Colombian Consulate

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

After driving to Alligator Alcatraz for the first time, Stella P. Arbelaéz Tascón wanted to pick up her Colombian National ID at the Colombian Consulate (280 Aragón Avenue, Coral Gables FL.) It was a quick drive across the state. The building with its Mediterranean Revival architecture blends well into the very posh neighborhood.

Walking to the consulate we passed a Pilates class and the Coral Gables Museum. A group of woman still in their tight exercise leotards must have just left the class as they passed me as I setting up my art stool in front of the Museum.  It was very early, and the museum was closed, so I was less concerned about a museum guard shooing me away.

Stella left me to watch Boo Boo her adorable tiny pup. I tied his leash to my belt as I sketched. A second group of Pilates warriors stopped to ask his name and give him all the pets. A man about half way up the block from me, seated on the sidewalk looked like he might be homeless, then again, I probably looked about the same having just come from the sweaty Everglades.

The last time Stella was here, she had to wait overnight since the line to get into the consulate had been so long, snaking around the block. This time the line did not extend past the width of the building. Also She did not have to wait in line since she was just picking up her document. The bureaucratic process still gave me enough time to complete this sketch, so she must have been inside over an hour.

With the United States spiraling into a dictatorship, having official documents is more important than ever given, the ICE raids of workplaces and family gatherings. Stella and I watched a video of a realtor talking about how many rich people are leaving the country, selling their million dollar properties. She used to see one such sale every few months but now she is seeing a flood of people getting out of the country.

I was considering purchasing a home in New York State, but now I am reconsidering the idea of buying a property in the United States. My new plan is to travel Europe, sketching each day, for eight months, following the movements of the 75th Infantry, C Company, in the final months of WWII as they defeated Fascism. My father Arthur Harold Thorspecken was a 1st Lieutenant in C Company and I am now plotting their battles, breaking it down by the day. My sketches will be dated based on the events taking place in 1945. I am pouring over several pamphlets my father had been given at the end of the war and a written recounting of the infantry’s movements based on the recollections of another 1st Lieutenant of C Company. My father never talked about the war. My brother warned me about the winter weather, but C Company had to deal with freezing conditions as they moved around Europe. I will just have to deal with whatever weather is thrown my way.

COVID Dystopia is an official Selection at the Wild Rivers Film Festival

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COVID Dystopia is an official selection at the Wild Rivers Film Festival on August 15th to 18th, 2025. The festival runs in four theaters, one of which is the Redwood Theater, 621 Chetco Ave, Bookings, Oregon. There are two other venues as well, The Chetco Live Theater and the Chetco Public Library. It would be just my luck for COVID Dystopia to screen in a library to disturb patrons who just want some peace and quiet.

Wild Rivers Film Festival  is a competitive exhibition for domestic and international feature films, documentaries, shorts and screenplays. It is a film festival that had not crossed my radar, but I was asked to submit by the festival executive director, Daniel Springen. This is the second year that the festival has been running.

The Wild Rivers Film Festival is an immersive four-day experience that includes screenings in four venues, industry panels, and workshops that are all geared toward indie filmmakers and adventurous movie lovers.

The festival has nightly parties and a variety of professional activities which encourage important networking opportunities for all.

Brookings, Oregon is nestled right on the breathtaking Pacific coastline. The people are friendly, the seafood is fresh, and the film history is prolific. Bookings also was the only place in the contiguous United States to be bombed by air in WWII. Since I am deeply entrenched in researching WWII history right h=now, that fact fascinates me.

On September 9 and September 29, 1942, Imperial Japanese Navy pilot Nobuo Fujita, flying a float plane launched from the submarine I-25, and dropped incendiary bombs near Brookings with the goal of starting large forest fires. The forests were moist from a recent rain and the fires died out quickly on their own. The goal to create massive forest fires to draw U.S. military resources away from the Pacific Theater and demoralize the American public was a failure.

The festival culminates with an award ceremony featuring cash & prizes.

Star Spangled Spectacular

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

On July 4th I went to Ski Beach Park (201 E Dixie Ave, Leesburg, FL) for the Star Spangled Spectacular. I went fairly early to sketch the people who gathered for the fireworks. Parking in a field was still easy to accomplish.

The park overlooks Lake Harris and Monkey Island which has the remnants of a former boy scout camp . Across the narrow channel is the Pat Thomas Baseball Stadium that I sketched at several weeks ago.

People were already setting up tents and lawn chairs lake side. I saw that there was more activity at the tip pf the peninsula, so I walked in that direction. At the tip of the peninsula there were sand volleyball courts, food vendors, a stage and amusement rides.

