“You’re very tall and you’re very skinny!”
This news was broken to me by a life artist at The Beehive pub in Tottenham during our half-time break on Thursday evening. Beaming genially over his pint, he recounted the impressive diversity of models that had posed there over recent weeks. Now I was present, giving them another variation of the human form.
It’s why anybody with the right discipline and attitude can be a life model. As I replied to my new friend, “Think what the word ‘model’ brings to mind in our society and you’ll find I don’t tick any of the boxes as an individual; but set me among a broad array of models working at life groups, and I can offer unique challenges for artists.”
An impressive tally of 23 artists had turned up for this session run by Tottenham Art Classes. There was no tuition this evening, so pose times were called by the group’s organiser, Taz. She started me off with three 3-minute standing poses that created a kind of gesture sequence.
It was a muggy summer’s evening. The air hung heavy, thickened by custard sunshine that oozed through our windows. When Taz asked the artists if they would like to have a large floor fan switched on, she was answered with a resounding, “Yes!” For the first time ever, I was more grateful to have a fan in the room than a heater.
My poses continued: 5 minutes standing, 5 minutes kneeling, 10 minutes standing. I endured beads of perspiration itching their way down slowly from my hairline, across my brows and around my face to my body. It’s a form of exquisite torment when one is honour-bound not to move.
A 20-minute seated pose took us up to the break. Artists then decanted to the other bar of the pub while I admired the works they left leaning against their seats. Pencils, oil bars, watercolours and even an iPad had been put to great employment in making art. I thought the iPad work below, produced by Edward Ofosu, was outstanding.
After the break, I resumed with another 10-minute standing pose, and was then given leave to see out the remaining half an hour on my back. As always, I raised a couple of limbs to make it more interesting and three-dimensional. The red and white sheets upon which I reclined gave the artists extra colour and texture to play with.
It had been a warm, satisfying two hour’s work, rewarded with enthusiasm and colour and creativity in art. I left smiling.
Androgyny time. In the exchange of body painting ideas between myself and Amanda of Feel Good Painted, a regular theme of Amanda’s had been to make me feminine. It was not a shock, therefore, when I arrived for our second body painting session and learned that her inspiration for the evening would be geisha.
It wouldn’t be a make-over in traditional geisha style. Rather, Amanda would blend old and new concepts influenced by Japanese culture, as dissected from Google Images. We would build up various elements and discover where it took us. The only certainty was that my resulting appearance would be somewhat less than butch.
We started with the face…
In an effort to conceal my rugged eyebrows, we tried the proven technique of applying Pritt Stick and a white powder foundation. This experiment was less than successful, however, and was swiftly brought to a sticky end. The affixing of fake eyelashes – my first time with such adornment – went better.
On my torso, Amanda started by painting a large wreath of small pink cherry blossom petals. Inside this she originally planned to paint a geisha face, but on completing my make-up decided that one geisha was plenty. Instead she created a pair of windswept cherry trees in full bloom.
Beneath the wreath swam a magnificent red and gold carp. Above it curved a pleasing arch of orchids. We’d had a good laugh putting this together and I was tickled with the results. All that remained was for me to pose for the camera.
And pose I did. Not exactly recognisable as a geisha, but perhaps more like – as one friend correctly observed – an utter tart.
Between two disappointments came great satisfaction. Wednesday’s modelling had been cancelled as the organiser forgot they’d booked me and arranged for somebody else to pose instead. On Monday I’d already travelled an hour and a half when I got a call minutes from the venue, to say all but one artist had dropped out and the session was abandoned. Tough luck in both cases, sweetened with deep sincere apologies.
Tuesday at Candid Arts, however, went ahead and was very gratifying. The 14 artists who turned up were thoughtful about their work and appreciative of the poses. So was our group facilitator, Rowan James, with whom I had not previously had the pleasure of working.
I started with a 10-minute standing pose, then cycled through five 2-minute dynamic poses, before going 5 minutes standing, 10 minutes sitting and 20 minutes standing, up to a break. It was a warm night made even hotter by the studio’s ceiling-mounted heaters, but I was comfortable.
