Bob was girl crazy. And neither of us had ever traveled to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida for spring break. So in 1979 we grabbed our camping gear and cameras and headed south from Evansville, Indiana. Two nights later under a clear, moon lit sky while playing my guitar next to a glowing campfire, Bob scurried over out of breath, "Bill, grab your camera! There's a wet T-shirt contest going on in the woods." On arriving at what appeared to be a fraternity-sponsored event, Bob immediately raised his enthusiastic hand to participate. The cameras flashed in the night.
Years later, after breaking up from a painful relationship, I felt compelled to paint my anger. Finding these old slides from the wet T-shirt contest I thought I'd shock all my feminist friends with this male chauvinist image.
Well, to my surprise, it had the opposite reaction. Everyone thought it to be just great fun from a by-gone time of sexual freedom, streaking, and partying. In fact it is wife, Caryl's favorite painting. "You know they're all middle aged mothers living in the Midwest now!" she quips.
