Being a Wave in The Sea of Hull

Around four weeks ago, I took part in Spencer Tunick's photography installation 'Sea Of Hull', which involved thousands of people agreeing to get up at 2am, get naked, and paint themselves blue for a series of photographs commissioned by Hull's City of Culture and the Ferens Art Gallery in Hull. This is my experience of that day.

As someone very much lacking in self-confidence, it might seem strange that I signed up for this event; I think it was something to do with turning 40 this year and wanting to be braver, and have new experiences. And despite my worries about it, I am so very glad that I did. It was a unique experience: liberating, interesting, and for me, full of insight into humanity.

The day started before the previous one had ended. Setting my alarm for 1.30am, I knew I wouldn't get much sleep. In fact, no sleep was had. I walked up to the site at 2.30am with a friend, strange to see the revellers from the night before blindly ordering kebabs and taxis when we were walking into the unknown in the dark.

As the site started to fill, my friend, a naturally sociable and gregarious man started chatting with the other participants, as there was a very long wait for everyone to arrive, register, and receive their pot of blue body paint. Looking around, I was surprised to see the variation in people who were there – most of them were older, and many different body shapes and sizes. I suppose I had naïvely assumed that only younger, more confident people would attend, and this was my first lesson of the day: with age, comes confidence, an ability to care less about what others think, and a kind of bravery.

As the park where we were waiting started to fill, it became clear that this was a very full event. (In the end, the numbers were reported at 3,200 participants.) From here it was very regimented, with strict instructions not to start getting naked or painting ourselves until the signal was given. And once it was, finally given, we had just three minutes to disrobe and paint ourselves. This seemed like a very short amount of time, but looking back this was probably deliberate – it gave no time for modesty or embarrassment, just a Quick! Whip off your clothes and start painting. I looked up at one point in the middle of taking something off and the sudden sight of over 3,000 people mostly naked and half blue was so bizzare I had to stifle the urge to laugh – but it was oddly joyful.

By this time we were in a group of people we'd been talking to, including some people who'd attended by themselves, which I thought was brave. The pairs of friends in the group could help each other paint the hard-to-reach places, but people helped those who'd come on their own, and it's strange how quickly the mind adapts to the oddest situations. I didn't once think “Here I am, naked and putting blue paint onto a stranger's back”, it was simply a job that had to be done in the moment.

Now naked and blue, we made our way to the site of the first shoot. Having such a variety of ages and bodies around made me feel OK about my own form. Actually, I thought my body was pretty normal, fairly average. This was lesson number two: We really don't see 'normal' or 'average' represented in the media, particularly in advertising at all. And this can affect those of us with poor self image – more than we consciously realise. I have scars all over my body. I have fat in strange places. I have a baby belly. I have stretchmarks that could line the Sistine Chapel. And you know what? So do others. And that's OK. In fact, it's more than OK. Everyone there was beautiful.

We moved on to the site of the second picture – the shoot on Hull's Parliament Street that was reproduced in many of the media stories about the event. This was a long shoot with multiple poses, includ​​ing standing and lying down. My friend and I were close to some people who used wheelchairs, and they were having difficulty with both the standing and lying poses, but I salute their bravery and determination in trying to manoeuvre themselves into the right poses. I think it was painful for them. My friend, who has a big heart, held the hand of one lady who was struggling to stand, and there was a moment of comedy, when he said to her 'Be careful where you grab, now!'. All around me, people were helping others who were tired, sore, or less able to stand or move. Lesson number three. Humanity is often kind.

This being the longest part of the morning's shoot, and some of the participants being taken off to do a separate, shorter shoot at this time, there was a lot of waiting about at this point. People were starting to get cold, and there was a lot of spontaneous activity – we sang, we danced, we clapped, there was an enormous blue Mexican wave that swept the length and breadth of Parliament street that must have looked pretty epic from above. We did this to keep our spirits up and keep warm, and it was impulsive and joyful.

