Spirited Bodies has been running multi-model life drawing events in many formats since 2010. In November last year, this included ‘Spirited Sound‘ – a collaboration between Esther Bunting of Spirited Bodies and Sarah Kent: sound bath artist, folk fiddler, homeopath, reiki practitioner and bodyworker. The event was at Bargehouse on the south bank of the Thames, where Kathleen Dutton – artist, creative director, practioner of zen yoga, theta healing and reiki – was a co-organiser.
Esther, Sarah and Kathleen combined forces on 23 July at Lewisham Arthouse to realise a new concept: two small workshops with sound bath, slow nude movement, stillness and drawing. Participants were invited to flow with healing sounds, and find ways to embody them – while drawing or being drawn. Kathleen would lead drawing exercises, whilst Esther directed movements and modelling. The first session would be women-only, from 1pm to 3pm, then a mixed session would follow from 4pm.
Shortly after midday I helped Esther carry equipment down to the venue. Sarah had arrived too, so once the preparations were well under way I withdrew from the scene. The day was sweltering hot and, upon returning to join the mixed session, I was not surprised to find the room well immersed in the ambience of group body work; not in fragrance but a subtle dishevelment of the original set-up, plus a glow of satisfaction from those who remained from the first two hours. It had evidently been a success.
When the room filled for the mixed session, I found myself in the company of many friends: Irene drawing, Judit drawing and modelling, Rodger modelling; several other artists were Spirited Bodies regulars. Models would be Judit, Rodger, Esther, me, a debutant male model and Sarah’s daughter, Ellie, who also drew and participated in the earlier session. With everyone assembled, Kathleen brought artists and models together in a circle for a welcoming meditation.
Our next half-hour was filled by the explanation and practice of two movement poses. The first of these was the ‘slow movement and stillness chain’ – all six models stood still in a circle while one made very slow gestures until they touched a model to their left, at which point they stopped and the other would take over. Thus, movement was passed around the circle three times during 10 minutes. For the following 15 minutes we started small and grew very slowly from seeds into full bloom.
Next we took it in turns to stand close to a large sheet of paper taped to a wall while Kathleen drew round our outlines. Not that we’re competitive, but the women’s group had already created a splendid work, so the chaps felt obliged to be on top form and make interesting shapes too. During the break, everybody contributed to colouring in spaces between the original marks. Afterwards we created a 20-minute mass sound symphony with Sarah’s instruments, then all connected for a final 30-minute pose.
It had been uncharted water for us all. I was not sure if it might be a bit too unfamiliar and model-centred for some of the artists but everybody left with smiles. They arrived expecting a genuine immersive experience, and that’s what they were given. The only regrettable part was a breakage to Sarah’s beautiful crystal sound pyramid… but she took it stoically and was still able to enjoy joining Ellie, Judit, Rodger, Esther and me for a celebratory post-event picnic at Hilly Fields.
It had been a beautiful afternoon. Some of the group’s poses had been highly original; a joy to participate in. My personal favourite was probably the first one – where all the models arranged in a circle, five static and one moving, passing on the movement and freezing in pose. The whole session was filled with new ideas and potential. It remains to be seen whether the format will be repeated, but the appetite certainly seems to be there. Congratulations to Esther, Sarah and Kathleen on making it work.
Video montage of artworks and our sound symphony with models and artists playing:
“Do your toes always cross like that or have you done it for the pose?” – this was the question put to me by Eddie, the group organiser, as a I settled down for my eleventh piece of the evening. When getting into a pose, my focus is on composition, balance, pressure points and support, so sometimes I miss the details of my own body. Eddie hadn’t, though. As I sat naked for 15 minutes, he concentrated on drawing one foot.
I was back in Westminster for a return to the Civil Service Club. As is typical among life drawing groups in the summer months, the number of artists was about half what it had been in late spring – just Eddie and three others, all friendly regulars. The evening was warm and the windows cast open; our serenity was disturbed only by rowdy UKIP supporters outside who were yelling incoherently like drunken hooligans throughout.
The three-hour session was well structured: five 2-minute poses, two 10-minute poses and four 15-minute poses, up to a half-hour break. Two of my toes crossed for the last of these – I believe they just do that of their own accord. After the interval, we finished with three 20-minutes poses, albeit the third was trimmed to quarter of an hour. It was a good session, pure life modelling, enjoyable to create a varied set of poses.
