It wasn't until the mid eighties that I started travelling abroad specifically to take naturist photographs. Arnaoutchot became a favourite location. I've lost count of the number of times I've been there. It's a naturist photographer's dream with the crashing Atlantic surf, the picturesque rolling sand dunes and the sweet smelling pines providing a haven for deer, squirrel and all manner of birds. And, of course, the sun sets over the sea to the West producing wonderful crimson back clothes at the end of the day. 1989 saw me looking at ways of extending my creative horizons.