Earlier in the day, we'd all been given one of four different colours of body paint on registering – B (standing for 'Blue')1, B2, B3 or B4. You knew what colour and number you were, and Spencer Tunick often directed the groups to mix or separate. The idea being to replicate the colours of a sea, and the colours were taken from some of the blues represented in Maritime art in Hull. However, people having been divided into distinct groups with a named identity, some interesting 'in/out' behaviour started to peep through. I overheard people saying how their colour was the best, their group was the best, other colours weren't so good, or weren't so good at posing or behaving. At one point as we were being separated into colour strands, a random colour got into the wrong group and he was shouted out and shouted down by the rest of that group. This was done jovially and jokingly, but it was interesting insight into group and tribal behaviours, and very much put me in mind of the 'Blue eyes brown eyes' experiment. Lesson number four: Humanity may be wonderful, but it has a tendency to divide and tribalise.

As we moved onto the third location, which was a meeting point of several streets, it got colder, with the wind blowing straight across from our Estuary. Spirits were high though, mischievous even, with participants calling out the American Spencer in unison when he mispronounced 'Guildhall', and everytime he called for his assistant Steve, the crowd would echo 'Steeeeeeeve'. Which was funny, as a participant, but I did wonder at the time if it would have been irritating for the photographer. I suppose Spencer must be used to crowd control, but wondered if it was part of the Hull Spirit to be quite so rebellious and mischievous.

But there weren't just Hull people in the crowd, and in fact, throughout the day I was surprised how many people had come to take part in the event from across the UK and the world. I heard people behind me asking about Hull's white phone boxes, and saying how nice they thought the city was. I heard different accents and languages; a truly international event for our City of Culture.

The final shoot location was the new (ish) swing bridge on Scale Lane. By this time we were cold and tired, and still naked and blue, the asphalt surface of the Scale Lane Bridge was hard and painful for our bare feet. We were on the bridge - with the winds whipping straight across the brown mud of the River Hull. Each move was agony for the feet, the wind was biting, and as we patiently and painfully stood, we saw Spencer high up in the top window of the new Premier Inn. It was still early morning, and various hotel guests in rooms below Spencer and his camera began, yawning, to open their curtains...to be greeted by the sight of hundreds of naked blue people below them. It must have been a truly surreal morning sight, and I wonder if some of the guests thought they might be still dreaming.

Finally the shoot was over, and a cheer went up from the blue crowd; our paint was by this time flaking off, but we were probably blue anyway. Kind volunteers approached with paper HazMat suits and flip flops – never has a paper suit and cheap flip flops felt so warming and comforting. Then it was back to the park where we started to collect our belongings and dress. My friend and I, now dressed, made our way into town to get a coffee, and then a bus home. We must have looked a startling sight to those ordinary people of Hull just starting out on their day: otherwise normally dressed completely blue people sitting on a bus trying to look inconspicuous but failing. At home, in a very blue bath, (Lesson five: It takes days to fully remove blue body paint) I reflected on my experience. It felt like an enormously positive thing to have done. Despite my observations about in/out behaviors, it was very equalising – everyone there was the same. The kindness and positivity shown on the day from the participants was both humbling and uplifting. I can see how it's addictive – some people follow Spencer around the world to take part, and I would love to do another. The nudity was also oddly liberating – I am in no way, and nor will I ever be a naturist – I'm still just not comfortable enough in my own skin, but the experience of seeing other, perfectly ordinary naked people in an entirely non sexual setting was both life and self-affirming.

I signed up to take part in 'Sea of Hull' to challenge myself, to be brave, and to get one of the limited edition prints of the shoot which all participants receive. I found I got a thoroughly positive and unforgettable experience. I've heard other participants say it was life changing, and I can see why. Although it wasn't quite life changing for me, it certainly made a positive impact on my life and who I am.

B3. Blue face in a blue crowd. Sea of Hull.

Images on this blog taken from various media outlets. If you see your photograph here and would like it crediting or removed, please use the contact me page to let me know.