Hen and stag party events are becoming an increasingly popular sub-genre of the life drawing world. They are sometimes looked down upon by serious artists, but it must be understood that their purpose is purely entertainment and nothing at all to do with creative practice. One hopes, of course, that first-timers might get the sketching bug, but essentially they’re there for a laugh and a bit of socially-acceptable nakedness.
Despite being asked by organisers on several occasions, I have resisted accepting a hen party booking simply because I couldn’t imagine me being the type of model that hens would favour. One always assumes they would expect some young chap with a permanent tan, six-pack stomach, huge member and jack-the-lad swagger. I am told, however, that whilst such chaps exist, they are often unimaginative life models.
I was persuaded to give it a try when my partner Esther – who works frequently as a model for stag parties and a tutor for hen parties – found a booking for us together. It was at Maidstone Village Hotel in Kent, which meant a long, tedious journey even from south London, but our rail fares were paid. The hens were sitting outside as we arrived, but we slipped in unnoticed and began preparing a conference room for art.
At 4pm, in came the bride-to-be and her 12 hens dressed in white. I sensed a mix of apprehension, giggles and optimistic bravado, but everybody was nice and up for fun. The hen who’d booked us – Petra – also happened to be a wedding photographer, so her organising was perfect. I gave her freedom to photograph the session. When they were settled, Esther started some club music and I slipped from my dressing gown.
We’d been booked for an hour so all poses would be brief; 5 to 8-minutes maximum. There would also be novelty. After a couple of basic poses, Esther got them to draw first with their weaker hand and then whilst looking at me but not at their paper. She had them split a page into six and fill it with six 1-minute poses, then each was told one body part to draw – when these were brought together I had three penises.
After the initial outbreak of sniggering and deliberately not-really-trying, it seemed all the hens were warming to the challenges and enjoying their drawing as much as the naughtiness. For the last two set-ups I posed first with the bride – who very early on had guessed that Esther and I were “married” – and then with the hen who I decided had drawn us best. Esther sprung that one on me unexpectedly!
It was a thoroughly enjoyable session. Petra later sent me photos and wrote, “Thank you so much, everyone had an absolutely brilliant time.” I genuinely appreciated that encouragement, yet nonetheless I’ve decided hen party modelling isn’t really for me, and it’s possible my first time will also be my last. I’ll never say ‘never again’ though, as adventures in modelling and performance continue taking me in bizarre directions.
Bring on whatever comes next!
The Hesketh Hubbard Art Society Annual Exhibition 2016 at Mall Galleries proved such a success that its scheduled run of six days was extended by a week. Together with several other models and all the society’s members, Esther and I were invited to the private view evening on 21 July. How pleasing it was to find on the wall a charcoal drawing, by Lesley Dabson, for which we’d posed only six days earlier – on the right, top row below.
Once again we’d been booked to provide four 30-minute duo poses. We arrived early, with time enough to practice a few nude combinations on our central bench. For the artists surrounding us this may have whet the appetite or bred frustration, depending on where they had set-up their easels in relation to the angles we presented. No-one shifted, however, so we began with a standing embrace that eventually found its way to the exhibition.
For our second half-hour, Esther lay down with a twist and I sat alongside her, facing in the opposite direction. This lasted until the 15-minute interval for tea, biscuits and some socialising. Our third pose was intended to be relatively simple with the two of us seated facing one another with a look of love. The temptation is always to add an extra degree of stretch for the artists, however, and the price this time was a quickly numbed leg for my partner.
We’d planned to close with us both laying down side-by-side and intertwined, but as Esther’s numbness forced her to stand, instead I sat beside her with my palms on a thigh and shin. The after-effects of her earlier discomfort meant she saw out the final few minutes reclining anyway, but not before our artists had created some wonderful work. Slowly and steadily after the session we recovered sensation in our limbs and could resume a little light mingling.
Fast-forward six days to the private view – we arrived just in time to catch the end of a speech by Mark Cass, founder of Cass Art. The night’s awards were then decided by our new friend, Jake Spicer; the life drawing honour went to an artist pal of ours, Alan, and the portrait prize was for a commendable likeness of our modelling chum, Clifford. Drawings of Esther were dotted around all the walls, and we even found a couple more of our duo poses among scores of outstanding works.
