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Naturism
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Naturism
Naturist beaches
1970s
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Country House offers naturists a way to air all.
News reporters Tony and Sally Adams visit a nudist centre at a country hotel in South Devon. The beach at Slapton Sands Nature Reserve and nearby Pilchard Cove have been frequented by nudist bathers for decades. Naturists advocate acceptance of social nudity and enjoy embracing the great outdoors through walking in the woods, relaxing on the beach, swimming in the pool and nude sea bathing. Locals turn a blindish eye and maintain that there is nothing wrong with nudism.
In 1970 International Naturist Federation held its annual congress in Britain. The first annual naturist world congress was held in London in 1951 although the International Naturist Federation (INF) was officially founded in 1953 in Montalivet in France. British Naturism can trace its origins back to 1891 and the Fellowship for the Naked Trust in British India. In 1922 the English Gymnosophical Society was formed based on the work into naturism of Harold Booth. The British Sun Bathers Association (BSBA) of 1943 and the Federation of British Sun Clubs (FBSC) of 1953 merged to form the Central Council for British Naturism (CCBN) in 1964 which officially became British Naturism in 2009.
Amateur film 1966 18 mins Silent
Location: Derby
Nostalgic snapshot of the town of Derby in the mid 1960s.
Amateur film 1964 12 mins
Location: Pontarddulais
“It would be difficult to find a more lovely train journey”, declares Swansea’s Librarian, the film-maker and narrator. Prepare to be beguiled, station by station.
Non-Fiction 1976 23 mins Silent
Location: Leeds
Back to the bad old days of skinners, as worn by these Man. United troublemakers, being escorted by police dogs along that perilous walk from Elland Road to Leeds railway station.
Amateur film 1976 9 mins
Location: Kingston Upon Thames
An amatuer filmmaker takes a critical and somewhat tongue-in-cheek look at the changing face of Kingston upon Thames
We Do What We Can is a film that looks at one of the miracles in the journey of diaspora Africans.
Documentary 2021 13 mins
A poetic response to the experience of the Coronavirus pandemic, drawing on the collections of 12 UK film archives.
Current affairs 1977 13 mins
Location: Bath
A special report looks into the preparations for the Queen’s Silver Jubilee and her subsequent tour of the South West.
Non-Fiction 1935 3 mins
Location: Devon
Talented women become mistresses of the skies.
Advert 1967 2 mins
Location: Devon
Mrs Cross takes the Daz test but what will the outcome be?
News 1986 52 mins
Location: Plymouth
This documentary charts the progress and challenges of disabled people living in the community.
News 1976 45 mins
Location: Plymouth
The TV cameras return to Downham School to see what has changed for disabled children since 1966.
News 1963 1 mins
Location: Devon
Responses to questions about dressing to please are of their day.
Animation & Artists Moving Image 1993 18 mins
A saxophonist assembles her instrument while a woman eats oysters and removes tidal debris from her body in artist Jayne Parker's short film.
Comedy 1919 67 mins Silent
A single girl, goaded by her fellow boarding-house residents, pretends to be engaged to a charming officer.
Industry sponsored film 1954 37 mins
A promotional film documenting the design, assembly and maintenance of a conveyor system in a West Yorkshire coal mine.
Comedy 1922 39 mins Silent
The story of a young man's embarrassing encounter with a young lady's woollen undergarment at the theatre.
Comedy 1924 30 mins
Delightful adaptation of a sailor’s yarn starring the irrepressible Florence Turner and pre-John Ford Victor McLaglen, with novel illustrated inter-titles.
Arkita believes herself to be be modern, liberal and independent. An unprecedented encounter with a transgender sex worker questions her beliefs.
The South West Film and Television Archive (SWFTA) is the regional film archive for the South West of England. Established in 1993, SWFTA's core collection comprises of the combined programme libraries of Westward Television and TSW (Television South West). The archive also cares for a significant number of donated film collections, both amateur and professional, dating back to the early 1900s.
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Welcome to California's Esalen Institute, the Susan Sontag-approved retreat that'll transform your entire worldview. Once you get into your birthday suit.
Each Zodiac Sign's Unique Personality Traits
Megan Thee Stallion Just Helped Me Pick My Halloween Nails
Sha'Carri Richardson Wins Even While Running in Stilettos (Nails)
Each Zodiac Sign's Unique Personality Traits
Megan Thee Stallion Just Helped Me Pick My Halloween Nails
Sha'Carri Richardson Wins Even While Running in Stilettos (Nails)
Each Zodiac Sign's Unique Personality Traits
Megan Thee Stallion Just Helped Me Pick My Halloween Nails
Sha'Carri Richardson Wins Even While Running in Stilettos (Nails)
Each Zodiac Sign's Unique Personality Traits
Megan Thee Stallion Just Helped Me Pick My Halloween Nails
Sha'Carri Richardson Wins Even While Running in Stilettos (Nails)
Each Zodiac Sign's Unique Personality Traits
Megan Thee Stallion Just Helped Me Pick My Halloween Nails
Sha'Carri Richardson Wins Even While Running in Stilettos (Nails)
Each Zodiac Sign's Unique Personality Traits
Megan Thee Stallion Just Helped Me Pick My Halloween Nails
Sha'Carri Richardson Wins Even While Running in Stilettos (Nails)
Brennan Kilbane is a former senior writer for Allure . Previously, he served as an assistant editor at Glossier. His writing has been published in The New York Times , the Verge, and GQ . If he could trade makeup bags with anyone in the world, he would choose Amy Sedaris.
