Wild, naturist and free ~ Brighton Rock

Body painted at the World Naked Bike Ride, Spencer Tunick’s Sea of Hull, and last week with the Neo Naturists at the ICA. Also of course in my 3 Girl in Suitcase performances. Guerilla nude photoshoots during each visit to Venice, and as well twice on Hilly Fields. This year has been exciting for me for a proliferation of artistic naturist opportunities, surely not unrelated to having a partner with similar leanings.

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WNBR 2016 © AntwoneWalters.com

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part of the Sea of Hull (photo by Steve)

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Backstage at the ICA Steve and I painted each other Neo Naturist style. Photo by Cy Wol

I have been getting back to where I was 3 years ago it seems. Revisiting Scotland with Spirited Bodies, renewed enjoyment of the nude art community, and finding my way towards playing a role with WOW, as a mentor for girls once more. In 2013 I took part in speed mentoring school girls on the London Eye on the Day of the Girl. When asked for feedback afterwards I responded that I felt slightly misplaced in the role as no school girl aspired to be a nude art model! It wasn’t the point; it was all the other things about what I do that I need to share. Spreading the message of body confidence and empowering women, developing art projects, and surviving unusual pathways. A 12 year old might not imagine where I have come from, but you never know. I signed Laura Bates’ petition this week demanding that sex and relationship education become compulsory in all schools. The availability of violent porn to youngsters has led to a rise in teenage rape, largely due it seems to ignorance. The young people don’t know that this isn’t normal because they haven’t been presented with another way. There need to be healthier examples and people who aren’t afraid to speak about these issues. That could be me.

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at the Lido beach Venice, February 2016 photo by Steve

This month I felt strongly the need to shed a layer (again). To embrace more the light, and cleave less to darkness. Those parts of my past that I am separate from now I do not shun. I just need space to grow my own way without old associations limiting my path. Then when I have created new patterns, it becomes ok to revisit the old without fear of undue influence.

My blood rituals; often signifying shedding a layer; marking myself with an old (waste) part of me, then rinsing it off. Yesterday in Brighton the sea was choppy and I saw a rock I could sit on for the act so to be steadier, yet still close to, sometimes within the water.

I arrived at the naturist beach in the afternoon with my partner, Steve, and our long-time friend, Rodger. We undressed, though it was brisk at first, and had a cup of wine. Toasting our capers and Rodger’s 60th year, cameras were readied and my menstrual supply was by my side. Although a private moment, the ritual gains significance for being captured and shared. Psychically knowing it is out there increases my sense that this will change something within me. It gives me a chance to share a message with others too.

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photo by Rodger

The pebbles under foot were uncomfortable to tread on. I reached the water which was charged and rushing even at the edge. I was moving forward commitedly and successive waves kept splashing me more. Any sense of coldness was lessened by my pumping adrenaline, my effort to remain upright in the face of uneven painful footing; the force of the enormous sea pushing me back as I lurched towards the rock. I was focused; I had to be; there was no being casual here. It was set for drama. There was the potential of a calmer sunshine in the gaps between the clouds, but nothing sure and I just felt to seize the moment.

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I gripped the seaweeded rock and pulled myself on. There was to be no standing on the slippery¬† wave crashed and submerged platform; too dangerous, easily knocked off and blown about. No I sat, still clutching my tiny full pot of blood. I unscrewed it and poured it liberally around limbs and torso. The intense elements hastened me, so little time was spent just enjoying this moment. Quickly blood dripped then splashed off by waves. The smell of menstruation from April I believe, was strong, but hardly did it stay on me. I bathed, lowered myself surfing the rock (part of a groyn) on my belly. All wet with the sea I faced the expanse of water, then turned back and sat astride. At once ready for the walk to shore I attempted to climb down but was pushed off the rock by another wave. Knocked under water I became more involved in my scene than I’d planned but knew the immersion was good. I stood again, finding feet to make the walk. More than refreshed this felt quite raw and wildish, beyond health and safety!

Back on the stony beach out of the water I found a new cut in my foot flowing fresh blood. My friends stopped filming and helped me stumble back with a towel. We discovered more scratches grazed in the backs of my legs and right buttock, presumably from the point of being pushed off the rock. I’d not felt sharp edges but who knows underneath the powerful water what marked me, maybe barnacles under the greenery. I’d shed old blood, washed it off then opened fresh wounds, to make more memorable perhaps my encounter with Brighton rock.

With thanks to Rodger and Steve for recording my cleansing ritual.

 

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The Sant’Erasmo Blood Ritual

Unplanned and spontaneously born of some organisational fuck up on the part of It’s Liquid, this bloodening on a remote shore of a Venetian island salvaged a tricky episode. Truly I am grateful to It’s Liquid on several levels. They invited me to perform two different performances in Venice last week, and the invitation had come through back in May, shortly after my last show for them. It gave me a reason to hone Girl in Suitcase, particularly for a travel and international version, and as well to create a brand new show, which I entitled Blood>>>Orange.

Whereas my April visit to Venice had been straight forward and smoothly run, it seemed that It’s Liquid had bitten off a bit more than they could chew on this occasion. It wasn’t personal, but they did not handle it well. They showed the utmost disrespect to many of the performing artists. I will record this separately concerning Girl in Suitcase on that site, but as for Blood>>>Orange, it seemed only I was involved in the debacle. I had been booked to perform in the Hilton Molino Stucky Skyline rooftop bar, on Saturday 6th August as part of the Colors of the Sky series, for the Funky Orange evening.