Even the showcase video looping by the entrance featured Esther as its model. Enjoy: “Simon Whittle, President of the Society talks about the continued importance of the weekly Life Drawing classes and the excitement and struggle involved in drawing from life. Set up in 1930 amid fears for the future of observational drawing, the Society has continued meeting each week and still emphasise the value of drawing from life for artists working in all sorts of media and disciplines.”
Twice so far this year I’ve modelled on consecutive Wednesdays for the life drawing courses at Morley College – 9 and 16 March, then 15 and 22 June. In the interests of variety, my final booking there before the summer holidays was for a portrait class. There was some doubt in the preceding weeks whether take-up by students would be sufficient for it to go ahead, but ultimately we had a good size class of five.
As with the life drawing classes, the tutor was Gillian Melling. We were in a different part of the college building, so I was lucky to meet her randomly at the main entrance so she could lead me through the warren of corridors to our art room. First poses were simple short studies, with my back to a wall and neutral backdrop: 10-minutes staring forward, 17-minutes turned to the right, 15-minutes turned to the left.
The next exercise lasted 25-minutes up to our break. Once more I was facing forward but now the artists, lined up before me, were encouraged to focus solely on individual features. After the interval a single 50-minute full portrait took us to the end. Without my glasses, I just stared blankly forward at an unfocused gaze point on the blur of a far wall, and allowed my mind to wander its own paths.
I tend not to enjoy posing for portrait work as much as life modelling and went through an inevitably sleepy phase, but I was alert in the second half and quite appreciated it. After the session, artists fixed their drawings to a wall and took feedback from Gillian. Apparently I have, “very arresting eyes, perfect for portraiture“, which is nice to know! Hope I’ll be back next term.
“Ferens Art Gallery is pleased to announce a site specific commission by Spencer Tunick. The internationally renowned New York based artist will gather hundreds of naked people to take part in a series of photographic installations in the city centre on 9 July 2016. In response to Hull’s maritime history Tunick’s participants will wear body paint to reference the colours of the sea found in the Ferens Art Gallery’s paintings. Sea of Hull will be presented at the gallery in 2017, during the UK City of Culture year.“
The call out came on 30 March 2016: Spencer Tunick would be returning to British shores. Ferens Art Gallery had declared an intention to gather “hundreds of naked people“, yet come the eve of their event they had no fewer than 6,000 registrants to contend with. Adding to their logistical challenge, every participant was to be body painted from the tips of their hairs to the soles of their feet in one of four blue-green colours. It would be a unique occasion – not to be missed.
Friday 8 July 2016 – to Hull…
Ferens may have said “hundreds” but I knew instinctively there would be interest from thousands; I wasted no time in signing-up. By 7:36am on the day of the call-out, both my partner Esther and I were registered. Later that day I reserved a hotel room for the July weekend. This would be Esther’s first Tunick photo shoot and my third, following Everyday People, Salford (2010), and Scope Out, Folkestone (2014). Our train for Hull departed London Kings Cross on the afternoon before the big day.
Hit the North – it begins here.
No sooner had we left Hull station than we spied familiar faces: our friend Cy and his wife Barbara. This would be a major gathering of naked-art tribes from around the UK. Enthusiasm was high but perhaps not shared by our hotel receptionist: “Are you here for that photo thing? If you get paint on the towels there’ll be a charge.” Back in town, Esther and I made for Queen’s Gardens – designated rendezvous for the shoot – in search of ‘blue people’.
Esther and Paula in sunshine at The Minerva pub.
We saw a few possible candidates in the gardens but no-one we knew, so we headed towards the waterfront in search of somewhere to eat and drink. At The Minerva pub we instantly spotted our friend Paula NudeNomad, resplendent in vivid blue wig and EU “IN” T-shirt. Despite Hull being a majority ‘Brexit‘ city, she’d enchanted the locals and said everyone had been friendly. We sat with her at one of the outside tables and tucked into plates of fish and chips, washed down with a nice Sauvignon blanc.
Esther at Ferens Art Gallery – a new masterpiece indeed.
More blue people joined us: Alain, who’d driven all the way from Belgium; John and Tony. who I’d last seen in Berlin for an Angelo Musco photo shoot; and Yorkshire natives, Denise and Lynn. It was a good crowd, but with tomorrow’s fun set to start early, we didn’t stay too late. We returned via Ferens Art Gallery – closed for major refurbishment – to our hotel, 20 minutes’ walk north of the centre and finally settled down to sleep at half-ten… with our alarm due at 1:15am.