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Each and every pore on my body is flexed shut. My anatomy — I’ll spare you the details — is visibly cold. I had thought November would be a mild month for Big Sur, California, and I was only half right: It was a beautiful and warm day to be naked outdoors among strangers, but by nightfall, freezing winds are blowing over the Pacific and into my bloodstream. Then I plunge my body into a hot mineral bath, and every cell in my body sighs.
This is hour seven at the Esalen Institute , where I’ve elected to spend the weekend in the hopes of shedding inhibitions, self-consciousness, and clothing for a few days of totally nude R&R. (Vacations are a lot less stressful when you’re not responsible for a beach bag.) I’m also devoting a total of nine and a half hours to unguarded self work with 30 strangers and two professionals who are also strangers. Annoyingly, I’m calling this “emotional nudity.” Do you get it? There is basically one place on earth that asks you politely to share your innermost thoughts and feelings and fears and insecurities with a group of people you have never met before, and, yeah, if you use the pool or baths, would you mind also not wearing clothes? Thank you so much. Welcome to Esalen.
Protected by a menacing stretch of cliff and a BY RESERVATION ONLY sign, the Esalen Institute has been welcoming guests at or after their designated arrival time since 1962. (If you arrive early, you will be asked to check in later. If you ask where in the area you can stop and maybe get lunch, the parking attendant will laugh.) It was founded by Michael Murphy and Dick Price, Stanford grads who were inspired by studies of higher health and peak experiences, and on Murphy’s family land, which boasted healing hot springs and arresting views of the Pacific. In the last half-century, Esalen has developed a luminous alumni list — Henry Miller, Joan Baez, Aldous Huxley, and Joni Mitchell, among others. To this day, it may be the only thing that Susan Sontag and Deepak Chopra have in common.
Esalen cultivates a kind of cultish mystique. Mentioning the institute prompts one of two responses from people: effusive acclaim or furrowed skepticism. Esalen featured prominently in the Human Potential Movement of the 1960s, a belief system focused on inner development (one that middle-aged men still employ today as an argument for swinging). The finale of Mad Men famously referenced the institute: Don Draper attends a workshop during a personal crisis and finds wholeness — along with an idea for a Coca-Cola ad. While the 1960s Esalen was extremely bohemian, the Esalen of today has modernized a bit. It has a cash bar and a Wi-Fi hookup (except during mealtimes). And last November, briefly, it had me.
My fear was that it was going to be, um, enlightened. When I arrived on Friday afternoon, my fear began, borrowing an Esalen term, to manifest: The first person I encountered, who checked in my car, was wearing a Sublime T-shirt. The second person I encountered, who checked in me, was an extremely kind white woman with a bouquet of blonde locs. What do you call those midcalf-length pants that are jersey and usually paisley, and you can only buy them at head shops? I saw 40 pairs that afternoon. My jeans and sweater felt like a tuxedo. For a miserable four hours, I was convinced I had made a terrible mistake.
Then everybody else showed up. Businessmen barking their last business commands into FaceTime Audio calls (the campus has very spotty cell service), yogis wearing beanies, thoroughly bleached women wearing expensive premium sportswear, a haggard couple who, I’m not joking, arrived in a yellow Volkswagen minibus. One by one they spilled out over the grounds, which are, I cannot say it enough: stunning. Esalen is verdant — everything within campus limits is remarkably green, thanks in part to a sustainable irrigation plan that involves processing laundry water. The lodging is rustic with comfortable flourishes, like soft duvets and hotel furniture. Everything smells vaguely of lavender oil.
My assigned roommate, James the nurse, is instantly my best friend. We are inseparable for two hours, until he goes to his workshop (“Esalen Massage: The Basics”) and leaves me. When he comes back to our room, an hour after I have already been here waiting for him , I furiously interrogate him about his whereabouts.
James, revealing himself to be a pathological liar, is no longer my best friend. Bonds are forged and destroyed at breakneck speed here.
My workshop, “A Different Perspective: Reframe Your Life Using Play, Embodiment, and Humor,” begins at 8 p.m., but I arrive early. Most of the conversation I overhear is from people who have already been here, who would love to give you, verbally and specifically, an itemized list of the last times they were here, plus other details that are riveting. Before one of my workshops, two Esalen regulars animatedly argue about which side of the room the instructors will instruct from. “A month ago, they started there,” one says, pointing to the southernmost corner of the room. The opposing counsel shakes her head. “It’s over there,” she insists, gesturing to the door. “I know. I’ve been coming here for years.” This goes on for 15 minutes, which only seems like a short period of time.
Then it begins. “What we discuss in the seminar must stay in the seminar.”
By 10 p.m., after hours of [ redacted ], the workshop lets out. Some seminarians head to bed. Since the mineral baths are open 24 hours, I break off, hoping to bathe under the stars. This is where the nakedness starts.
During the day, you can see clear over the sweeping grounds to where the mineral baths are, and if you squint, you can make out a spectrum of flesh-colored sunbathers on the edge of California. At night, you cannot see a sumo wrestler painted neon: The grounds are entirely dark, peppered with lamps that are a mean joke. It takes 15 minutes to walk across campus, but I spent nearly 40 ambling through the pitch. I consider returning to bed, but I remember my editor’s advice — “Man up and drop trou.” Plus, I want James to think I am cool. After journeying for all of night, I reach the baths. Reader, I d
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