If you know, you know. The space is for everyone, and for total bodily freedom. The anti–Gansevoort, the evil twin, a beach for a different kind of public. A machine for sun.
To put a nude beach in the middle of the most densely populated city in America, who can go and what can be seen become the defining problems. The linear axis of Christopher Street splinters and turns, creating the beach and and the walls that obscure it from view. Showers and bathrooms are inside the thick walls around the beach. Spaces get smaller and more private further from the shore, from volleyball and parties on the main beach to solitary tanning in suncatchers on the far walk. The beach cannot be seen from Manhattan– the beach isn’t a tourist stop.
The act of walking into the space is a decision in itself, and the moment of discovery– turning the corner and discovering you’ve arrived at a nude beach– is the defining threshold of the proposal. The choice to enter, or to keep walking and exit directly onto Christopher street pier. The beach has no barriers to entry; public space for intimate, private life.
