Stripping Off In The Name Of Art
Makes me think of those dreams I used to have where I'd go to school in my underwear . . . or less.
When
Yve Ngoo announced she was going to take part in this culturally
historic event, reactions ranged from "are you mad?" to "you pervert".
Even her mother feared she could suffer some sort of post traumatic
stress disorder - and be blighted by flashbacks for the rest of her
life. But all she wanted to do was experience what thousands of people
across the world had previously done - take part in a Spencer Tunick
installation.
What I had signed myself up for didn't really hit home
until I received the lengthy email containing my consent form, which
included the demands for sobriety and the banning of socks, hats and
sunglasses.
Once undressed you had to leave your clothes,
possessions and dignity in an unidentifiable plastic carrier bag in the
middle of a car park.
After maybe 30 minutes, Spencer Tunick and his crew
welcomed us, addressing the crowds via megaphone, whilst perched
precariously on a step-ladder.
Spencer explained the "set ups". These would involve
walking three abreast (if you can have three breasts) across the
magnificent Millennium Bridge, along the Newcastle Quayside, up
historic Dean Street across the Swing Bridge, along the side of the
Sage Gateshead to return to the car park.
Getting naked
At advantageous points that would take in the exciting
and the fantastic surroundings of regenerated Quays, we would be asked
to stop and pose.
You could sense tension, excitement and apprehension in the air. There was also a final rush for the loos.
Finally, Spencer, spoke the words we all waited for: "OK, you can get naked now".
Everyone started stripping, very rapidly, as if it were a race - men were particularly quick at disrobing.
I took off my sweat top and jogging bottoms. I was naked.
Other naked people were appearing everywhere, some
balancing on one leg trying to remove socks and shoes without bending
over. I didn't look at either of my friends.
In less than two minutes, only naked bodies were
visible. People started looking at each other, friends and strangers,
seeing their bodies totally uncovered in the diffused early morning
light, in a Gateshead car park!
Dunkirk spirit
Then people began to whoop and cheer, laughing and talking like nothing had happened. Tunick had to call for quiet.
To be surrounded by hundreds of naked people is an
awesome, overwhelming sight. So many different shapes and sizes, in
varying hues, blending into a uniform mass.
Then we all started walking towards the bridge. The only people clothed were Spencer, his crew, security and the police.
When you're surrounded by total nudity in all its diversity, inhibitions gradually become less.
We dutifully fell into rank - full of the Dunkirk
Spirit, we marched triumphantly from Gateshead to Newcastle across the
magnificent Millennium Bridge to embark on cultural expedition that
would affect each and every one of us.
Three hours later, and it was a bit sad to dress again,
People dressed slowly - some holding onto their precious naked moment
as long as legally possible.
It was just after 7.30 am, and Newcastle Gateshead was beginning to wake up to lazy sunny Sunday morning.
Attention Homeland security and Police Security types. Don't you
realize this is a foolproof new method for avoiding suicide bombers.
These people could be commuters safe and without fear on their way to
work! A second benefit would also be protection against
pickpockets and pursesnackers. Wouldn't it also be great for the
sales of suntan-in-a-bottle and sunglasses.
