My first London Naked Bike Ride was in 2009, my second came in 2011, and 2012 was my third. Like my blogs for those first two rides, I’ve written this fond recollection in early 2017. When 800 would-be nude cyclists gathered at 3:30pm on 10 June 2012, it was by Wellington Arch – traditionally our finish. We made an impressive spectacle and could make a clean start, but were again easy pickings for voyeur photographers.
Anticipation at Wellington Arch
Clothes off, ready to go
Pure class
The procession down Piccadilly
Around Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain at the Circus
In the pink at Trafalgar Square
At the National Gallery – it’s a Naked Planet
It was a nice sunny day and a joy to be on the road as we made steady, if somewhat staccato progress along Piccadilly, then down to Trafalgar Square. I’d undertaken my first life model booking only a month before and whereas on earlier rides I’d hidden my face, this time I swapped my scarf for a loud whistle; I was nearly out as a public nude! We went on: Whitehall, Westminster Bridge and south to Waterloo Bridge.
Emerging from Parliament Street
A glance back from Westminster Bridge
On Westminster Bridge, sans scarf
Pedal power on Concert Hall Approach
Our staccato opening had become increasingly stop-start, with an emphasis on stop. Later I learned that organisers were deliberately halting us at frequent intervals all the way round so we would stay together as a group rather than become fragmented like last year. It meant we had more time to enjoy the sunshine but also made the overall ride rather frustrating as we could never build momentum.
Law abiding citizens outside the Royal Court of Justice
Another pause, on the way to Ludgate Hill
Natansky… before we knew each other
Slow progress at St. Paul’s
A poser strikes, outside the cathedral
As in 2011, we went as far east as St. Paul’s Cathedral before turning and taking our time to reach Lincoln’s Inn Fields for an even longer stop. From there we meandered through the back roads around Covent Garden and beyond, to Trafalgar Square. Still we were stop-start, stop-start but we usually encounter good-humoured crowds here so it wasn’t so bad. Certainly we brightened the afternoon of one hen party.
Westbound on Holborn
Shop window selfie on High Holborn
Hen party in Great Queen Street – they couldn’t be happier
The thronging of Long Acre
A familiar figure amid the throng
Back at Trafalgar Square
South around Trafalgar Square, through Admiralty Arch, and on to The Mall; I always take particular pleasure in coasting along The Mall with complete naked freedom yet even here we stuttered. It was frustrating but I don’t blame the organisers – they had to make a call, and on this occasion it wasn’t quite right. But they are all volunteers, doing it to protest car culture and celebrate body freedom. I, for one, am grateful.
Underneath the arches
Music-maker on The Mall
7:12pm, journey’s end
And so we completed our circuit at Wellington Arch. It was past 7pm when we made it back, after three and a half hours on the go; a lot longer than 2011. This year’s ride also had one more starting point than last year, as a feeder ride comprising 12 bikes and a scooter set out from West Norwood. There would be multiple start points in all the rides that followed – and I haven’t missed a year: 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016.
I hope that all the while I’m able to pedal, I will continue to be part of the magnificent part-protest, part-celebration that is the phenomenal… London Naked Bike Ride.
This is part two of my look back at the first three London Naked Bike Rides in which I took part. Having made my debut in 2009, I elected to miss the 2010 ride in favour of watching World Cup football on TV – such were my misplaced priorities in those days. On 11 June 2011 around 4pm, however, I was leaving Hyde Park with a thousand other cyclists… bare except for my camouflage hat and the scarf wrapped around my face.
Ready to leave Hyde Park – many still in underwear to thwart photographers
Underway, with me re-wrapped in my scarf – still not ready to go public
Tigers in the sunshine on Piccadilly
With Earl Haig on Whitehall – like the 2009 photo, but sunnier
Entering Parliament Street
Having broken free of the ubiquitous voyeurs with cameras, we made steady progress along Piccadilly – one of my favourite parts of the ride – then via Trafalgar Square and Parliament Street to Westminster Bridge where tourists merrily photographed us. We then looped south of the river to Waterloo Bridge. This being a less crowded crossing, many of us got off our bikes there to have our own souvenir photos taken.
South of the river, on Westminster Bridge Road
Exotic tandem riders on Concert Hall Approach
Have your photo taken on Waterloo Bridge..?