Saturday 9 July 2016 – day of the shoot
Arrival times: 2:30am
End time: 8:30am approximately
What time you should be there: no later than 3:15am, rain or shine!
We arrived back at Queen’s Gardens ten minutes early, having passed by groups of late-night clubbers who were only just reeling home along the darkened streets. Our moth-like gravitation was towards floodlights and generators at the centre of the park where almost immediately we found friends and Tunick veterans: Yvonne and Martin Rowe, Karen and Howard, another Martin, Helmut and Cy. Kudos to Martin Rowe for running the essential Facebook group for participants during the build-up.
© Hull CC News – participants gather.
Our first act at 2:30am was to take our model registration forms to a desk on Queen’s Dock Avenue, immediately to the north of the park. In exchange we were each given a clear plastic bag with a round white sticker saying B1, B2, B3 or B4. Esther and I got B1; the others got B4. These stickers were the keys to different shades of blue. Back in the park there was a large flag for each B number, to mark where we could collect a single small white tub of paint.
Cy, Martin, Karen, Martin and Yvonne – veterans all.
Our group reconvened by a bench under the floodlight where we’d first met. We were joined by more friends: Natansky, Paula, Darren and Phil. The paint pots were rather tough to open but Darren somehow found the strength or knack. Some made smears on their faces; B4 was darkest green, B1 was a pale blue. People in groups of four or more were also given packs of baby wipes – Esther and I were merely a group of two but, showing great foresight, Esther had brought a pack for us anyway.
© Hull CC News – a preview of the paints.
© Natansky – selfie
© Martin – selfie
Participants had been emailed ten days before and given registration times at quarter-hourly intervals up to 3:15am, which meant everyone should have been registered by 3:30am. Latecomers – such as another friend, Roland, who arrived after 4am – were nonetheless able to get paint and join in. It wasn’t a particularly cold night, but I was wearing only sandals, jeans, T-shirt and a flimsy dressing gown so, after a couple of hours outside, a little chill had started to permeate.
© Civic 1 Hull CCTV – Sea of Hull surveillance.
At the organisers’ request, we’d split into our colour groups – friends found in the B1 crowd included Chas and Mike – but when Spencer emerged and climbed a ladder to address us by PA system, we drifted back towards the centre. He thanked us for our time and patience, and asked us please not to paint ourselves yet – too late for some. Most of the practical organising fell to Spencer’s assistant, Steve, whose name soon became an echoing mass cry of “Steeeeeeeeeeve!” at his every appearance.
Spencer Tunick – the man and his people.
Spencer Tunick – the man and Steeeeeeeeeeve.
Esther and I wandered over to Ronson’s Rock Café at the north side of the park and joined its long queue for cups of tea. No sooner did we reach the front than we heard the official call for everyone to undress. We hastily dunked and removed our teabags, then stepped outside to be faced with the spectacle of an entire park full of naked or semi-naked bodies in the process of undressing or applying handfuls of paint to their skin – an incredible sight. We set down our things and started to do likewise.
Let the nakedness commence.
Our location outside the café was deep within B4 territory – this meant we were highly conspicuous as the only pale blues in a ferment of dark green. We helped each other to apply the paint, covering every surface, crevice and extremity. Just a few moments later we gulped down our tea, left our possessions where we’d stripped, and became as one with what was later confirmed to be 3,200 nude painted participants, filing out towards the scene of our first shoot.
Sea of Hull #1 – Queen’s Gardens Rosebowl
At the west end of Queen’s Gardens is the ‘Rosebowl’ fountain, standing in a circle of lawns with bordered flowerbeds, each separated by a network of pathways that create the shape of a ship’s wheel. For Spencer’s first shoot we would be arranged four-deep around these paths. Spencer and his entourage would be getting their shots from atop an open double-decker bus parked on the north side, whilst a drone hovered overhead to capture us from even greater altitude.
© Spencer Tunick – calm, focus, tight.
© Ferens Art Gallery – 3,200 naked people make art.
The first spits of rain elicited a mass low groan and filled us with foreboding, but these didn’t last long and no more were destined to fall. Meanwhile, through his megaphone Spencer yelled at assistants on the ground, directing them to refine the positioning of individuals, to perfect our overall shape, and remove anyone who shouldn’t be in shot. This is the most tedious and sometimes frustrating part of these shoots for everyone concerned on both sides of the lens.