I decided that the Berry Go Round was the most patriotic ride to sketch. Children would enter the dark interior of the berries and then a door would close behind them They could control how much the berry spun by using a steering wheel in the center of the berry. The Ferris Wheel was also quite popular with kids and parents alike.

As I sketched, the sky grew menacingly dark behind me. Thunder rumbled and the first rain drops hit my sketch. I cursed the fact that I had left my umbrella back in the car. I rushed back before the rain grew torrential. With the umbrella in hand I hiked back to the amusement rides, where I waited for the rain to stop. With my second pass at completing the sketch the crowds grew larger and a band started playing covers from the stage.

Behind me, Captain America was posing with kids. The sky grew even darker before I finished the sketch. I decided I would not be staying for the fire works. Having worked at Disney Feature Animation kind of turned me into a fireworks snob. At Disney I could watch fireworks every night of the week. Back at the Lake County studio I had cut a watermelon in half and served the two halves with a spoon. I still had plenty of watermelon left over and wanted to get back to scoop more out. That is my idea of a decent way to celebrate July 4th.

80 Feet of Destruction

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By Thomas Thorspecken

An otherwise quiet morning was interrupted by the sound of a chainsaw and a loud thud that shook the ground. A lot was being cleared that had been a dense forest for hundreds of years in the quiet suburbia development in Lake County, Florida.  Dense forest had been a perfect source of shade in the sweltering summer. I had looked at the lot on Zillow and it sold for $96,000. If a $400,000 home were built, there, was plenty of profit to be made.

My friend, had set up a bench near the street that relied on the shade of the trees to offer a resting place for people walking through the neighborhood. It was about to be drenched in endless blazing sunlight. The workers used it to store equipment and drinks.

One worker, known as the climber, had sharp metal cleats on his boots and he was the one who would cut off branched high overhead, and then fell the tree trunk half way up. A large backhoe would push over what remained of the tree trunk and dig up the roots.

The climber was almost pushed off the tree by the backhoe which was pushing over another tree. The tree branches narrowly missed the climber and he shouted down to the ground for them to take more care. In the haste to flatten the lot quickly, they were being reckless.

One of the crew had once been a climber in his youth. Back then, he was up in a tree 30 feet in the air, and the tree snapped at the base, falling to the ground with him in it. A tree branch punctured his upper thigh and didn’t stop until it hit bone. He never climbed another tree.

A large osprey, clutching a fish landed in one of the few remaining trees on the lot. He ate his breakfast as the devastation happened below him. The next day, the osprey returned and could not find the tree he had landed in the day before. Confused, he landed on the grass in the back yard for a moment. He was magnificently large, only about 10 feet from me. He spread his large wings and took off with the fish to find another branch high above the ground to feast upon his catch.

As I sketched, a dragon fly hoovered next to me looking at the habitat being destroyed. He hoovered in place for about five minutes, curious and perhaps horrified. The dragon fly didn’t notice me, we both stared in disbelief. It was a surreal scene. I could see the wheels turning in his little insect mind. Perhaps the dense forest had once been his home. It had also been home to owls, snakes, several ducks, and squirrels who played among the branches. At night that lot had always been full of mysterious noises. Now it would be silent.

A worker explained to me that they were only clearing about two thirds of the property, about 80 feet back from the road. A stake with a small orange strip of fabric marked where they would stop. The lot had been purchased by a developer who was going to quickly build a house for profit. The dense forest growth would fill the back yard of the new home being built. After one day of cutting, only a few trees remained in the front 80 feet of the property. It took hundreds of years for the trees on the lot to grow, but absolute devastation happened in just a few days.

KFC

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

I drove to Crealdé to drop off a painting for a show happening at Casa Feliz (656 N. Park Avenue, Winter Park Florida). That show, titled In Good Company is happening from August 5 to August 28, 2025. the hours are Tuesday through Friday and Saturdays 10am to 4pm. Admission is free.

On the way to Crealdé, I passed a Mediterranean restaurant I used to go to religiously with a friend named May Hill. I decided I should order lunch there and sketch the interior. However when I got there, there was a sign on the door that said, “Dear friend, I am sorry but we must close for a few weeks due to family matters.” Ugh, so disappointing.

So, on the drive back to Lake County, I just looked for fast food options. I stopped into KFC. I can not resist the original recipe.

There is no human interaction anymore inn fast food joints. If you want to talk to a person you must use the drive through. KFC was a staple that got me through the School of Visual Arts in NYC. I used to order chicken all the time at the restaurant across from Macy’s.