Don’t mind if I do!
And, of course, the ever-present lady with the red bob
Back on the north side of the river, we rounded Aldwych to continue along The Strand and further down Fleet Street to St Paul’s. It was exciting as we had not gone this far in 2009. A little beyond the cathedral’s south side we looped up and back to start our return via Cheapside. We’d enjoyed pleasant broken sunshine thus far, but now cloud cover began to thicken slightly, although conditions remained cool and comfortable.
North of the river, in Fleet Street, taking photos of…
…St Paul’s Cathedral!
Starting one of my bike ride traditions – the shop window selfie
By Christchurch Greyfriars Church Garden on Cheapside
Our return journey towards Hyde Park continued along Holborn, High Holborn, around Lincoln’s Inn Fields – where we paused for a loo break – then through Covent Garden, to Trafalgar Square, beneath Admiralty Arch and down The Mall. I love the jaunt along The Mall; it joins Piccadilly and the two bridges as being my favourite parts of the ride. Past Buckingham Palace and up Constitution Hill, we finished under Wellington Arch.
Outside Rosewood London, on High Holborn
On the west side of Lincoln’s Inn Fields
Romance on Wellington Street
Swinging around Trafalgar Square towards Admiralty Arch
4-Wheeled Freaks on The Mall
The end is nigh – Wellington Arch
It had been superb fun; even better than the ride two-years before. As always on these chaotic occasions, it was impossible to get a sense of overall progress whilst we were out on the road, but it emerged afterwards that the ride had become fragmented. Most riders reached Wellington Arch by 6pm, with rain arriving 30 minutes later, but by then my hired bike was back with London Bicycle Tour Company. Job done. Happy.
It is early 2017 and I am a veteran of seven London Naked Bike Rides. I’ve stripped naked many times as a life model, art performer, street protester, photography model and charity fundraiser but on 13 June 2009, before any of those things, came my first London Naked Bike Ride. On this warm breezy Saturday I joined 1,200 other cyclists on a long leisurely loop around central London, from Hyde Park to Wellington Arch.
Maps data © 2009 Google – from Hyde Park to Wellington Arch
I remember, it was around 90 minutes before the 3:30pm start that I wheeled my bike past Wellington Arch, into Hyde Park. I’d expected to find the formative gatherings of soon-to-be-naked cyclists but, no, not a sign, so I sat down on the grass and waited. Duly a few people arrived with bikes; at 2:30pm, some began undressing; by 3pm I’d done likewise; come half-past three we were lined up, naked, ready to hit the streets.
Arriving at Hyde Park – these people don’t look like naked cyclists
Moving to the start – that red bob would become a familiar sight at future rides
Lining up in Hyde Park, ready to go
I had no idea whether I was towards the front or back of the group, who was doing the organising, or what would be the signal to start. While we waited, voyeurs surrounded us and feasted greedily with their cameras. This was a time before I’d stopped caring about being photographed naked, so I wore a camouflage hat with a scarf tied around my face. How times change! With a tingling thrill we started along Piccadilly.
And we’re off – leaving Hyde Park on my first naked bike ride
Briefly northbound on Park Lane before turning right onto Achilles Way
Leaving Piccadilly Circus via Coventry Street and Haymarket
Passing Earl Haig’s memorial on Whitehall
Naked bike riders on Whitehall
In sensuous spring sunshine, our surreal spectacle crossed Westminster Bridge for a short sojourn south of the river. This was where my day had started, as I hired my two wheel transport, plus a pannier for clothes, from the London Bicycle Tour Company at Gabriel’s Wharf on the south bank. The ride never made it that far east, however, as we returned to the north side via the very next crossing – Waterloo Bridge.
South of the river on York Road, waving to crowds overhead
Unicyclists on the slip road up to Waterloo Bridge
Back north we go
I was having a wonderful time. All around me were hundreds of people either wholly or partially naked; some with bits of costume, others in body paint, some playing music, others blowing whistles. It felt like utter freedom – except I’d chosen to cower under a disguise. How I wish I could have my time again and be fearless from the start. North of the river we continued on The Strand, Chancery Lane and Holborn to Oxford Circus.
