A bodybuilder spends gym time shaping his or her body into a work of art. The bodybuilder shapes his physique, just the way a sculptor chips away at marble to turn stone into perfect form.

A few months ago we received a telephone call from a friend of a friend, mentioning an occasion several years ago in Oakland's "Grafitti Heaven" when I had met the original friend and his accomplices as they were painting grafitti on a warehouse wall. "Grafitti Heaven" consists of a vast stretch of warehouse walls three or four city blocks long, an extent of blank walls just crying out to be covered with design. We've used this mother lode of design as backdrops during many a photo shoot. You've probably seen some of the results in our photo feature Against the Wall.

My friend's friend told me of the opening of an art gallery called "The Labyrinth" that would be taking place in about 10 days. It would consist of massive constructions built inside a warehouse, a maze of textiles, wood, and rope that visitors, expected to number over 500 people, would thread their way through to view the artwork while making their viewing "an experience." He wondered if it would be possible to stage "a performance art piece of a bodybuilder wandering through this, flexing and generally looking good, with a photographer taking photos of the bodybuilder as this happened." Among other things, the opening would be a sort of party. Why the hell not? I wondered.

The first bodybuilder I called was Anthony Marmon. Anthony would be ideal for such a project. While not in contest shape at the moment, he is an advanced bodybuilder, with a genial personality that wouldn't seem threatening to anyone, and he has the kind of sense of humor that wouldn't take the event too seriously. Just the man for the job.

Two weeks before the opening, it had already been covered by the local press. We visited the warehouse several times before the actual event. Three or four people had been working nearly full time for weeks, and were still actively putting things—the maze, the corridors, the tree house, the stick jungle—together.

People would wind their way through these constructions, sometimes literally crawling on all fours through a series of tentlike cloth constructions. They would wend their way through a forest of sharpened stick-strees, explore a tree house built sturdily among the rafters, and examine all kinds of wall paintings and sculptures as they progressed. There was no single path through all of this. There were many. And several bands would be placed throughout. Anthony and his photographer would move through the crowd, eliciting reactions, taking photos with people, and enjoying the general ambiance or amazement. After all, not many people in the crowd would ever have seen anyone as built and healthy-looking as Anthony, probably none of them close up.

And here are shots of the actual event. We were told afterwards that Anthony's appearance was the hit of the evening, more so than the band playing a single 20-minute note (a sort of muscial ommmmmmm that must have meant something to someone, but that left a lot of people puzzled), moreso than the shoes glued to the wall, the paintings reminiscent of Australian Aboriginal artwork and Japanese prints, more so than the cardboard and wood corridors so narrow that two people couldn't walk side-by-side, more so than the hidden doors you needed to know existed before you were likely to find them.

Yes, Anthony was the greatest sculpture at the opening. Even when not in his best condition (he's currently training under the supervision of training guru Charles Glass and preparing for the 2005 Nationals), he looks better than a lot of competitive. bodybuilders do at showtime.

So here is Anthony Marmon flexing for Lobot Gallery's opening display of "The Labyrinth."