Getting nude for art

At the Big Chill festival last weekend I got the chance to get my kit off in the warm early morning sunshine with a fieldful of friendly strangers. Here we are (courtesy of someone from the Metro, spying on us from the other side of the pond) being obedient while the artist Spencer Tunick bellows at us through a loudspeaker from his cherrypicker.

Classic moments from the day:

1. Painty apartheid when a black nude wanders into our yellow camp and is roundly sent off with cries of ‘Get back to your own kind!’

2. Like naughty children some people at the front of the Yves Kline Blue stripe start singing ‘I can sing a rainbow’, and we all join in

3. A continuous stream of painted people in the showers, scrubbing themselves cleaner than anyone has ever been in the history of the third day of a festival

4. Sunday evening, and a small organic gathering of the last still-painted folk takes place in the middle of the chilled-out audience at the main stage