We resumed with a single 45-minute seated pose – a signature pose in which limbs were entwined and locked. I felt I needed a good session this evening, and I got my wish. It was doubly rewarding that the artists felt so positive about their work too.
I’d planned my Sunday in two halves: from 10:30am until 12:30pm I would life model at Wanstead House; afterwards I would take the tube to Piccadilly and go for my annual grumble at the Summer Exhibition of the Royal Academy of Arts.
I provided four poses for the artists of Wanstead: 5 minutes standing, 10 minutes also standing, 45 minutes seated on a chair, and – after a long break for tea and chocolate digestives – 25-30 minutes seated on the floor.
The session was quiet but friendly. Here’s what a couple of artists made of me:
As I sat on the underground bound for central London, I wondered how much better, if at all, would be those works favoured with a hanging at the RA. Well, on balance, this was a good year for the Summer Exhibition.
Previous years have disappointed by and large, and impressed by exception. In 2015, whole rooms were interesting, although in his celebrated rooms of vivid colour, curator Michael Craig-Martin seemed to created striking environments of art without picking very many works of individual merit.
As usual there was far too much mutual admiration between Royal Academicians. Oil works and sculptures were generally mediocre, whereas Room V (prints) and Room X (‘A Humument‘ of Tom Phillips) were filled with exquisite little gems.
Norman Ackroyd RA, Bernard Dunstan RA, Ken Howard RA, Emma Stibbon RA had outstanding works on display, as always. Stibbon in particular, but Dunstan alone provided works that might have come straight from a life drawing group.
The top three works I would have picked to take home, however, were:
- 3 – ‘I just want to be held‘, Deborah Brown, c-type print (£1,000)
- 2 – ‘Sanctum‘, Michael de Bono, oil (£9,200)
- 1 – ‘Noon fishing‘, Mick Moon RA, acrylic on canvas mounted on board (£18,000)
Noon fishing – Mick Moon, RA
It had been a good day for amateurs and professionals alike.
Hot on the heels and wheels of being body painted for the 2015 London Naked Bike Ride, I was back with Feel Good Painted for a lower-key, informal body art session.
For Amanda, it was an opportunity to experiment with ideas, without any pressure to deliver a particular finished design for a customer. For me, it was the chance to learn about the materials, techniques, processes and durations of body painting.
We arranged the session for the Friday immediately after the bike ride, and agreed to work on a composition with a ‘jungle’ theme. This would allow various elements to be doodled together with no fixed end design in mind. We would see where the flow took us over the course of two or three hours.
Amanda began with lilies, then added a snake, followed by a hummingbird and some foliage, and finally a small frog with a big orange hand. Some details she liked, some she didn’t like, but this was the very point – it was about discovery, whilst also being rather relaxing in a therapeutic kind of way.
On this occasion the artwork adorned just my back. At the end we took a few photos before I pulled on a T-shirt and headed home. My shower that night saw me standing in a pool of green rather than the muddy brown that usually seems to follow body art.
It had been another enjoyable experience – certainly one to be repeated.
“Do you want to model in Romford next week?”
“Probably. 🙂 What day and address?”
Thus a new booking at a new venue came my way. A friend had found herself obliged to pass on the booking, and gladly I was able to accept it. The group’s organiser was keen too, so our date was set.
The life drawing evening at St Alban Church Hall is the quintessential small, friendly gathering of artists. The half-a-dozen regulars who came along to draw me were all on first name terms, and when a new first-time artist arrived just before the start she was made very welcome.
I would be providing four poses for them: 10 minutes standing, 20 minutes seated and 20 minutes standing, up to our break. After tea and biscuits I settled down to a single 45-minute pose reclining on a huge inflatable bed – rarely have I known comfort like it whilst modelling.