Starting the arc around Aldwych
Outside The Law Society on Chancery Lane
In Maddox Street, passing through Mayfair
Yes, that really is me on Grosvenor Street
We completed our circuit via Grosvenor Street, Upper Grosvenor Street then back to Hyde Park, where we veered south along Park Lane and finished triumphantly below Wellington Arch. More cameras awaited our return; organisers and police alike were keen for us to get dressed quickly, and the seething scrum of damp-palmed voyeurs gave many of us greater inclination to do so. Others, of course, revelled in it.
“Oil spoils” on Upper Grosvenor Street – protesting against oil dependency
Down Park Lane…
…nearly there
Wellington Arch – our final destination
Such glorious, hedonistic madness. I knew it couldn’t end here, that this would not be the last time I took part, but how little I sensed when departing Hyde Park a few hours earlier, that I was embarking on a profound personal journey destined to transform my life in unimaginable ways. A group photo shoot the next day at Prested Hall became the very first nude art project in which I participated. The rest – this blog – is history.
“As a collective of three artists, JocJonJosch are interested in issues of identity relating to the individual and the group both on a universal as well as a more self-reflective level.”
– JocJonJosch portfolio introduction.
“In Dig Shovel Dig, each of the three artists dig their own hole in the earth, only to fill their neighbour’s hole. The process of digging and shovelling repeats till JocJonJosch eventually give up. What remains are neither three obvious holes in the ground nor three equally filled pits.”
– JocJonJosch ‘Dig Shovel Dig’ (2013) video introduction.
In spring 2016 the collective called for volunteers to collaborate with them in digging earth at a site in Martigny, Switzerland and build a series of totem poles that would stand for a period of time, before eventually being razed to the ground. Come winter, this evolution through practice and intervention was ready to be presented as a new performance in the heart of London.
“Foot-Kroku-Zvuk-Klingen-Fall – the corruption of ‘footfall’ through translation from English, to Czech, to German places an emphasis on the motion and the sound of the action implied by the word Footfall. The collective JocJonJosch are devising a new performance entitled Footfall premiering at Laure Genillard gallery…”
– Laure Genillard gallery event introduction.
Preparation
The call for performance collaborators came on 16 October. After the joy of working with JocJonJosch for Existere (2011), Ouroboros (2013), and Ouroboros (2014), I immediately expressed an interest. Frustratingly, I would not be able to take part in the opening night private view on Friday 25 November, but I took consolation from at least being able to join its dry-run movement rehearsal (earthless) six days earlier.
Photo of a raised totem – at the Laure Genillard gallery.
Six of us would be part of the second performance: Joc (of the collective), Chris, Cy, Stan, me, and Esther; late sickness meant Esther was to be a lone female. When I arrived, Joc and Jon were already well advanced in preparing a large round-ish pile of mud at the centre of the upstairs gallery space. For this performance, we were to be trampling it for 90 minutes whilst naked and covered head-to-toe in the stuff.
It was an endurance piece without a break. We were to start at 6:30pm and continue until 8pm, with Jon (of the collective) giving a single clap at half-hourly intervals so we would have an idea of progress. The time came for us to put on the mud. Esther and I went first, lathering each other all over with dirty great handfuls. When the rest joined us, we helped them cover those hard-to-reach places.
Pre-performance, behind the scenes – me and Esther.
Performance
With the doors about to open, gallery assistants took away our possessions and we started to tread through the mud – always looking downwards, never at each other or those who entered the room. I had felt uncomfortably cold when the mud first went on my body, but I quickly warmed up once we were underway. The thick heavy mud was firm yet satisfyingly squashy… albeit peppered with annoying little stones.
It wasn’t physically fatiguing work, only mentally tiring as time dragged. The first clap seemed to take ages coming. Although theoretically we were all performing the same action, in practice our movements varied according to our physicality: some marched while others glided; some were upright while others slouched; some created patterns while others were directionless. Thus, we persevered curiously to a close.
Aftermath
At the finish, with all guests cleared from the gallery room we stepped from the mud into paper suits and flip-flops. Speedily we dashed via the street to the flat next door, where we would shower and dress. The mud on our skin was part caked, part sticky, part crumbly and there was no way to shift it all without making a fearful mess. I pity whoever tidied up after but, as is said: no good art is produced without suffering.
Post-performance, behind the scenes – ready for a shower.