Today you have to order using a computer kiosk. I got lost in an endless loop trying to order my meal. The kiosk kept adding cherry pastry bites to my meal and there was no way to remove the offending item from my order. Frustrated, I finally gave up and took the bloody sweets. A gentleman was trying to place his order next to me. After my order was approved, I helped him out. He kept ordering $20 and $30 family meals but he just wanted a few bites for himself. I guided him through the choices I had made. I was essentially doing the work for the KFC corporation with no paycheck. Annoyed the guy next to me said, These kiosks are here so we do the work the employees used to do.

The woman who handed out the meals was doing a stellar job. She apologized any time a meal was late and she addresses the woman as mama. “You wait right there moma, your order is coming right up.” she said.There was a major rush of orders as I was sketching. The woman must have been a manager, because once the rush had subsided, the clapped loudly and shouted, “You all did an amazing job.” That woman deserved a a tip, but tips are not an option with human interaction stripped from the ordering process.

As I was sketching I watched a young couple struggled with trying to order on the kiosk. I have no idea why a KFC chicken bucket was hanging from the ceiling as decoration. It makes for a very odd chandelier.

Look at Those Melons!

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

My Friend Stella P. Arbelaéz Tascon and I were seated on a wooden bench at the entry to this covered stall area at Webster’s Market. This vendor was selling corn on the cob and watermelon. Stella said that his thick southern accent was for show, in that vendors are showmen as well as salesmen. On watermelon was cut open with a machete and free samples were offered to any passer by.

Parked in the parking lot was a Trump and Vance American flag painted car.

Stella had t use the bank machine to get some cash outside the market office. The person getting cash before use stood staring at the screen forever. It turned out the machine had not given him his cash, Had to go into the office to report that the machine had failed him. Stella decided to try the machine herself despite the risk. The machine refused to work. In the market office she was guaranteed a refund at her bank. There was no other bank machine on property but there was one at a gas station down the street. We walked with Boo Boo down the street to find the machine. There was a sign on the gas station door that said no dogs were allowed inside but service dogs. Boo Boo panicked when Stella went into the gas station. I kept reassuring him that she would return. Each person that filed inside smiled. They came back out with there lottery tickets secured.

Each watermelon was $7. I decided I had to have one. I picked up the biggest one I could find and it was as heavy as a cinder block. Stella’s little granny cart strained under the weight. We also picked up so many fruits and vegetables that the bags overflowed from the top of the cart. I ha to hold the handles of the top bag to keep it from tipping over and spilling out.

I am not a great shopper. Some of the vendors spoke Spanish. Stella spoke fluently to them. My 60 or so days of Duolingo only allowed me to pick up a few words of the conversations. When I picked up some tamarind from one vendor I started taking to Stella and walked away. He shouted out, “You haven’t paid me!” I am such a space cadet sometimes.

Meanwhile in Gaza, starving Palestinians are being shot to death as they rush towards food relief truck in the hope of getting some food.

On July 4th, I finally cut the watermelon in half. I put the two halves on a table with spoons. Stella and I raced one another in eating the watermelon. Hers looked like a strange smiling beast with a snaggle tooth. She took a photo of her creation and used it as her profile picture on Facebook.

Alligator Alcatraz: Protestors

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By Thomas Thorspecken

The scene at the entrance of Alligator Alcatraz was chaotic with protestors who want the facility removed lining both sides of the street. Florida State Troopers and National Guard Troops were on hand to be sure the entrance to the concentration camp remained open. A helicopter hoovered over head. I am not sure if the helicopter was for media or the camp security.

There was a bit of a circus atmosphere around the entrance.  was one pro Trump protestor who had a sign that said, “Send more Gators.” A family showed up later with a father waving a 1776 American flag and his daughter held a Trump, MAGA election flag. They were quickly surrounded by media like a swarm of mosquitos. The little girl spread her arms to unfurl the blue flag, then she wore it like a shawl over her shoulders to protest from the intense sun.

Protestors against the facility far outnumbered the people celebrating cruelty. The number of reporters far out numbered all the protestors on hand. My friend Stella P. Arbelaéz Tascón and I walked around on cameraman standing on the shoulder who was looking through his camera with his back to traffic. A blue jeep veered towards us at maybe 5 MPH. Stella and I jumped aside but the cameraman was blindsided and struck from behind. He fell forward twisting his body to look back as he fell. His left foot got caught under the front tire and then the car ran over his leg up to his knee. I was right beside him as it happened.