Our newcomer artist was none other than Amanda of Feel Good Painted, who had body painted me for the 2015 London Naked Bike Ride just the previous Saturday. It seemed fitting, after she’d given me my first ever half-day of body art, that I should pose for her first ever life drawing session.
I was grateful to be asked if I could model again after the summer break, and averred that I would be only too happy to return. A good time was had by all.
The London Naked Bike Ride: it’s a protest against oil dependency; a commentary on the visibility and vulnerability of cyclists; a celebration of body freedom. It’s among the largest of all the World Naked Bike Ride events. I had taken part in 2009, 2011, 2012, 2013 and 2014 – for the twelfth annual ride, in 2015, I needed to get organised.
I’d decided to buy (rather than hire) a bike, and I wanted to be body painted. Typically, I left myself less than a month to arrange both. The bike was delivered and assembled just in time to make its maiden road-trip at the event itself. I half expected the tyres to go flat, the gears to fail, or the front wheel to fall off… but somehow I got away with it.
In colours
For the body painting I was entrusted to Amanda of Feel Good Painted. Our mutual friend, Natansky – who was organising the Tower Hill start of the ride – brokered the arrangement. We exchanged design ideas and agreed to devote a couple of hours to the painting at Amanda’s house in the morning. I would then head down to Tower Hill and Amanda would go to West Norwood, where more riders awaited decoration.
My body art was to be vivid psychedelia. We began at 9am with a flower of glitter and glue on my chest. Next, with assistance from Amanda’s friend Ann-Marie, I had arcs and swirls and spirals applied simultaneously both to my front and back – upper body, arms and buttocks – plus a matching motif on my forehead. I don’t know where all the time went but somehow two hours turned into three. I was delighted with the results.
When the work was done, I posed for a quick set of photos to record the masterpiece before we went our separate ways. I had a little time in hand before I was due to meet Natansky and others at Tower Hill, whereas Amanda and Ann-Marie raced away with their paints, still hoping to embellish another seventy riders in one hour. Heroic stuff.
View from the Hill
Arriving at Trinity Square Gardens opposite Tower Hill station around 1:30pm, I found Natansky inside the Tower Hill Memorial having the last strokes applied to her own paintwork by body artist, Asha. With them were: ride marshal, Simon; the first of our official photographers, also called Simon; and a handful of other early-arriving riders.
Natansky gets her finishing touches
Initially I hadn’t recognised Natansky in her large black wig. As we chatted I could see she was shivering with cold – I was grateful to have had my own body painted indoors. The sky was thickly overcast, the breeze was chilly and there had been a fine spitting of rain. It looked set to be less than pleasant conditions, but no-one was backing out.
The formal gathering time was 2:30pm for a 3pm start. Friends and ride veterans, Cy and Chas, joined us, as did Adrian and James. Our second official photographer was Scott: another friend from bygone projects. And it was nice to meet newcomers such as Roberto, the Mexican chap who would be riding in his Zorro mask and cape.
About to hit the road – © Scott Hortop
At around a quarter to three, Natansky gave the signal for us to undress and move our bikes towards the junction with Byward Street. As the number of naked cyclists grew, so did the crowd with cameras. Respectful photographers are always welcomed, and it seemed there weren’t too many intrusive voyeurs. It was a good atmosphere.
Riders mustering for the signal to start… including Zorro, top right
Jumping the gun
We continued inching forward in anticipation. It’s odd that the cold we’d felt so keenly while in light clothes was suddenly absent from our minds when we had no clothes at all. We were lining up nicely when things went unexpectedly a bit pear-shaped. Those in front set off too early – no fewer than 8 minutes too early, in fact.
And we’re off! But too soon!
Natansky was still herding cyclists at the back of the pack when those in front made their move. Oblivious to the mistake, the rest of us simply followed. Halting scores of naked cyclists strung out over hundreds of metres along Lower Thames Street, music blaring, whistles blowing, is not an easy thing to do.