Once sufficiently clean for admittance to decent society, we joined the artists, fellow performers and select guests for wine and tortillas in the lower gallery space. As we relaxed, so we could enjoy what previously we’d endured. Meanwhile, the expanded disc of mud above us set slowly in serene solitude. Every ridge and impression now seemed to be imbued with a serendipitous artistic quality. We’d done good work.
Post-performance, behind the scenes – mud.
Post-performance, behind the scenes – marks.
I look forward to returning for a final performance of Footfall on Friday 3 February 2017.
My last booking of 2016 was for a creative agency’s pre-Christmas celebrations. Their party organiser booked Art Macabre for an afternoon of life drawing, and I in turn was booked on 28 November. A second model – Rosy – was added on 15 December, four days before the gig itself. Our venue was Wilton’s Music Hall in London’s east end.
We were to pose as characters from old time music hall. Art Macabre’s Nikki provided our historical context and nervously played Cockney sing-along tracks that walked the tightrope of political incorrectness. I posed in top hat and face paint as Flash Harry for 2 and 3-minutes, then as Champagne Charlie as we stood for 10 and 15-minutes.
Next, a creative exercise was created for our creative agency. Nikki asked her models to sit adjacent on a couch, then challenged the nine artists to dream up designs for a ventriloquism act poster. Needless to say, I was the dummy. Imaginations ran wild for 15-minutes, both in their elaboration of our tableau and the invention of slogans.
Rosy posed for 5-minutes whilst I underwent the traditional music hall gender swap of putting on a corset and floppy floral hat. Once transformed, it was my turn to hold the fort – for 10-minutes – as further gender changing took place backstage. For our final 15-minutes, I lay largely ignored on the couch, whilst Rosy was drawn on a stool.
All this had taken place in a modest-sized upstairs room with a bar rather than in the main music hall space. It would have been nice to experience the big auditorium, yet even here the venue’s classic character was undeniable. There is comfort in knowing places like this have found a way to survive in the modern era. Life goes on.
“Hi Steve, hope you guys are well. Just wanted to let you know the piece is officially completed. In the next few days we will finally post the result of 4 years of work. The piece has been named SANCTUARY.” – Angelo Musco, 30 July 2016.
This was news that a quietly vigilant corner of me had indeed waited years to receive. Angelo Musco had at last completed his magnum opus; a huge artistic undertaking inspired by the Tower of Babel. Yet Sanctuary had become very much more than a tower – it was a sprawling metropolis constructed from countless thousands of nude human forms… several of which were my own.
Sanctuary was officially announced to the world on 8 August through an interview for The Creators Project; an article in the Huffington Post; and a production video on YouTube. Soon after came news that the piece would feature within an exhibition at Maison Particulière, in Brussels. Esther and I had the first weekend of December free, so we boarded Eurostar in London and departed for the capital of Belgium.
After a Saturday spent exploring the city, we left our apartment late Sunday morning and headed for Maison Particulière. Doors had opened shortly before we arrived, and for a while we had the place all to ourselves. Such an elegant and serene space. We were given a brief introduction by one of the staff, then began our wanderings around the ground floor exhibits…
‘Senza Titolo‘ by Claudio Parmiggiani, and ‘Hollow Figure‘ by Daniel Arsham
‘Cocoon‘ by Angelo Musco
‘Carmela‘ by Jaume Plensa
‘Murmek‘ by Angelo Musco
All around was beauty and exquisiteness. Up the first flight of stairs I discovered one of Angelo’s most dynamic pieces – the hellish whirlpools of ‘Tehom‘, in which bodies try desperately to escape their underwater torment, or possibly drag the viewer down among them. Also here was ‘Remember that we sometimes…‘ by Rachel Kneebone. I’d life modelled with this very piece at the Freud Museum in London last February.
‘Remember that we sometimes…‘ by Rachel Kneebone
With ‘Tehom‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Tehom‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Tehom‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
I’ve become acquainted with much of Angelo’s extraordinary work over the years from his website. Now to admire so many pieces with my own eyes on such a grand scale felt like a blissful privilege. Such detail, to notice and absorb – no more so than within ‘Phloem‘ from his ‘Cortex‘ series. We lingered before it at length, before traversing the next room containing ‘Pièce détachée‘ by Michel François, to find… sanctuary!
