Story: Why I Shed My Tunic for Spencer

I was first introduced to the work of Spencer Tunick leafing through the April 2003 Esquire magazine.

Beginning on page 124 was a two page spread of Barriers 3 (Delancey Street) 1998, a color image depicting nude human bodies strewn around the entrance to a subway station, presumably in Manhattan.

The image was both shocking and disconcerting. In a post-9/11 New York, this could easily be the fallout of a dirty bomb. The photograph seemed almost prophetic, warning us about the next apocalypse. I was so moved and disturbed, I tore it out of the magazine and filed it.

I forgot about Tunick till later in 2003, when Surface ran an article entitled Nude Awakening. A footnote added: Tunick’s first one-man show will open at the Cleveland MOMA in January 2004. And so I looked up the Cleveland Museum of Modern Art on the Web, and was offered the opportunity to “Sign Up to Pose Nude”. Apparently, Spencer was celebrating his solo show with a show of public nudity in this Midwestern city. Six months later, I found myself on a redeye to Ohio.

Tunick’s work can be interpreted on many levels. To the skeptic, it may seem as mere sensationalism. Tunick challenges our notions of societal acceptability, and in doing so, forces us to examine the level of control society exerts on our behaviors. The urban nude is typically homeless, so perhaps Tunick’s work is a comment on unequal distribution of wealth.

For many, mass public stripping is the ultimate act of rebellion – a collective middle finger to the powers that be. Many of Tunick’s subjects recount that the photo shoot is an extremely liberating experience. For some, he offers the sacred ritual to reclaim their dignity – a dignity lost by rape, perhaps, or by verbal abuse even.

For me, the Event offered the promise of being a part of art history – something that I could brag about for years to follow. But the decision wasn’t easy. For every daring part of me that wanted to do it, there was a modest part that resisted. Was I really that comfortable with my appearance? Would I really be able to strip in front of hundreds – possibly thousands – of others? I had to be prepared for the worst (or best – depending on how you look at it): full oversized frontal nudity adorning some Museum wall.

Having tackled my mental dilemma, I began a rite of physical preparation. At the gym, I would workout just a little bit harder. My diet now consisted of fewer fat and carb calories. There is no better incentive to get in shape than having your picture taken nude. As I mentioned to a colleague at work, “Everything has to be perfect for Spencer.”

I awoke early on June 25th. In actuality, I had barely slept all night. I rode the hotel elevator and braced the crisp morning air as I walked down to the East 9th Street Pier in downtown Cleveland. It was not even 4 am, but already hundreds of participants – of all sizes, shapes and colors - had gathered outside, Model Consent Form in one hand and coffee in the other. Slowly, we were “checked in” and slowly, we assembled on the grass. As the masses continued to pour in, the daunting logistics of pulling off something like this became apparent. Only four portapotties meant an hour’s wait before you could relieve yourself. Where would we disrobe? How would we possibly reunite our naked bodies with the correct garments after the shoot?

At about 6 am, it was starting to get light. Tunick talked to us through a megaphone. “After the initial thrill of being nude,” he said, “you will want me to work quickly. Very quickly.” When my naked flesh met the frigid 50-something degree air and the cool breeze blowing from Lake Erie, I knew what he meant. When my flesh hit the cold pavement and the damp grass, I questioned my decision to do this.

Tunick worked feverishly, yelling out commands to his assistants through his megaphone. He completed some shots atop a 12 meter high scissor lift. Four hours after first reporting at the Pier, we were finally done. I was cold, and my neck was in a spasm. Being a model was hard work for sure. But I was exhilarated.

We made the news across the Globe and – at 2754 participants - broke the North American record for “the largest group of naked people in a photograph”, a distinction previously held by Montreal.

Back at work, my peers were scanning the Web for incriminating pictures. All they came up with was a picture of me naked and supine, albeit strategically cut at chest level. In return for posing, I received an 8 X 10 print from the artist. A personal memento of the art history that I helped create.