Staci Simpson, who helped paint me
devil red last year for Steve Bradford's
Playboy shoot, called Sunday to ask if I wanted to be body-painted for an
underwater video. She was setting a
poem to music for a 30-second art spot to air on commercial TV as an alternative
to the usual consumer conditioning.
That sounded good to me, so despite a lack of sleep and a long sunrise bikeride
to make it back home on time to be picked up by
Carmel, I spent 7 hours this
morning shaving and being covered
with "clothing grade liquid latex"--we couldn't say "paint" because it would
freak out the manager of the condo whose pool we'd be using for the shoot.
It was a hot day, a long drive. How ironic it would have been to suffer a
heat stroke because of the
mandalas which sheathed my skin in an impermeable layer.
The pool was packed, and as soon as we arrived all the children swam over
to the side like curious turtles. The
moment of truth came when we got in, fearing all the while that the latex
would simply dissolve on contact. It didn't. We floated through a surface
roiling with bubbles and smoke (dry ice which Garrett handled with a thick
glove), released flowers underwater, dove and turned flips in the deep end,
and ate sunwarmed
babaganoush when all was done.