Though political opinions were divisive, people pulled together to help the man who was run down. The driver was panicked and clueless as she slowly backed up off his leg, off the shoulder and into the road. A thin white line separated where it as safe to walk and the traffic on the road. All traffic was stopped by state troopers after the accident. A national guardsman talked to the injured man and kept him still until EMTs could arrive. The shoe was taken off the man’s injured leg. If he was in extreme pain then he knew how to mask the pain. Thousands of photos must have been taken as he lay on the shoulder of the road. The ambulance arrived from inside Alligator Alcatraz and he was loaded on a gurney and taken inside. Legislators and representatives who toured the facility that day complained that they could not see the medical facilities. This one cameraman got to see the medical facilities first hand.

Stella had been interviewed by a Univision reporter in Spanish. Stella’s interview kicked ass since she was well versed in how development was encroaching on the natural beauty of the Everglades. Stella is from Colombia and speaks Spanish fluently, so her opinions carried weight as she spoke of Latino detainees with no criminal records being held in the facility. We looked t the comments with the now viral video and strangely few people addressed what Stella had said. Instead people seemed fixated on Boo Boo, her tiny dog who sat in her lap as she was sketching. People wanted to jump to the conclusion that Boo was suffering in the Florida heat even though his fur had recently been trimmed and he was in the shade of a golf umbrella. I can vouch for the fact that he is very well taken care of. People are instantly more concerned with the well being of a pet instead of having any compassion for humans being held under atrocious conditions in the detention camp. Steve, a National guardsman came over in his camouflage uniform and asked to pet Boo Boo. He explained that he had a small pup named Josephine Coco Pebbles. Josephine had her own social media page.

Any concern about the views of police, or National Guard, regarding the detention camp, melted away in part because people had to pull together to help an injured reporter. Boo Boo also helped bridge the political divide, allowing people to unite, or express concern about Boo’s well being, as he stood against injustice. The tiniest of pets can ignite concern while people celebrate cruelty to humans.

Alligator Alcatraz: Press Conference

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

On July 12 Democratic legislators and representatives had arranged to get a tour of the Alligator Alcatraz, a quickly assembled pop-up detention center with tents set up on an abandoned airstrip in the everglades. At least five members of Congress and roughly 20 state legislators toured the detention center.

A reporter held up a fist full of rusty nails and explained that the nails had been planted on the roadside to puncture the tires of news trucks and protestors vehicles as they pulled off the road to park. Thankfully, the Prius I had parked, did not get a flat.

When Stella P. Arbelaéz Tascóne and I arrived at the Alligator Alcatraz we noticed a news tent set up where legislators were taking to reported before they went into the detention facility. It was blazing hot but I sat to get the sketch.

The meeting broke up as I was sketching. The tent had been crowded full of reporters but they wandered off when the representatives left to go inside the dentition center for a tour. The sketch gives the impression I get any time I post a sketch and article. You might think you are addressing a crowd, but actually only a few ever seem to hear the commentary.

Debbie Wasserman Schultz explained that 32 detainees are packed into cages like sardines, inside the tents, with eight cages per tent. There are 900 detainees reported to be at the detention camp. inmates have to wear colored bracelets, Red, Yellow and Green, to mark where they stand in the deportation process. Red would be a high level offense, Green was a medium offense, and Yellow which was worn by most of the inmates was for minor civil offenses. Lawyers are finding it impossible to meet with detainees.

Schultz said conditions inside the internment camp were were appalling. The te,nts were hot muggy and mosquito infested. Carlos G. Smith complained that they were not allowed to talk to any of the detainees. Anna Eskamani explained that they were shown empty tents to give a sanitized and scripted impression of the facility. There were three toilets per cage. As she put it, “We have animals that are in better conditions.” She said the detention center was a $50 million dollar grift.

The airstrip had been shut down because it did not meet environmental standards. Huge trucks are rolling into the facility every day. A reported 11 acre area has been covered with cement. The site is not hurricane proof nor is it flood proof. Within a week of the sire opening video footage leaked onto the internet showing a floor at the site flooding. The Miami Herald reported that over 100 detainees do not have any criminal record.

Mosquito Alcatraz

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

My friend, Stella P. Arbelaéz Tascón had to pick up art from from the Morean Gallery in Saint Petersburg and she also had to go to the Colombian consulate in MIami to pick up her national ID, a document which she had to renew. She had the brilliant idea of also going to the Everglades to see the protests happening against Alligator Alcatraz.

Alligator Alcatraz is a 3000 bed concentration camp being build with tents on Dade-Collier Training and Transition Airport which was abandoned due to its being an environmental travesty. The point of this facility is the cruelty.