© Jon Super Photography – the circle and Steeeeeeeeeeve.
Spencer always expresses true gratitude towards those who participate in his work, and acknowledges that it would not be possible without us, yet in the intensity of the moment when creating art he becomes focused, direct, abrupt and unceremonious in his demands. Esther and I absorbed the cabaret with amused detachment, watching from the outer wheel of participants, immediately adjacent to a flower bed just below the pathway at the 9 o’clock position.
© Jon Super Photography – looking outwards.
© Jon Super Photography – looking inwards.
Sea of Hull #2 – Alfred Gelder Street
We cheered and applauded when told the first shoot was complete and Spencer had “got the shot“. For the second, we were directed to walk a short distance south and east along Alfred Gelder Street – location of the city’s magnificent Guildhall facade. We watched with some incredulity as it appeared a very small number of people were dropping out and returning to their clothes. Perhaps it was the chill or a fear of rain, or difficulty taking direction that had put them off. Such a shame, though.
© Jon Super Photography – there’s me, pale blue, isolated on the junction.
© Jon Super Photography – Steeeeeeeeeeve in King Canute mode.
© Jon Super Photography – the sea stands still, with me top-left.
In this location, Spencer would photograph us from the top of a scissor lift platform at the west end of the street. First we were adjusted forwards and backwards, sufficiently spaced out to fill the entire thoroughfare. Our colours mingled as we were asked to lay down sideways upon the cold hard road surface. Once more it seemed to take an age to tweak the shot. Esther and I were on Spencer’s left side, a short way back from the first set of traffic lights.
© Jon Super Photography – getting lower…
© Jon Super Photography – …and lower…
© Jon Super Photography – …and down.
Sea of Hull #2a – Manor Street
When we were on our feet again, four assistants spanned the road, each raising aloft a square placard. We were asked to shuffle into line behind the one that showed our particular B number and colour. More familiar faces drifted in and out of view amid the B1 set: first Rob, later Richard. Next, the B2 bodies were led away down Parliament Street. For the first time I could fully appreciate the scale of this installation as it took several minutes for them all to march by.
© Jon Super Photography – the B1 brigade.
© Amy Nicholson – bye bye B2.
The B1 blues were next to be led away. We funnelled into Manor Street and were left unattended for a while. A few of us sought natural relief in between cars on Bowlalley Lane. Eventually Spencer appeared at the top end of Manor Street and from the high vantage of his stepladder, photographed us standing and lying down. Presumably he was doing likewise with each of the four colour groups. In due course, word came for us to walk the length of Alfred Gelder Street and rejoin the other Bs at its far end.
Sea of Hull #3 – Lowgate
We regrouped and stood as one great mass along Lowgate, stretching north from the statue of Charles Henry Wilson in front of the Guildhall, all the way along Wilberforce Drive. Esther and I were among the B1 bodies closest to Spencer, who was back on his stepladder. Once again much bellowing through a megaphone was needed before we were all positioned to his satisfaction. Mostly he was preoccupied with getting us evenly spaced. His immortal words to 3,200 naked people: “If you see a hole, fill it!”
© Elinor Camille-Wood – doing as we’re told.
For this shoot we were to face left and bend forward so the camera would be directed down towards our backs. People near the front were hoicked out individually if they’d failed to achieve full body coverage with their paint. Having got his shot, Spencer told us for the first time about his plans for an additional shoot with a much smaller group of (unpainted) people on Sunday morning. A possible shoot in North Lincolnshire had been mentioned as part of the call-out but hitherto remained shrouded in mystery.
© Hull CC News – further adjustment needed.
We were told that those definitely committed to participating should take a form from one of the assistants. Ideally placed, Esther and I stepped forward with the first set of volunteers yet only four slips had been given out and a fifth was about to be put in my hand when Spencer shouted, “Don’t give them out yet! Get those slips back!” – from being tantalisingly close, we would have to wait a while longer and hope to be among the mere 300 people he needed.
© Helen Thackery – “If you see a hole, fill it”.
Sea of Hull #4 – Scale Lane footbridge
The scene of our final shoot was Scale Lane footbridge, just a 5-minute walk from the Guildhall. There would be room for only 800 of us on the bridge, but Esther and I remained comfortably to the fore and were pretty much guaranteed a position. As we crossed from Scale Lane onto its eponymous curving bridge over the River Hull, our first sensation was the jagged discomfort that accompanied every painful step of our bare feet on granulated asphalt.
