underway could be held for longer.
We started with energetic poses of 2-minutes, 3-minutes and 5-minutes, then paused to look at the works created before resuming with gentle poses: an embrace upon the dome for 5-minutes, followed by separated bodies holding hands for 15-minutes. After this, because it’s nearly Christmas, we had a break with the 11 artists to share flasks of cider, bottles of wine and trays of mince pies. All very civilised, of course.
When everybody was sufficiently refreshed, Esther and I shifted from the centre of the hall, on to a stage bedecked with the trappings of a nativity play. Carefully we covered a tiny throne, then posed on it for what started as 15 but ended up 25-minutes, before a 20-minute finale. As this group continues to grow in numbers and confidence I hope they can stick with this new venue for their art – certainly it seemed we all enjoyed it.
Suppose life drawing was not an intense process of scrutiny, measurement, empathy and application. It might just be a relaxing pastime to share with friends whilst having a natter. Many groups – both formal and informal – conduct their practice without any sound, or are perhaps silent save for musical accompaniment. A minority, meanwhile, have developed into easy-going arty social clubs. Whilst duo-posing at Fairkytes Art Centre for LeNu Life Drawing on Tuesday, Esther and I had a taste of the latter, as a third of the group were merrily bantering throughout.
Is constant chatter in the room disrespectful? I don’t feel there’s a definitive answer as it’s for each person to assess the likely impact of their conduct on those around them. Personally I’m quite content with conversation as it can be a welcome distraction from any physical discomfort. More likely, it could disturb the concentration of other artists, yet equally they might appreciate a friendly environment, even if not actively joining in. Topics for discussion during this session ranged from hiring tango dancers at funerals, to #MeToo family revelations…
In the midst of it all we life modelled while our friend, Natansky and her sister, Estelle, called the times. We stood for 5-minutes and 10-minutes, then sat next to each other on chairs for 15-minutes. Closing the first half, Esther stood and I cuddled her hips for 13-minutes, up to the interval. After tea, coffees and snacks we sat in an embrace on the floor for 20-minutes, and finally Esther stood leaning both upon and across me for the last (sometimes achy) 25-minutes. We enjoyed our time here, and hope everyone else felt the same way. I do like a group with character!
It was one of those early mornings that make one’s extremities literally ache from the cold. The tightening in my face, hands and feet as I walked through Lewisham for half an hour to Lochaber Hall, might have been enough to give me second thoughts. The sky was clear, the frost crisp and the temperature freezing. I feared for the conditions in my cavernous destination, so it came as a huge relief to feel warmth when I arrived in good time for a 9:30am start.
Radiators were all switched on and three fan heaters were blowing thermal goodness across the pile of pillows and sheets upon which I would be working. Artists adjusted their easels and when ready to start, we got going with six 5-minute poses: variously standing, kneeling, and squatting. For the 20-minutes that followed, I sat comfortably mid-crossfire of the three hot airstreams. One long pose would occupy the remaining two hours, and it was agreed that a similar seated pose would be desirable.
I sat motionless for 45-minutes. Towards the end of this first period, organiser David disappeared to make tea and coffee, and to bring forth dark chocolate digestives for the interval. When our eight artists were sufficiently reinvigorated, we continued with no break until the session concluded. My back became a little achy, but I remained toasty throughout – that had been my main priority. After some pleasant chat at the end, I exited once more into brilliant sunshine… very well wrapped-up.
steve ritter 