Night Swimming

July 1993. After working 2nd shift at a cheese factory my good friend Jeff and I decided to drive forty-five minutes to Lake Michigan for a late night swim.  We parked at the dead end where Riley Street terminates and walked the short wooded trail leading to a steep sandy decline to the shore. We ignored the signage which forbade public usage after nightfall. The only swim suit I had was a blue speedo left over from my days as a high school springboard diver. It feels so much nicer in the water than the standard swim shorts, but awkward and revealing - not a problem at 2 AM on a deserted beach. The small whitecaps broke against the packed sandy shore. We enjoyed our swim in the refreshing breeze. The immersive sound of water bubbling and forming suction in the ear canal - released into the static of surf and wind-rattled poplars. Overlapping rhythms of deep blue and black, moonlit reflections and liquid ever-changing patterns. We finished our swim and were toweling off in a joyous rapture when we saw two flashlight beams sprinting down the hill, POLICE! We ran. The police had no chance. We sprinted down the margin of packed sand along the water's edge. I accidentally dropped my towel. Jeff decided to circle back to the car and I started walking toward his family's house thinking it better to abandon the vehicle for the night. Dressed only in my blue speedo in the bushes every time a car passed.  I made the painting with this experience in mind 25 years later in 2018.