The It’s Liquid performance art contribution to these Hilton events had been meanwhile suspended unbeknowst to us, and they never thought to inform me. I had already picked up that the organisation on this visit left a lot to be desired and certainly sensed something was up, but with no official information, I continued to prepare for the Saturday gig as planned. My partner Steve and I took the considerable gear over to Giudecca island, to the hotel only to find they weren’t expecting us. The hotel staff were really accommodating and friendly however, and possibly would have let me perform, but it wasn’t the point in fact. I sensed that my somewhat edgy performance would not fit so well here, between the more mainstream singer and DJ and the very well dressed guests; I mean I would have been happy to present there, but without a properly prepared introduction (from It’s Liquid) I preferred not to.

There was a fantastic view from the roof at sunset (we arrived around 9pm), but we would have to wait till 10:30pm to perform, and that would in fact be during either the singer or the DJ’s slots. We felt out of place and hungry. We wouldn’t have been paid for performing and couldn’t afford the food there, so decided to find a more reasonably priced meal by the water’s edge further along the island. We left the option of returning to perform open, but took all our kit with us. I knew in my heart that we didn’t want to go back. We wanted to move on from this mess, and get back to our holiday. It did take me a while to debrief, as preparing for a performance is more than the practical and physical considerations. I become psyched up for quite a while before, in this case a few months even. If the intended outlet doesn’t happen I am thrown into a limbo of confusion. I am not ready to return to the everyday; I need the hyper-reality of performing to take place somehow.

Steve and I knew what we would do, and the weather was kind. I had brought blood supplies for the Blood>>>Orange show, and didn’t want to return to London until my jars were empty. Sunday 7th August was our last full day in Venice, with nothing planned except now completing the mission. Throughout the preceding week (and indeed earlier trips in the year) we had visited several of the smaller surrounding islands, at least all those that are available by vaporetto. We had discovered the best spots for solitude and natural beauty, and the island of Sant’Erasmo suggested itself to us clearly. There is a crowded beach in high season on a hot Sunday, but we knew to walk further round where far fewer folk venture. There we had the space and landscape we wanted, to be unwatched and left alone.

We waded through muddy marshes and long prickly grasses till we found our perfect spot. The blood in my bag was from my last two menstrual cycles, kept in the fridge for such occasions! The ritual side of it is pouring the blood on my naked body. I make particular movements which invest greater energy in the proceeding, and focus me. There is an embracing of my cyclical, female nature; as well a letting go of recent events and processes, and a rinsing cleansing action in the water to refresh myself. I am completing a cycle; more than a monthly one, a wider episode in time too. I am connecting with (Mother) nature, and the elements – Earth, which I stand on first and drops of my blood fall to; Air, which I move through, the gentle breeze sometimes sending the stream of blood away from my skin; Water, which I walk into and submerge myself in and splash on myself to wash; and Fire, represented by the Blood itself that was created and expelled by my body and signifies my fertility and creativity.

Steve filmed me and as well added some music afterwards. The track is The Host of Seraphim by Dead Can Dance, and was part of the setlist for Blood>>>Orange, indeed the scene in which the bloodening takes place. I have used the track in the Goddess version of Girl in Suitcase (last year), so it is already established in my performance psyche!

After the disappointment of the previous day(s), this outing on Sant’Erasmo felt really special, loaded with impetus to reclaim something that I had been denied. An intention to celebrate that moment with myself and Steve, in that place and time. It felt joyful and liberating as well as sensual. We had considered a further performative action, also connected with the undelivered performance, but after my blood ritual I felt no further need to make that, for now.

Here is the film!

With thanks to Steve.

Summer Solstice with Neo Naturists!

Thanks to my friend Peter I got a last minute ticket to be with the Neo Naturists yesterday when they were at Hayward Gallery doing body painting.

a few people drew on paper

most of us got straight to work painting each other… on each other, as well as clothes

I said I wanted a baby elephant inside my belly

This experience is almost beyond words. The power of touching strangers with a paint brush and exercising expressive motion is very liberating. It ought to be compulsory. To see others’ bodies as normal and then make art with them breaks down barriers. Love love love. How much closer we may all be if we did more of this with each other freely.

I am quite a tactile person and enjoy the touch of the brush

The Neo Naturists are Christine Binnie (originally a life model), her sister Jennifer and their friend Wilma Johnson (all 3 are artists). Their practice blurs the roles of artist, model, tutor & canvas as ideally everyone models, paints, is painted and may instruct. After a long day in the studio we tumbled down to the Thames for the brave ones to strip on the beach, and we danced around a fire for a Solstice ritual. A most healthy act of nudity!

The Neo Naturists began in 1981, they came from a new romantic background where one took hours to get ready. They wanted to channel this obsession with painting the self into an art practice with greater freedom of expression. They performed in body paint in the London club scene. Similar to my previous post about feminists, these women then had a break partly due to the advent of children. The sisters reformed during the Noughties a couple times, and now for the first time the 3 of them are back!

http://www.neonaturists.org.uk/

http://www.englandgallery.com/EXHIB_Neo_Nats.htm

http://www.wilmaweb.com/neonaturists.html

http://www.theblitzkids.com/site_archive/the_blitz_kids/neonaturistpics.html