The last time extraordinary photographer Spencer Tunick was in Australia, it was to shoot naked bodies as part of the Melbourne Fringe Festival. It was a freezing 5 degrees and raining outside for the 4am start. Despite registering, I piked-out at the last minute.

So there was no way that I was going to miss out again, especially when this shoot was going to be in one of my favourite cities and in front of one of my favourite, iconic buildings in the world.

I was fortunate enough to meet Tunick in Sydney after an artist talk by Erwin Olaf. He is lovely, upfront and direct. I told him that I am a photographer and that he was the reason that I was in Sydney. He expressed how excited he was about doing the shoot in Sydney, how much he enjoyed the energy of Mardi Gras and how, as the days grew closer, he was getting more and more into work mode. He suggested that I should come earlier than the call time suggested, so that I could have a look around. “Trust me,” he said.

2:30am

It’s 2:30am and 18 degrees on a slightly chilly Sydney morning. It’s dark, and the last time I was up this early, I was off my head at a club. Three friends and I are just waking up and preparing to participate in a historic moment, as photographer Spencer Tunick photographs thousands of naked people at the Opera House as part of Mardi Gras. I’ve been looking forward to this for months, and it’s the main reason that I’m in Sydney.

I check my phone and there are a stack of messages on it from friends and internationals who are in town for Mardi Gras. I mentioned the Spencer Tunick shoot to them, and after some overnight deliberation, they tell me via the magic of text, that they are going to be participating too. I can’t help but smile. Bleary eyed and half asleep, we shower, coffee up and get all our smutty naked jokes out of our system before we head off. You know, the usual stuff about shrinkage and perving. So juvenile! We hail a cab from Broadway and we are on our way.

3:30am

It’s just after 3:30am and the taxi arrives 300 meters away from the Sydney Opera house forecourt. “What’s going on here? It’s never this busy around here at this time of day?” the cab driver asks. There is so much traffic in the area from all those heading in that it’s simply not possible to get any closer, so we get out and walk up to the registration point. There are stacks of people heading in the same direction. It’s still dark and there is already a queue of hundreds of people that stretches for over a kilometre from the scene of the shoot, and it’s growing by the second. We walk all the way along the queue and get in line ourselves.

We check out all the different kinds of people who have come along to participate. There are gaggles of gays and lesbians, single travelers, lots of couples of every gender and sexuality. From tall to short, fat to thin – the body types were diverse. While the majority of those attending were fair skinned, there were a number of different races encompassed in the mix. Some have come straight from a night out.

“Darrrrling! I’m still a bit pissed but there was no way I was missing this,” one punter slurred loudly as he hugged his friends.

4:05am

The line finally moves and we get to the entrance of the forecourt. As we get there, we hand in our registration forms, and get handed a clear plastic bag to put our clothes in. So far it feels like we are heading into an underwear party, and we all have a quiet giggle about it. We also get offered the opportunity to pose for some additional photos that Tunick is taking inside the Opera House after the 9am finish, in the magnificent concert hall. We are all excited and jump at the chance to do more and take the ticket.

From here on in it’s a waiting game. We are all squashed together into the holding space, and people sit down and make themselves as comfortable as they can. People chat, and others look for their friends. Some find a corner and have a quiet nap till it’s call time.

My friends and I take turns going for smoke, coffee and toilet breaks. There is a definite buzz in the air, and those amongst us with fears and anxieties about being a part of the experience say that they are now thrilled to be there.

I bump into my friend Simon, a German-Swiss guy who I met a couple of nights before. I told him about the event and he said he was interested, but needed to think about it. Then this morning I got a text from him saying that he was on his way.

“It was really tough for me. I had a hot boy in bed, he didn’t want to come along and it was cold and early in the morning. I almost changed my mind and didn’t come, but I’m so glad I did. This is amazing.” Simon told me.

5:35am

Steve and Johnny are the two event managers who are helping Tunick get the crowd together. They appear at the top of the stairs and brief the waiting crowd about what will happen in the coming hours. They have a laugh and a joke and get a bit of heckling from some in the crowd who ask why they have their clothes on. They tell us we are just half an hour away from disrobing and introduce Spencer Tunick to the crowd, who erupt in applause.

“I’ve always wanted to photograph here at the Sydney Opera House, and I’m so grateful to New Mardi Gras, the Sydney Opera House and you for making this possible. This is a very special photoshoot for me and the most weird.

“All of you have come together here at this gay event. I applaud the straight people who have joined us at this event. I applaud all of you whether you are gay, lesbian, transgender or straight. You have come together to make this possible. Thank you, Thank you. We have 500 more people than the last time I was in Australia. Let’s make something amazing,” Tunick said to the crowd.

I remember thinking how grateful I was to New Mardi Gras for organising such an amazing event that brought together everyone in the spirit of understanding, creativity and fun. I’m glad it was organised by a queer organisation rather than simply an arts festival. Only at Mardi Gras!

6:15am

There is finally some light in the sky, but still no sign of the sun. Steve is on the megaphone and after the long wait it’s finally time to get naked. Everyone gets excited as we can see the group of people by the botanical gardens getting naked. The colour and variety of clothing quickly vanishes and becomes a sea of largely pink flesh. The energy around us all suddenly charges up as the clothes come off. Some people are naked in a record instant, while others take their time and strip systematically. All clothes are put away into the given bags, and we all notice a layer of our identity stripped away. Hooray! No shrinkage… yet! The feeling of self consciousness disappears within minutes, overtaken by the sense of awe in the spectacle of the mass of flesh. The crowd cheers as we are ushered up the stairs of the Opera House to take our positions for the first installation.