Emerging from under London Bridge, out on to Upper Thames Street
There weren’t many pedestrians by the roads leading down to the Thames, but those we passed greeted us with looks of astonished glee. Cheers intensified as we pushed further towards the centre of London. People on bridges waved as we streamed below them. Motorists on the opposite side of the road tooted their approval.
Signalling our arrival at Victoria Embankment
From Upper Thames Street we dashed through Blackfriars Underpass and emerged at the eastern end of Victoria Embankment. It wasn’t until we neared Temple station that Natansky finally passed me in blur of fluorescence and body paint, pedalling frantically to chase down our frontrunners.
“Cycle lane not in use” – but today that didn’t matter
When she’d caught up, her first job was to slow us down. The significance of starting at exactly 3pm was that it would synchronise us with other rides from Regent’s Park, Hyde Park, King’s Cross, Clapham Junction and West Norwood. Our ride would now have to be punctuated with pauses until we were across Westminster Bridge.
Playing the waiting game beneath the terrace of Somerset House
Still on Victoria Embankment we went under Waterloo Bridge and passed Cleopatra’s Needle – where last weekend I’d helped at one of Natansky’s photo shoots – before turning onto Northumberland Avenue. We caught our first glimpse of Nelson’s Column looming over the trees as we headed towards Trafalgar Square.
The Tower Hill riders are first to reach Trafalgar Square
At this point last year we had the joy of seeing riders from other starting points sweep before us as everyone converged according to plan. This year we waited… and waited. The tooting of a few tetchy motorists behind us in Northumberland Avenue showed we weren’t alone in missing the joy.
The waiting game… time for a selfie
Come together
Onwards we went, turning left into Whitehall, still shepherded by Natansky and Simon wearing their high-vis waistcoats and nothing else – this was unusual crowd-control at the heart of government. Nelson’s Column had been our marker before; now Elizabeth Tower – previously St Stephen’s Tower, but generally ‘Big Ben’ – was our target.
Naked people riding bikes along Whitehall
Natansky at Horse Guards Parade
Passing the Cenotaph – © Massimo Usai
At the end of Whitehall, before entering Parliament Square, we waited again. This time it seemed our numbers might actually have increased. The other rides had reached us at last. I spotted more friends – Camila and Chris – amongst us. We were now all set to push on as a single mass. As if to celebrate with us, the sun broke through.
Naked bike riders assemble – thumbs up to that
Seats of democracy – the Houses of Parliament
We turned left into Parliament Square. This has always been a part of the circuit most busy with tourists but this year was insane. As I headed towards Westminster Bridge, Natansky yelled to me: “Tell the crowds to get back!” I’d never seen anything like it.
Hundreds of onlookers had left the pavements and swarmed into the road, creating a narrow funnel for us to pass through. It was like the Tour de France. Yelling made no difference. I decided to keep my bike on a straight course so if they didn’t get out the way they would get hit. Simple. I reckon I got about a dozen.
Running the gauntlet – © Chrissie Judge
Familiar folk from last year’s ride, with encroaching photographers
Baring south
Turning off Westminster Bridge Road on to Addington Street, we left the throng behind us. There was to be no lingering in south London as we rolled along the length of York Street and then left on to Waterloo Bridge. If Westminster Bridge is where the tourists gather, Waterloo Bridge is where the wily photographers are to be found.
On Waterloo Bridge – well, driver, can you?
My Waterloo crossing – © Canonite Wink
Off the bridge… – © Scott Hortop
…on to Lancaster Place – © Scott Hortop
Justice
Back in north London we went from Lancaster Place, across the Strand – always lots of cheering here – and around Aldwych, rejoining the Strand to pass before the Royal Courts of Justice. One of our number separated here to stage a lone demonstration in favour of justice for Stephen Gough, the “Naked Rambler”.
Before the law – nakedness at the Royal Courts
We took a left into Chancery Lane, another left into Carey Street, and then a right into Serle Street, to emerge at Lincoln’s Inn Fields – our traditional rest area. After three-quarters of a lap we dismounted. This was a chance to escape the saddle and find the friends we’d lost sight of during our journey so far.
