My recount of being nude in and around the Opera House starts here:
I woke up at 2:30am, and was instantly at full consciousness, where waking up normally would involve me fighting being really awake for at least an hour. Got up, chose some clothes and shoes which would be quick and easy to get on and off. Mum had offered to drive me in to the city and back, and I could hear her getting ready to go, which meant I didn’t have to do the uncomfortable task of waking her up. Getting into the car I felt the bite in the air, but it didn’t deter me; I didn’t really think about whether or not it would be cold once I stripped off. We talked a lot in the car on the way to the Opera House, neither of us were groggy from the ridiculous wake-up time. As would be expected, there was no traffic, and we made it to the Opera House in twenty-five minutes.
Driving down Macquarie st. finally showed us some life; and everyone, walking, taxis and cars, were headed in the same direction. It wasn’t too congested, but that was to be expected since arrival time was meant to be after 4am. So it surprised me once we got to the end of Macquarie st to the roundabout in front of the Opera House and there was a line of people about 500 strong already. More than half an hour early. I lined up, by myself, feeling a mixture of independence and loneliness; most people had come with a friend, or in a group. I was the only one as far as I could see alone. I used my phone as solace, updating twitter and facebook. Within two minutes of me lining up, the queue had extended from the roundabout to Circular Quay station; not in single file, but in a line at least two or three people wide.
I could already tell all the people around me in the line were gay, guys and girls alike. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, it’s only now after looking at articles and how other people have responded to it that I’ve thought about the sexuality of the people I was with. It was vaguely annoying; there were some very very good looking guys there.
Eventually we started moving, and we handed in our pre-filled and signed Model Waivers in exchange for a ticket to the Opera House, and a large, clear plastic bag.
Waiting next to the stairs of the Opera House was…interesting. It was about 4/4:30am, it was cold, and I didn’t really have anything to do other than observe other people. People had come from all over Australia, some even from overseas, just to be in this. And for all different reasons. There were two guys who had come even though one of them was still obviously recovering from surgery; he hadn’t been out of the house for six months because of it, and this would be the first time. It was a landmark for them, and for them the whole nude thing along with the timing in their lives would symbolise how fragile the human body is.
I lol’d when this guy with an English accent asked this short, small girl if her parents had allowed her to come. He asked her if she was 12, and when she said otherwise, he said “Thank god, I didn’t want to be a pedophile today.” He pronounced pedophile strangely, I remember. Like “pee-dophile”.
They turned out to only be there to see naked chicks…it made me kind of uncomfortable. But they left and I felt more at ease; just listened to peoples conversations around me until we were given instructions via megaphone by one of Tunick’s helpers in pink. Who told us he’d be back at 6am to give us more info. …Boo. There was one really annoying guy in the crowd…you know the type…the one who is funny for about the first two wise-cracks they yell, then you wish they would shut the fuck up every time after that? Bleh.
Eventually Spencer Tunick got on the PA and stood on the stairs above us to say hi, thank us, and give a bit of a talk. In it, he said that it was “great to see the straight community supporting their gay friends”, which is when I actually thought about what I was doing. I hadn’t for a second seen this as a “I’m doing this because the Mardi Gras organised it”, I’d been doing it because I wanted to be nude. In public. On camera. Things suddenly changed; no longer was I thinking about this selfishly, I was doing it for other people. Spencer’s talk humbled me completely.
He finished his talk, and suddenly I was with a new group of people surrounding me. They started talking to me, a gay couple and a lesbian couple. All middle aged, a bit older than my parents, and all of them treated me like I could have been their kid. I felt looked after; a stark contrast to the guys who left. I was hugely comfortable. The ladies were pretty apprehensive about having to strip; they kept asking if it was really necessary we wait until sunrise. I was asked how I got there and how I was getting home, and when I told them my mum was responsible for both, there was an “awwwww” moment. It was nice. One of the guys has already taken off his shows and other clothing, one of the ladies found this highly amusing and kept commenting on how eager he was. He must have been 60 (looked kind of like a friend of mum’s) and his footwear of choice was checked Vans…I found this interesting.
Suddenly, a cheer went up from people closer to the botanic gardens; we all turned to see what the fuss was about. The first group of people had been ordered to strip. I’d removed my glasses by this point and couldn’t see people individually, but I could see a mass of flesh coloured shapes where once it was mostly black and grey. About five minutes later, we were also given the go ahead. I had absolutely no hesitation. I think I would have freaked myself out if I had, because I would have looked at everyone else and gone “holy shit”.
In moments my clothes were off and in the plastic bag they’d given us. Moving through the crowd to get up the stairs was…weird. In public, you don’t really want to come into contact with strangers when they’re clothed, let alone completely naked. So navigation was awkward. I dumped my bag under the stairs and moved up, almost running with my eagerness (here’s where my narcissism shines through) to get to one of the edges. Primarily so I;d be able to pick myself out in the photos/be easily spotted. This didn’t end up happening, so oh well.
I was situated, if you’re looking at the photos, close to the top of the stairs, on the far left side (but not on the rail). I stood between a shortish latino looking guy with tattoos and a ponytail and beard, and on my right was a girl about my age, if not a little older, who looked like she must have been part or full aboriginal. She was very gregarious, we talked a bit…actually she talked to everyone. She was fun, and so were her friends.