© Laurie Rawlings – “This morning at around half 6…”.
© Ferens Art Gallery – there’s me, pale blue, out on the right.
On reaching where the tip of the bridge met its opposing bank, we escaped our agony by standing on wooden benches, and then waited patiently for the rest of our blue and green comrades to occupy the remaining spaces. It had felt a little cold when rain was spitting on us at the fountain, and even colder when we were lying flat on Alfred Gelder Street but, loitering here – exposed to fresh wind blowing from the Humber – we were coldest of all.
© Amy Nicholson – Spencer completes his crossing.
Esther and I hugged for warmth. Familiar faces emerged around us: John and Tony to our right, and Rachel – whom I had not met since Spencer’s Folkestone shoot – next to me on the left. Chas was nearby too, and I later found that Alain was close behind. Meanwhile, Spencer had evidently passed among us and was now leaning from a top floor window of the Premier Inn hotel directly facing us. Massed ranks of journalists filled a storey of the car park beneath it, and the drone was back overhead.
© Ferens Art Gallery – patiently we wait.
© Jon Super Photography – Esther and I are the two figures hugging.
Spencer boomed intermittently through his megaphone, adjusting our positions and encouraging his assistants to get out of shot. Whilst it may have been difficult for us to hear every word, it appeared that hotel guests had no such trouble and were soon peering and snapping from their own windows. Cold winds continued to drive through us, drawing more collective groans. We looked, perhaps with envy, as painted figures who hadn’t made the 800 walked home in their warm clothes.
© Matt Stephenson – at last the bridge swings.
After the longest time spent on any of the set-ups, the bridge at last started to swing slowly across to our right in the direction of the Humber. It paused two or three times before reaching its farthest extent. So slow – so cold! A pause, then return, stopping at intervals as it went. And when it arrived back at its starting position, we were done. Whoops, cheers and applause!! We were elated! All the previous discomfort could be disregarded as we basked in the satisfaction of a job well done.
© Amy Nicholson – open wide…
© Danny Lawson – zoom in…
© Daily Mirror – …and there we are.
It took quite a while to get off the bridge. Once on land, Esther and I both managed to bag free flip-flops from the organisers, but all the complimentary paper suits had gone. More distressingly, all the forms for the Sunday shoot had gone too. Did this mean we would miss out? On the way back to Queen’s Gardens we asked Steeeeeeeeeeve; he said the location was a field on the south-east side of the Humber Bridge – as long as we were there on time, we could take part. We decided to give it a try.
The tide goes out
We found our possessions exactly where we had left them, albeit pots of leftover paint had been spirited away. Soon we were reunited with Paula, and then Camila – a friend from many projects. Obligatory group photos and selfies followed as everyone enjoyed their final shared moments of naked freedom. Our paint was so dry it could almost be flaked off, so we used baby wipes to clean our hands but otherwise simply put on old clothes and began our long walk back to the hotel.
Selfie time
Esther Bunting, performance artist, in her blue period
A happy Martin…
…and even happier Rachel.
Esther, Paula and a pal.
Thirsty Chas…
…and tartan Paula.
Esther, me and Camila.
Away we go, 8:30pm.
As we headed north we got waves, toots and photos taken from passing cars. Fellow pedestrians bestowed their blessings on us too. We called in at Coopland’s bakery on Prospect Street and bought two hot cheese and bacon pastry wraps – it’s hard to imagine any food could have been more gorgeously warming and flavoursome at that moment. The bakery assistant was the epitome of professional politeness and batted not an eyelid at serving two blue-skinned customers with the munchies.
Leave only footprints.
Back at our hotel, Esther and I made straight for the shower bath, taking care not to leave a blue mark on any surfaces or fabric. We washed each other very slowly and methodically, regularly rinsing the bath and cleaning any stray splashes as we went. Water alone shifted the bulk of the colour, then soap and shampoo took care of any residual staining. We dried ourselves with our own blue towels and crashed out on a sheet I’d brought with us to protect the bed.
Scrubbed and well fed outside Wing’s International Cuisine.