Entering Lincoln’s Inn Fields, the sun took another look at us
Out of the saddle – © Ðariusz
Enigmatic red-bob lady – a regular at every ride
Another location from a Natansky photoshoot earlier this year
West End
The one place I never dreamt we would try to pass through again on a naked bike ride was Covent Garden. After the bottleneck chaos of 2013, it seemed risky to attempt a return. Indeed, apparently we weren’t supposed to go back but somehow we were led there: Remnant Street, Great Queen Street, Long Acre, Bow Street, Russell Street…
Scene of the 2013 Covent Garden bottleneck – this year all clear
At least this year we got through cleanly, weaving around the crowds and apologising to buskers for hijacking their audience. We were now navigating a few less-celebrated streets of London’s West End, on our way back to Trafalgar Square: Henrietta Street, Bedford Street, Chandos Place, William IV Street…
Back we go – on Chandos Place
Aiming at the National Portrait Gallery – on William IV Street
William IV Street ran on to St Martin’s Place, from where we swung left on to Charing Cross Road to go around Trafalgar Square and beneath Admiralty Arch. Together with Westminster, this is one of the most intense parts of the ride. The better thing here is that the roads are clear and wide, allowing us to free-wheel through the cheers.
Majesty
My favourite part of the ride will always be the run along the Mall towards Buckingham Palace. The splendour, the majesty, the pageantry, the wide open road, and our ride’s anarchic frivolity pitched into its heart, all appeal to me hugely. It was a shame that by now I’d become separated from friends. I savoured the moment at a leisurely pace.
Putting the ‘great’ in Great Britain
Trooping the colour – © Ian Hollaway
Our last stop should have been the finish line, but it’s impossible to resist jumping off the bike in front of Buckingham Palace for selfie capers. Ride marshals were keen, in no uncertain terms, to get us pedalling again but, hey, I pay my taxes, it’s my palace too. No law was broken in the making of this photo.
The peasants are revolting
End game
As all ride regulars know, we usually turn up Constitution Hill and finish at Wellington Arch. Not this year, however. To thwart the more notorious voyeur photographers, this year we had a new unannounced finish line. In fact it was so secret that several riders went off to Wellington Arch anyway – some consolation for the voyeurs, perhaps.
The other twist this year was that the finish was not actually the finish. Those who’d set off from West Norwood or Tower Hill would be riding back naked to their starting points. Our return route was to be direct: Birdcage Walk, Great George Street, Spur Road, Bridge Street, left on to Victoria Embankment, then back the way we came.
Entering Birdcage Walk
A brief flirtation with marshal status – © Cy Wol
Lingering on Great George Street
Under Hungerford Bridge
We’d reached our finish line at ten past five, set off again at half-five, and finally arrived back to Tower Hill at ten past six. We’d been naked on the streets of London for more than three hours. Every year the ride is different, every year brings its own chaos and euphoria, every year we love it. Time for one last photo to celebrate.
Tower Hill naked bike riders, 2015 – © Natansky
Aftermath
When at last we dressed and wheeled our bikes away, I found that my right foot was in agony from some sort of strain. This was not useful as my day was far from over. I locked my bike outside Fenchurch Street station then caught the tube from Liverpool Street to Piccadilly, heading for the Royal Academy of Arts.
I was to be a volunteer at ‘The Other Garden Party‘, helping to guide people into the Art Macabre life drawing salon. In the Academy’s published dress code, guests were requested: ‘Please come wearing your finest floral dresses or brightly coloured shirts‘. I simply wore no shirt at all – and was thus brighter than most.
Some time after 10:30pm, the pain from my foot had become too much so I began the slow limp home, collecting my bike along the way. Gone one o’clock in the morning, I was indoors, washed, and down on all fours, wearily scrubbing out the shower. Was it really worth such trouble and discomfort? Just try to stop me doing it again next year.
Until next year, let’s continue reliving the 2015 ride through Cy’s 15 minute video:
steve ritter 