From sunrise at 7am til 8am, Spencer organised us over the PA into formation. This took up most of the time, just moving people where he wanted us to be so we’d cover up as much ground as possible. He got us to do about six different positions. Facing forward (but not looking at him), facing the Opera House, facing the Opera House with our hands in the air, facing the city but staring up at the sky, lying on our backs, and finally, kissing someone.
He tried the kissing one after two positions, and it was obvious most people weren’t at all comfortable with kissing randoms, and in a lot of cases weren’t comfortable even kissing friends if that’s who we were with. So he canned it and came back, the second time he changed his mind and let us just pretend to kiss; embracing someone so it looked like we were kissing. In the end I teamed up with a thin woman with a tattoo above and right of her manicured hedge, and an older guy who had a metal heart valve, which anyone in about three meters of him could hear ticking. This was awesome, because I was absolutely fucking freezing by this stage; to the point my teeth were chattering uncontrollably.
I wasn’t the only cold one; every time a gust of wind blew, the crowd would collectively groan. When we were facing the back, you could only see asses, and there were a couple of skinny guys who you cold see their bums quivering with cold. It was also at this point I was admiring the human body, and comparing all the different tan lines and shades of skin. It was awesome.
Heart valve guy asked me what made me get up to do this, and I shrugged and told him and the girls I wanted something to freak my grandkids out with when I got old. They laughed and agreed with me, and also agreed that since people get annoyed with us walking around the house naked, this seemed like a perfect opportunity to be naked and no one would care. Heart valve guy was also really nice and asked my permission to avoid seediness if I wanted him to rub my back to offer some extra warmth because I was shaking so much. I accepted; I was desperate.
The other interesting people I saw at this point were the guy who bought his dog on a leash and who could only walk using those arm crutches old people use. …Actually no one else springs to mind as interesting. I think I was in awe of anyone who REALLY made an effort to be there.
Jokes were made, much lulz were had. Helicopters and ferries were detouring to get close to the Opera House and giving us a blast of their horn; every time this happened we’d all wave and yell. I can only imagine what people would have thought if they had no idea what was going on. Someone started slapping their thighs, maybe to keep warm, who knows. But it spread like a wave and in seconds everyone was doing it.
That news dude took of his shirt and we all started egging him on to join us. He did, but for only a minute or so before bailing again. Loser. He got booed when he left.
Finally finished at 8am, and we were told that the first 2500 people had been given tickets to the Opera House. The meant me, YAY! And that we were doing another installation inside. By now I’d told mum not to bother waiting for me, because she’d been waiting since 3.30 am for me, with nothing really to do. Some people put on clothes and went into the Opera House, I thought “fuck it” and found my bag and went in still naked.
Found my seat and all easily, and the two girls I’d lined up with at the very beginning were next to me. People had been given “stage” tickets and so there was a big group of people on the stage in front of us, the first few to go up were being theatrical and playing it up, everyone was cheering. One of the guys who got up started doing cartwheels and stuff, it was hilarious. After landing awkwardly on one of them, he stopped, and then sat facing us with his legs spread unnaturally far apart. Exhibitionist.
I was watching people as they came in, and it occurred to me that I wasn’t looking at peoples bodies, but at their faces. Once everyone is naked, looking at the parts you don’t normally see becomes unnatural. When you look at people, it’s usually at their faces, and so that’s what was happening still, even in usual circumstances. There were a couple of stand outs though; one portly guy who was completely tattooed from the neck down; another older guy with an unusual piercing, a chick with oddly large boobs, a really fat guy I only noticed because he was standing up when everyone else was sitting down…
The indoors set up took as long as the outdoors one, which I wasn’t expecting. I almost killed myself when he told us to stand on the seats, cause they’re those weighted seats that flip up when you’re not sitting on them. He directed us to “drape” ourselves over the seats and stuff, and repeated like 50 times for us not to be facing him, which some people simply DID NOT GET. Either not thinking, or knowing full well what he was about to say, he said “FACE THE ORGAN”. Lulz ensued, as well as yells of “Which one?”. There was an epic sense of camaraderie; every time a single person got directed to move somewhere else, we’d all cheer for them, and when the only guy to refuse to put away his camera was escorted out, we all booed. I was told later that guy had a boner. Spencer caught him and was telling him to put the camera away, and repeating “That’s not respectful” before asking security to get him to leave.
We finished inside and we all cheered, and were told not to leave without clothes. I got dressed again and left without much dallying; smiling to myself looking at all these now clothed people who kind of suddenly didn’t seem as approachable and friendly as they did when they were similarly naked. I suppose clothes are an unspoken defense.
I walked back to Circular Quay station, and as I passed people who had obviously not been part of the event, I considered telling them “Hey guess what, everyone walking out of the Opera House has just been nude for two hours!”, but I didn’t bother, I think I may have given some old people a heart attack if I made them think about us all without clothes. People were talking about being proud of themselves for doing it, I think I was only proud I woke up on time.
I got on my train and hit a wall, the high began wearing off and I suddenly felt really tired. I was back in my world, back to being boring and self-conscious in clothes.