Come mid-afternoon we had breakfast at Coopland’s Secret Garden. Facebook was already awash with the Sea of Hull photos. Most alarmingly my friend Beverley-Jayne had posted: “Just seen Steve Ritter on the BBC. Well done to everyone in the naked Spencer Tunick today.” The BBC?!? Sure enough, there I was in the first frames of a video on the BBC news website. That evening we joined 30 participants for a meal at Wing’s, and ended it sharing a quiet drink with Alain at the Minerva. What. A. Day.
BBC News videos:
- Thousands strip for Sea of Hull mass nude photograph, 9 July 2016
(with me clearly visible in the opening shot) - Naked and blue: Spencer Tunick’s latest artwork, 9 July 2016
- It’s all anyone’s talking about – Sea of Hull, 11 July 2016
Sunday 10 July 2016 – Humber shoot
At 6:30 next morning, my phone’s alarm woke me from a very deep sleep. Esther and I washed, packed, checked out of our hotel and dragged ourselves and our bags down to Hull Truck Theatre; meeting point for Spencer Tunick’s Sunday photo shoot. The previous night Alain said he would be driving to the shoot location, and offered us a lift. He would have to go out of his way to bring us back, however, so we decided to try for seats on one of the official buses.
Queuing for a bus.
Even though we lacked the required forms, we joined one of two long queues for two coaches and two double-decker buses. An assistant walked along, writing numbers on everyone’s green slips. When she reached Esther and me, I explained how we’d unluckily missed out, and she kindly wrote 218 and 219 on our hands – we were in! We met Alain and told him the news. Also in the queues, we found: Martin (without Yvonne for this one), Karen, Howard, Helmut, Camila, John and Tony.
Halfway across the Humber.
Rain started to fall as we waited to board the coaches. It might have been a sign of harsher times ahead, but for now it was merely a passing shower. Steeeeeeeeeeve appeared and explained Spencer’s plans for the morning. He then started selecting people for the first coach – seemingly all the tall people. On reaching Esther and me he asked, “Are you a couple? OK, you both go.” Our coach departed at twenty past eight and arrived in the car park of our shoot location at quarter to nine.
Spencer and assistants on location.
300 soon-to-be-nude photo models.
Here, at last, we were each given one of the elusive green slips and could complete its form. Upon handing it back we received a plastic bag for our clothes. Spencer stepped forward and onto his stepladder to address us through his megaphone. With a smaller, more manageable group, and the main day’s shoot already secure, he appeared more relaxed. He explained the shots he wanted and then at half-nine, gave us the signal to undress. The sun came out and we greatly appreciated its warmth.
Spencer shows the way.
Humber Bridge #1 – lying
For the first set-up we stood on a grassy bank with the bridge behind us, then turned to the left and lay upon the ground; it was warm and comfortable. Plastic sheets were given to those at the very top who would otherwise be lying in mud. Spencer took his time positioning individuals to create the perfect shot, with no stray patches of green showing – almost the reverse of yesterday’s colour requirement. We posed lying flat with our faces in different directions; with each arm up; with both arms up.
© Ferens Art Gallery – stripped and ready for action.
© Slice of Alex – taking instructions.
© Nova Studios – almost in position.
© Matt Stephenson – Steeeeeeeeeeve makes adjustments.
© Christopher Manson – perfect?
© Slice of Alex – Spencer eyes the shot.
© Future Ferens – hands down…
© Claire Longrigg – …and hands up.
Humber Bridge #2 – lines
All the tall people – me included – who’d been put on the first coach were called out and asked to form a line. Next, the 18 to 35 year-olds were invited to form a second line. Esther was slightly outside the age range but youthful enough in appearance to be included. Those over 35 or not sufficiently tall, or with dyed blue hair or tattoos or mobility difficulties had to sit this one out. Steeeeeeeeeeve explained what Spencer required of the chosen few, and then directed us towards the water.
© Becky Gee – positioning in the reeds.
Frogs hopped out the way as we walked in our two lines, down into the reeds by the estuary shore. Those tallest were farthest out, whilst the youngsters stayed nearest land. Spencer took a huge amount of time adjusting and honing this shot. Individuals were moved in or out of the line-ups, with some moved to different positions; making sure we were perfectly aligned when our arms were at full stretch and we held hands. With our backs to Spencer, we were a homage to the bridge.
© Ferens Art Gallery – Humber bridges.
© Hull CC News – there’s me, second from left, farthest line.
