Naked Artist

Darcy Schmidt Naked Artist

presents
The NAKED Project
undressing the issues

Diary of a Naked Artist
April 20th, 2002
A stroll through Vancouver's West End, along the sea wall, and past Lost Lagoon.


It's an early morning after a rough night so I do a few quick warm-up poses. It's a demanding crowd out there on the beach so I gotta look my best.			I hook up with my peeps for a stroll about the West End. Just ignore the quarter segment of that dude at the left edge of the picture a he was trying desperately to not be in it at all...		I use the chicks a a kind of shield as we walk 'cause it ain't easy just wearing a jock strap out in public, ya know!		Everyone hangs back from me as we pass this construction zone...

...so that they can discreetly observe the reactions the unsuspecting public has when we pass on the street.				By the time we get to the beach I'm pretty much alone...

		...although there is a camera scoping me out from way back as I frolic on the logs. That's me there in the pink!


I strike out along the path and passers by enjoy the sight of my finely sculpted butt. It's my best ASSet, I tell them, as the atmospheere fills with cat-calls and the like. A chance meeting with some old friends is an unexpected surprise and a pleasant diversion from the day-to-day grind of being naked in public.


After a lively discussion concerning international politics, the current war in (insert country name of your choice here) & where to find the best sushi, I bid my friends adieu and head off once again.			I become fast friends with an artist selling her wares along the path, and she insists I have my photo taken holding one of her paintings. I strike my best "Price is Right" pose and give a big grin for the camera.

She has selected a painting of a zebra because it matches the print on my jock strap. Sexy, eh?


I stop to do some poses along the sea wall and a young woman takes the opportunity to snap my picture. She offers me a large sum of money to show her what is in my "package" but I gratefully decline as I am in a hurry to get out on the beach and anyways it just takes way to long to haul out all three feet of my unit and then try to coax it back in again.

		I am training for the Sun Run so I go for a quick sprint out on the sand while the theme song from "Chariots of Fire" doesn't play in my head since I don't like that kind of music. Then I stop for a brief pause and pose seductively on a rock.

				I stop at the concession at 2nd Beach for a quick snack. A smokie does the trick, and I am instructed to have the end of the dog poke rudely from the bun. The girl behind me pinches my butt. Twice.

		I grab myself a la Michael Jackson for a photo in front of the "Mr. Tube Steak" sign...

		...and then all sorts of people want their picture taken with me so we do a variety of poses. We crowd around afterwards to check out the digital images on the screen. Awesome!

				nature calls...
I pose for more pictures with a variety of people...				...and then slip off to the washroom for a pee break. I only haul out as much as I need to perform this duty since I don't want to attract the kind of attention that Marky Mark does in public restrooms ever since he made "Boogie Nights".

		I stop on a little wooden bridge in Stanley Park. There are a couple of swans going at it over yonder and one of them is all wrapped around the other in a freakish yet enticing manner. I manage to restrain myself from joining in just in case one of them is Zeus.

		A a photo op along side Lost Lagoon is in order. The high rises of the West End make a fairly decent backdrop. I continue along the path towards the causeway and accumulate a little entourage of kids and their parents. Kind of like some crazed pied-piper-ish thing but without the nasty ending.


A horde of little people in the form of some kind of scout troop or something is waiting for me next to the causeway. Their eyes get really big as I approach and they all gravitate towards me and ask a million questions and are absolutely fascinated with my outfit and maybe even think I am some sort of demented super hero. It all gets a bit too much as they start to swarm around me and I have to get outta there. I wave good-bye and wonder what on earth they are going to tell their parents when they get home.

		I head down Georgia Street past an endless stream of cars with honking horns and the sounds of motorists yelling out "Yee-Haw!', "Great Package","Where'd Ya Get That Ass?" and the like. But I don't have time to stop and chat it up with any of them since I am off to the Hyatt to register for tomorrow's Sun Run.		END?

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