‘Phloem‘ by Angelo Musco
‘Phloem‘ by Angelo Musco
‘Phloem‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Phloem‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Pièce détachée‘ (detail) by Michel François
SANCTUARY!
‘Sanctuary‘ by Angelo Musco
This wasn’t even the full-size version, yet at 16 feet wide by 4 feet high it was truly an astonishing piece, assembled from figures photographed in New York, Buenos Aires, London, Berlin and Naples. Together with friends, I’d taken part in the London (2013) and Berlin (2014) shoots, and now rejoiced in recognising faces. There’s me, top left corner, Cy just below, Peter to the right, Zabine just below, Clifford by her knee…
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
These were merely among the most noticeable figures. The more I studied the piece, the more would catch my eye. In three separate places my upper torso loomed large, curved inwards or backwards in a tangle of other body fragments. Elsewhere I would find myself peering out from a standing group – shots taken in Berlin. No matter how tiny the figures, their clarity was pin-sharp. My camera has not done them justice.
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ (detail) by Angelo Musco
‘Sanctuary‘ by Angelo Musco
Credit to Esther’s patience that she indulged me to spend so long with the piece. We were lucky still to have the place to ourselves at this stage, but soon others began to arrive. We passed into more rooms; one with ‘Aves‘ and ‘Ala’ by Angelo; one with the sculpture ‘Lie’ by Antony Gormley, and a video of monarch butterflies formed of naked bodies by Angelo; and finally to a light installation by the incredible James Turrell.
‘Aves‘ by Angelo Musco
‘Ala‘ by Angelo Musco
‘Lie‘ by Antony Gormley
Image from video installation by Angelo Musco
Image from video installation by Angelo Musco
Image from light installation by James Turrell
Any single one of Angelo’s works can be mesmerising in composition, detail, delicacy and soulfulness. To see so many here, complemented perfectly by sculptural artworks in minimalist chic surroundings, felt magical and elating. Only nature could adequately follow that, so we drifted through crisp December air down to Bois de la Cambre and partook of sunset pancakes at Chalet Robinson. It had been a day of feasting.
The exhibition ‘From here to eternity‘ continues until 30 April 2017 and is open from Tuesday to Sunday each week, 11am to 6pm. If you have the means and opportunity, I highly recommend a visit. Hopefully Angelo’s next big show in Europe will include a version of Sanctuary at least double the size of the one we admired in Brussels. Until then, let’s enjoy that production video one more time. Thank you, Angelo.
Aside from a Christmas party booking on Monday and anything last-minute that might come up unexpectedly, this would be my last life modelling work of 2016. What better way to end the modelling year than with my beloved Esther at Eastbourne House on cheese-and-wine night, for one of the groups run by Adrian Dutton? I arrived early to find Esther, Adrian, and his partner Anya already there; such lovely people with whom to create art. We opened with a 15-minute pose, Esther sneaking up on me…
The first pose always allows time for latecomers to find a seat and settle down. By the time we followed it with short poses, there were between 30 and 40 artists drawing us. We continued with 1-minute, 2-minute, and 3-minute poses. Plenty of variation, taking turns to suggest an idea. For the next 5-minutes, I thought to repeat the pose we tried in Croydon the weekend before, with me laying down and Esther standing with a foot upon my chest. Next it was Esther laying down and me leaning on her for 10-minutes.
Earlier that day, Esther had been modelling at a hall where old theatre costumes were being discarded. She was invited to take some choice clothes, amongst which were a pair of hats. It’s usually tricky for me to find a hat that fits well but astonishingly these two could have been made to measure for us. We closed the first half wearing them in a 20-minute standing pose. During the interval that followed we partook of cheese and wine, and were delighted to find our friend Lily had made it across London to draw us.
The second half started with us sitting face to face very close together for 10-minutes. We were loving the space and, notwithstanding the scrutinising eyes of several dozen artists, felt a private tenderness in the moment. We got into more strenuous postures for the next 3-minutes, 2-minutes, 1-minute, before taking it easier for our final 15 and 25-minutes; albeit with an ache or two. It was a joy to see so many great drawings at the end – some inspired work.
Happy new year, Adrian, Anya and Bethnal Green artists! Hope we meet again soon.
steve ritter 