Humber Bridge #3 – standing
Finally the lines were permitted to coalesce and those who had missed out could now pile into our midst. We spaced ourselves evenly with a clear turning circle if we raised our elbows. The first shot was taken with us looking towards the Humber; then, as we turned to face the camera, the heavens opened up. An assistant raised an umbrella to protect Spencer – or rather his equipment – while the rest of us suffered the bitter chill of rain upon our naked skin.
© Becky Gee – getting colder…
Even Spencer could see that we wouldn’t have the patience to endure his protracted tweaking and repositioning so within barely three minutes he announced he’d got the shot. We cheered, applauded and dashed back to the car park. Abandoning caution, Esther and I both managed to walk barefoot through a patch of nettles, whilst others slipped and fell as they hurried down the wet grassy bank. Despite our clothes being carefully wrapped in plastic bags, I found my coat was already partially drenched.
© Becky Gee – …and about to get much wetter.
We were dressed and back on our coach by around 11am. Sadly we missed saying goodbye to Alain before it pulled away and he began his own long solo drive back to Belgium. Back outside Hull Truck Theatre the rain had halted, allowing a group of us to stand for one final celebratory photo and say fond farewells before going separate ways. Esther and I returned to the Secret Garden café for a breakfast-lunch of jacket potatoes and, again, discovered our morning’s work already on social media.
R-L: Helmut, Howard, Karen, Martin, Camila, Esther, me, et al.
…and back
Come afternoon, the sun emerged with a vengeance as we retraced our steps around the primary locations of a remarkable weekend. On Alfred Gelder Street, I located the smiley blue face that I’d watched one woman finger-paint on a pelican crossing; it still grinned at us despite the earlier rain. On Scale Lane footbridge, we found blue marks left by sore feet on the rough walkways, and paused to savour the daytime heat we’d craved during our nude shoot. It was a pleasure now just to soak up the sunshine.
B1 smile
B1 hands
The Premier Inn hotel, from the Scale Lane footbridge.
Esther over the River Hull, with tidal defences beyond.
We were not alone in taking a nostalgia trip as in due course we were joined by none other than Chas. We shared reminiscences with our fellow B1, then began a leisurely saunter to Hull station for the 4:32pm train to London Kings Cross. The experience of the shoot had been exceptional; to share it with Esther and so many friends had been joyous. Hull surprised us too, leaving us with a positive impression and enthusiasm to return for the Sea of Hull exhibition next year. Thank you #SeaOfHull!
Farewell Hull, see you soon!
Media coverage – words and photos
- Time – Thousands Got Naked and Painted Their Bodies Blue for Climate Change
- The Guardian – Thousands strip naked in Hull for Spencer Tunick photographs
- The Guardian – Sea of Hull by Spencer Tunick, in pictures
- The Independent – 3,200 naked volunteers turn the streets of Hull blue in Spencer Tunick’s ‘Sea of Hull’ installation
- Hull Daily Mail – ‘Spectacular’ Sea of Hull pictures as Spencer Tunick photographs 3,200 naked blue people
- Hull Daily Mail – Sea of Hull pictures: 21 of the best photos from Spencer Tunick naked artwork
- The Times of India – Paint it blue: Thousands strip and paint themselves blue in UK for art
Media coverage – television and video
I get an unpainted close-up with a towel around my shoulders at 0:59, but keen eyes might also spot me at 5:52, 6:55 and from 6:59 to 7:08.
I have often said that when modelling nude for life drawing groups it doesn’t matter to me whether there’s one or one-hundred artists present. Thus far that lower end of the scale hasn’t been put to the test but for a while at this session it looked a possibility. Come the 7:30pm start time, only me and organiser-artist-friend Frances had pitched up at the Telegraph Hill Centre. Truly summer is a quiet time in the life art world.
Frances asked if it would be OK if we went ahead anyway and she could simply draw me herself. We’ve known each other long enough for this to be no problem, but before we had chance to make it a private sitting we were joined by another artist; and along came a third when we were already well into the second pose – we’d become a group. For variety, Frances asked if I would mind opening it with a 5-minute kneeling pose.
Nude as I was, it seemed most poses were used as practice for portrait drawing. We continued: 5-minutes, 10, 15, and 15-minutes up to a tea break, then a single seated 40-minute pose to the end. There has always been a pleasant, laid-back, mellow vibe about Life Drawing@Telegraph Hill. I’ll be hoping to see it returned to full numbers once the midsummer lull has passed.
steve ritter 