Since this was such a far drive we decided to camp overnight near the protest in the Big Cypress National Preserve. When we got to the entrance of the detention center there were unfortunately no protestors. Stella decided to talk to the State Trooper. She parked her Prius at the entry way and the trooper said over a loud speaker that she would have to move her vehicle, which she did. I stayed in the car with her dog, Boo Boo, who always is nervous when he looses sight of her. She explained that we were illustrative journalists and wanted to know when the protestors were usually out. She was told that there had been maybe ten protestors in the morning. A man standing near a federal vehicle  joked condescendingly that the “they all leave the moment the first mosquito come out.”

Disappointed, we decided to go to the campground she reserved, to set up our tents. We planned to experience what it was like to camp in the Everglades like the inmates. The site had a covered picnic table and a small fire pit. It overlooked a lake which would be nice when the sun rose in the morning. I threw my art bag on the picnic table and we threw the first tent on the ground to set it up. As I was unfolding a tent, Stella shouted, “Thomas, look at your legs, you are covered!”. Sure enough there were what seemed like hundreds of mosquitoes on the backs of my legs. Stella scrambled to get the bug spray out of the hatchback. I sprayed my legs frantically, but they kept buzzing around my face and ears. it was a full on frontal assault. Stella has walked through the Everglades on her 2020 through hike of the Florida National Scenic Trail, but this was too much. She shouted, “To hell with this!” and we threw the half unfolded tent into the Prius and drove off in haste. It took us another 45 minutes to kill all the mosquitoes that had followed us into the car. It was pure madness, absolute hell.

We drove past the entrance to Alligator Alcatraz one more time, and saw a single woman holding a sign that said, “They kill Latinos here.” I admired her tenaciousness.

We pulled into an Indian Reservation parking lot and decided to find rooms in a La Quinta Inn near the Miami airport. Airplanes flew over the hotel all night long, but it was preferable to having a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing in my ears. I slept like a baby that night, so thankful I wasn’t in a tent being eaten alive. I decided that a much better name for the horrific detention center was Mosquito Alcatraz.

Alligator Alcatraz: Reporter run down

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorpecken

I did three  sketches of the protest at Alligator Alcatraz. I am posting the third sketch first because it portrays the most horrific incident of the protest. A news cameraman is sitting up shortly after having been hit by a blue Jeep and having his left leg run over.

After completing a sketch,  Stella P. Arbelaéz Tascón and I were walking along the main road on the shoulder. The many parked cars on the grass and dirt, forced people into the shoulder of the road to walk. There were probably more reporters at than protestors. Most protestors were against the fence in front of the entrance to the detention facility. The detention center was thrown up in the dead of night on an abandoned airstrip. A few protestors were pro-Trump. One little girl wrapped herself in a Trump, MAGA election flag. 

I was walking behind Stella on the shoulder of the road when I noticed a blue jeep drifting towards  us. It was coasting at maybe 5 miles per hour. It moved straight for Stella, who slapped the front wheel of the jeep and stepped aside. There was a parked car to Stella’s left limiting her movement. I also stepped aside into the grass between two parked vehicles. A reporter, who worked for EFE, was looking through a camera. He had his back to the oncoming traffic. The front bumper of the blue jeep hit his hips causing his back to arch and then he fell forward. He must have turned as he he fell, trying t look back at what had hit him. I then saw the thick knobby front tire of the jeep run over his leg. The jeep kept rolling forward until it had his entire lower leg pinned down up to his knee. I was right next to him as he fell and had his leg crushed. I just shouted out, “Jesus Christ!” The woman behind the wheel, stopped, then slowly backed up. She was horrified and clueless. a young woman was seated beside her in the passenger seat. Part of me thought back to a comment Florida Governor Ron DeSantis had said “If you hit one of these people, that is their fault” I don’t think the woman ran the reporter over intentionally. She was rubbernecking, and not looking at where she was going. She drove off the road into the shoulder.

Stella was interviewed by police as an eye witness. The image of his leg being pinned under the tire will forever live in my mind. Had Stella and I not stepped aside fast enough, we too would have been hit. After talking to the police officer, Stella then went to the passenger window of the jeep and told the woman behind the wheel, that “We are all human and we all make mistakes”. Stella knew it was not intentional, and she reassured the woman that it would all be OK.

I had been less forgiving. I heard the driver say to the passenger that the man had been in the road. I shouted to her that she had run off the road into the shoulder. He was clearly in the shoulder of the road. The fact is, the woman never saw him. Se was probably reading protestor sign on the opposite side of the road rather than looking at where she was going. Once the cameraman fell, she could not see over the hood of her jeep. When the woman hit him, her wheel was on the shoulder of the road and when she backed up the tire went back on the road but still on the white line.

The reporter could not get up. An ambulance eventually came from inside Alligator Alcatraz. Paramedics helped lift him up on a gurney and roll him into the ambulance. He was then driven into Mosquito Alcatraz.