Gallery Two

The Swimmer

This painting is dedicated to my father. When I was a boy, our family took camping trips all over America. We would pull the boat to a lake, set up the tents and collect firewood for the first night campfire.

My father always had this same ghost story (even though he changed it up from lake to lake). He would gather us around when it was dark and dramatically tell the story about a young couple who had just gotten married that day and were rowing a small boat under the moonlight when a storm suddenly appeared. The boat capsized and the young groom tried and tried to find his bride, but he never found her or ever saw her again.

The old folks around the small lake town will tell you that sometimes, late at night, on a foggy rainy night, some people can see her walking across the lake on top of the water — looking for her groom. Sometimes she is seen in the middle of a dark dirt road, and sometimes she will get a ride up to the main road; but strangely, as the man stops at the main road and looks in the back seat, she has gone — she has vanished and only a wet spot on the seat remains!

My dad used to scare us with that story EVERY trip, and looking back, I remember my dad fondly and how much he loved us.