It feels like there are at least 4 to 5 thousand people present and they all feature in the first installation set-ups. Getting the spacing right was the first challenge for Spencer Tunick, and we spent a fair amount of those initial moments trying to move into the arrangements that he wanted. He is very precise, a perfectionist. Every now and then a huge gust of wind hurls by. You could hear it coming as the crowd ‘oooed’ on its approach. People initiated Mexican waves and mass thigh, or cheek, slapping for entertainment as we waited.

The sun is still not in the sky, but it is full of light. For the first time since we started, we can all see each other clearly. As we wait for the final pose instructions we all look around and notice the amazing diversity of the human body. From tattoos and piercings, to the shapes of breasts and bums, to hair cuts and penises, there was a fascinating variety present. People looked at each other with a sense of fascination and wonder, rather than anything even vaguely lustful or erotic. It felt like those notions were left behind in the plastic bags with our clothes.

6:50am

We are all in position for the first shot, and the sky is full of light behind the overcast clouds. My friends and I have an amazing position – front and center. While we are not all together in a line, I can look around and see them all around me, along with other friends who have joined the event, and strangers who are just as happy to be there. My partner Elton and besty Ross are behind me, and my besty Brian is just in front of me. I can see photographer Rod Spark and his partner David naked amongst the crowd, photographer Morgan Carpenter and a group of his buddies, Lex Coleman and Robert, Mike with his full body tattooed by artist Ex de Medici, and Dean Pearce from Demon Leather. I start to look around at some very hot guys around in the vicinity too. Grrr.

The media have all gathered in the media pit and flashes are going off. Cameras are zooming in and out and Press helicopters are circling above like vultures preparing to feed on the flesh below. The Channel 9 copter hovers the lowest, surely getting in the way of Tunicks shot momentarily. Grant Denyer from Channel Seven’s morning show suddenly strips off and joins the mass nakedness for a photo opportunity and a live cross to the show, and the crowd goes wild. The scene looks amazing. There is a sense of history about what we are a part of.

The first set up is a pink triangle of flesh on the steps of the Opera House. How wonderfully queer, full of meaning and in the theme of Mardi Gras. Go Spencer! We stop occasionally as birds and helicopters fly past.

At one point we are all asked to lie down on the concrete, slightly on top of each other. It’s cold and rough, but looks amazing. One of the final shots involves couples embracing and kissing, with the artist calling on all couples present, regardless of gender and sexuality to passionately engage with each other. Strangers were also asked to participate, in varying degrees to suit personal comfort, with most choosing cheek to cheek.

I was with my boyfriend Elton, so it was pretty easy for us. He started to bone up as we kissed, which gave all of us a giggle. Some of my friends found some rather handsome strangers to be in the pose with. One friend in particular came back with a big grin and a phone number at the end of the event, after meeting a 6’4 French man on holiday for Mardi Gras. Tramp.

9:00am

All the set-ups for the Opera House forecourt steps are over. Most get their clothes and head into the gardens for the final installation. Those with passes for the Concert hall photos are instructed to pick up the bags with their clothes and head into the hall, taking up the seats on their given ticket. We are handed another plastic bag, which we are told to place on the seat before we sit on them. How sensible.

I’ve seen the Sydney Opera House many times from the outside, but I’ve never been inside. It feels amazing and quite subversive walking through the Opera House naked, and I cannot believe that is my first experience of actually being inside the building. In fact, it’s the first time for all of my friends, and also for many people we chat to on the way in.

We enter the concert hall and everyone takes a seat and any empty seats are filled with people from the garden. The stage is covered in people, some of whom are lying down and having a brief rest before the next round of photos. I look around and it is as if we are all looking down on some bizarre stage show. Every now and then someone will act up and do a hand stand or dance around, and the crowd cheers.

The entire concert hall is full, and it seems that most of its lush interior is now covered in skin. Some of the people have put some of their clothes on to keep warm, and they are told to disrobe for the photographs about to be taken. The first photos are pretty easy. Everyone is seated in their seats and told to look in certain directions. Only the people on stage are told to lie down flat.

Then things got increasingly tricky, as we were asked to stand and balance on the self folding seats. Surprisingly, no one fell, and everyone supported each other. Finally everyone is twisted into slightly painful positions, and they are getting frustrated and angry with those that are clearly not co-operating. Though I sneak a peek and it looks amazing. It appears that everyone in the theatre has suddenly and violently died but the cause of their death is a mystery. “Wow, that looks amazing you guys! Hold it… that looks weird. I love that!” Tunick says. But staying in those positions really hurts. Tensions slowly get higher with both the crowd and the photographer, as some people do not co-operate.

“Can everyone please put away your iPhones and phone cameras. We are doing the shot now. Please respect the other people around you and me. Please I need your help here… And those with clothes on and jewellery, please take them off… we can not continue if you keep them on.”

Despite being told time and time again, some people keep their clothes on. A woman has a lime green towel wrapped around her, and another man has a t-shirt on. The crowd finally had enough and singled out those that were not co-operating, yelling them into submission.

Another man, positioned front and center of the stage insisted on posing by flashing his bum directly to camera with his legs up. Despite being told by Tunick that the pose was not respectful and asked kindly if he could change it, he remained in his chosen position. Tunick respectfully called for his ejection. The entire crowd is silent. Once people realised that he meant business, the trouble makers settled down. Within 20 minutes, all the concert hall shoots were done.

“Thank you so much everyone! You’ve helped make a dream come true for me today. I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This has been a very special shoot for me.” Spencer said in closing.

10:30am

People have dispersed as quickly as they arrived from the Opera House. Me and my friends head off for breakfast and talk about the amazing event that we have all just partaken in. It was so enjoyable and captivating that we all expressed how sad we were it came to an end. We talk about seeing it on the news tonight, and how we all can’t wait to see the final photographs.