In the spring of 2018, my first in my new home in Coastal BC, I was doing a lot of foot work to try and find an appropriate secluded spot in which I could sit and suntan in the nude whenever I got the chance. Wreck Beach in Vancouver was a ferry trip and a bunch of money away so I was limited into how often I could go there. I needed something local, and something that wasn’t too much of a hassle or lengthy trip to get to.
I soon found what, for the next 6 summers, would prove to be the perfect spot. It was a stretch of rocky beach, generally full of driftwood, that stretched for about 600 meters. It was ‘closed off’ at both ends by rocky abutments, and had lush bush that hid it from a trail that ran nearby. If anyone did walk by, which turned out to be incredibly seldom, I usually had ample opportunity to cover up before they had even seen that I was there, and during higher tide, was a wonderful swimming area. It was perfect.
Very soon, it became a home away from home. Over the summers of 2018 and 2019 I became a fixture there, and began to recognize a number of the people that tended to walk that stretch of beach now and then. Most of them wouldn’t even blink an eye at me if I didn’t manage to cover up in time, or were very friendly. I have to note here that this particular spot just happened to be in front of a very large plot of land that was owned and run by a youth camp, that was very active and ran camps quite often. Yet in two summers I didn’t see a single young person, in all the time the camp was being run, and not once did anyone come by to complain, talk to me about it, or say anything. The spot I was in was very far from two main beaches the camp did use, and not many bothered to make the more difficult trek to get there.
In the fall of 2019, the Coronavirus Pandemic hit. This had an impact on my little secluded beach spot in a couple of ways. The first is that I started going there far more often than before, as it became my little getaway from the pressures and challenges of the pandemic and its restrictions. The second is that for 3 summers, it closed down the youth camp. That first part, combined with the second part, caused me to become relaxed, safe and cocky. I began to think of this spot as *mine*, that I had ownership of it, and that I could do with it as I liked. It was generally so quiet and carefree between 2020 and 2022 that I had kind of forgotten that other people really existed.
So with that bit of arrogance I was becoming more bold. I had stopped covering up all the time when people came by, depending on who the people were. I was walking and swimming and strutting around more boldly and further away from my encampment, so to speak. I was listening to loud music on my earbuds, which caused me to become less aware of any presence of others, etc. I had stopped just sunbathing, and had started to proclaim, through my actions, that this little stretch of beach was for nakedness, dammit, and I had a right to it. I had forgotten about respect.
Now, had this been pretty much anywhere else, I don’t think it would be quite the problem that it had the chance of becoming, but you have to remember that this beach spot was out in front of a youth camp. While the camp itself was nowhere near this spot, society does have a tendency to (wrongly, in my not so humble opinion, and I’ve talked about this at length before) freak out a bit at the idea of children seeing naked people, but in the summer of 2022 I didn’t have to worry so much about that.
Yet.
In the summer of 2022, inspiration hit me and I began to do some painting projects at my beach spot. At first it was just on things that I could take with me or hide when I wasn’t there. Walking sticks, found pieces of plywood, etc. For the next little while I’d paint, and then stash these pieces away or take them home with me when I wasn’t there. A practice I probably should have stuck to. Yet, as I’ve said before, I got bold. I began to leave the art up with the intention of giving whoever did walk by a little food for thought. Something to talk about. For a while, it worked fine, with no issues.
In May of 2023, I came down to my spot one day to find all the artwork gone. My immediate thought was that some hooligans or kids had come by, found it offensive or just plain funny to wreck, and had destroyed it. I was incensed, and made a decision right there to start doing artwork on things and in places that random people couldn’t come down and just destroy wantonly.
So I began a project that was going to become a rather large undertaking. I had plans to practically take over that spot with paintings on large, unliftable pieces of driftwood, rock faces and logs, with the idea that I would be showing the world that nudity was good and decent and natural. Again, had this been practically ANYWHERE else, I might still be working on that project.
Enter a couple of weeks later. I was down at the beach spot with a couple of friends when we were approached by an individual that was removing my ‘Clothing Optional Beyond this Point’ signs. He claimed to be working with the youth camp, and that they had been combing the beach areas in front of the camp for dangers, such as broken class, rusty metal, and the like. It was they that had come upon my artwork the couple of weeks prior, and they felt like whoever had done it was trying to establish a permanent nude beach, which they felt was utterly inappropriate. We had a conversation in which I explained that I wasn’t trying to establish a ‘nude beach’. I explained that people very rarely came to this spot, that my signs were temporary and remained only while I did, and that the art was a social commentary. We eventually struck a deal where I would stay away from the beach on the weekends, would be more vigilant covering up when people happened by, and, most importantly, would stop with the artwork.
So, that is what happened for the rest of the summer of 2023. Yet in my mind I had started to realize that, perhaps it was time to actually just move on. By the end of the summer, and over the winter, a number of news items, events and experiences soured me on that beach spot. I wasn’t able to relax there anymore. I felt I needed to be too vigilant, too cautious. My sense of security was gone, and while I still believed and do believe, that there should be no actual reason to stop going there to sunbathe, there is a huge push in society today against nudity in general and nudity when it comes to children in particular. If I was in a better frame of mind, or had more people that were more versed in legalities and studies and activism on my side, I would fight it. Yet I don’t. Activists are few and far between these days, and getting smaller all the time. Lobbyists have became far too powerful, backed my mega-corporations, and are winning battles against activists more than ever. Battles that they have no right winning. Yet here we are.
No, this is not a fight that is worth it for poor little ol’ me. I don’t feel like getting entangled in a battle that would almost certainly go ill for me. I don’t feel like pushing for something that, in the long run, probably just isn’t worth it. So instead I went down yesterday, the day of March 26th 2024, 6 years and some change from the founding of it, and wiped my existence off the face of that beach spot. I took gesso and a paint brush and whitewashed the art. I broke down the poles I had painted on exclaiming that beach to be “Freedom Beach”, and I said goodbye. I got naked one last time for about a half and hour, and then I walked away.
I’ll find somewhere else. I have a couple of ideas in mind. Somewhere that isn’t automatically loaded against me because of society’s outrageous overreactions to nudity and youth. Somewhere I can start new…. And this time, maybe keep it a little more subtle. I’ll save the giant art installations for places I won’t want to go to constantly to sit and get a little sun from time to time, because let me tell you, I’m not completely done protesting.
6 summers of memories can’t be taken from me, but it’s time to say goodbye.