Morning Laps

My friend Stella Arbeláez Tascón and I subscribed for morning lap swims three times a week for the summer, at the H.O. Dabney Pool (312 Pine Street Leesburg Florida). I might have to miss a couple of lap swims while I am traveling to The Wild Rivers Film Festival, in Oregon, but the lap swims are a great way to start the day.

In the first session, we must have swum for well over an hour. I should have felt exhausted, after coming out of the water, but instead I felt euphoric. A sense of peace sweeps over me after a swim, and I feel ready to tackle the tasks for the day.

There are showers in the men’s and women’s rooms to rinse away the chlorine. The chlorine was making Stella’s long hair start too turn blonde. My stark white hair, what remains of it, refused to turn blonde. It might have been nice to have a hint of blonde since I am planning a long trip to Germany, and I would blend in better with my Nordic ancestors.

I tried swimming freestyle, but I really don’t like having my face in the water. I need to blow bobbles out of my nose, so I feel that I get winded too fast. I also seem to always breath on the upward stroke of my right arm. I am sure that with a few lessons I would get much better at this fast swimming style. I prefer to swim with a modified butterfly style. It is modified in that I don’t submerge my face with each stroke. My version of the swimming style looks more like a frog swimming, although a frog is probably is more graceful.

I also like to swim on my back, spreading my arms like Christ to check that I am not steering off course into the floating ropes. There are blue and white flags over the pool at each end,. When doing the back stroke, I use those flags to let me know to raise my arms to be prepared to touch the wall thus saving me from crashing my head into the cement.

As we were leaving the lap pool, the water was turned on with the water slide and it gushed out a top speed. Kids and parents, who have been waiting at the front gate rushed inside as we walked out the front gates to the parked Prius, and the place started buzzing with chaotic activity.

Cattle Auction

There is a cattle auction every Tuesday starting at noon at the Sumpter County farmers Market (524 North Market Boulevard Webster, Fl). The wooden enclosures were distinctive and easy to find as was the definite smell of manure. I walked along the tall wooden fencing until I came to a wooden staircase that lead to a walkway along the tops of the enclosures. This in itself was an exciting sketch opportunity, but there were no cows, just an empty maze of wooden gated pens. I passed several guys in cowboy hats and just assumed I would find the auction at some point.

I finally had to ask a cowboy walking towards me, on the narrow walkway, where I could find the auction. He pointed to a narrow alleyway, between the enclosure and a cider block building. I met a fellow who looked like he had been working the enclosures for most of his life. He pointed me in a direction. That lead me to another wooden gate with a heavy sliding medieval bolt latch. I heard cows now, but sensed that once again I was heading in the wrong direction. I took a right into a narrow alleyway with a 5 foot high wooden wall, that had multiple doors that could be opened and closed. From here I could look up at the stadium seating, but this clearly wasn’t the entrance. I was back stage in the wings. Large curved metal bars would have had to be scaled to get to the seating, so this was a dead end.

There was one metal door that had seemed locked on a previous try, but it was just jammed. With a stiff pull, it squeaked open, and I found a seat among the buyers. I made sure to not scratch my nose, or rub my bald head, fearing that I might bid on a full grown heifer by mistake. The auctioneer took a seat in a cushy leather chair above the curved bars I had found previously by mistake. Two young women kept track of the cows that were to be auctioned. They must have been running the electronic boards which showed each cows tag number, weight, bidding price and buyer. Buyers chatted to one another, waiting for the auction to begin.

Then I heard some woman shout yeahaa, yeahaaaa, git, git! I saw her waving a rag back stage and a cow clamored out with her calf. They were both terrified, turning to look at the large crowd in cowboy hats, looking down at them. A fellow was behind the wooden gate doors I had wandered into and he would open a door and slap the cow on the but with a rag on a stick. This was to get her to turn and keep moving, I suppose the point was to show that her legs worked. She never had a moment of peace. She stopped for a second to look at a cowboy in the audience and he waved a flag in her face as well.

The auctioneer chattered an a fast animated pace. I didn’t follow anything he said at first but the goal it seemed was just to keep making noise while mentioning the highest bid. Cowboys raised small cards or two raised fingers to keep the bids coming. The cow and calf sold quickly and they were shooed out through another door. Cattle kept coming into the Road Warrior style cage all morning, each reacting in its own way. One bull with long horns stomped his front feet and threatened to charge a cowboy in the front row. A quick slap n the rump turned him to threaten someone else.

I sketched quickly thinking I only had two hours to complete the sketch, but the auction kept going long after the sketch was complete. I exited when there was a pause in the auction. This time in the maze of enclosures there were plenty of cows, calf’s and bulls. They stared at me through the wooden fence as I walked past probably wondering what their fate might be. I looked onto their dark wet eyes and wondered the same thing.

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Orlando Urban Sketchers at OMA

By Thomas Thorspecken

I went to the Orlando Museum of Art (OMA) (2416 N Mills Ave, Orlando, FL) because the museum galleries were open for artists to sketch. My friend Stella P. Arbelaéz Tascón is a member of the museum and called to find out that she could get me in as well. What the museum receptionist had failed to tell Stella was that her guest would just get $5 off the price of admission. I went into the museum hoping they might be giving out free Jean-Michel Basquiat cardboard forgeries to all who attended. Unfortunately the FBI had collected all the cardboard for their own collection.

As Stella and I scouted the galleries trying to decide where to sketch, we noticed quite a few other artists in the galleries hard at work. It turned out that The Orlando Urban Sketchers group was in the museum. I helped found the Orlando Urban Sketchers group back when I used to host Drink and draw events in Orlando. The group is more vibrant than ever using social media to generate interest and get artists out of their studios to explore other venues for artistic inspiration with their sketchbooks in hand.

The Orlando Urban Sketchers group usually hosts events when I am online with a student. I was surprised to find the group just by sheer luck. I chose this subject because I saw Aristotle_05 doing a fun colorful sketch of this sculpture which is titled Sound Suit by Nick Cave. I liked that the female urban sketcher seemed dwarfed by the size of the Sound Suit.  Aristotle_05 later stood and took a few photos of the statue so I got him in the sketch. We held a throw down in front of the Museum gift shop. It was a great opportunity to meet other artists who had come out to sketch.

Alejandra in the Barn

By Thomas Thorspecken

Stella Arbeláez Tascón wanted to visit her sister Carolina who had just moved her horse, Gold, into a new barn. Carolina and her fiance were busy getting the place ready.

Their daughter, Alejandra hung out with Stella and played on her own in her own mini barn. The plastic horse had movable legs and a long flowing tail. The plastic horse however was just a tad to big for the plastic barn. If it was squeezed into the barn its front legs or hind legs would have to dangle off the floor. A very poor design I must say.

Alejandra on the other hand could fit herself in perfectly. She tried squeezing in with the horse as well, but that was a disaster. The barn doors just would not close. The horse was thrown aside.

There was a baby girl with long flowing blonde hair, lying on the roof of the barn. I don’t know why. She seemed to be taking a nap with her arms raised. Perhaps she had climbed up there using the tiny ladder she was lying on. A key chain in the doorknob had a bottle opener for the all important task of providing liquid sustenance on a hot day such as this.

The real horse behind the mini barn had a ball on a rope he liked to play with. He would pull on the rope with his teeth and then let the ball drop back down to the ground. The occupied him for maybe 10 minutes and then her turned back to relax in the stall. It was a super hot day so movement was turned down to a minimum. Flies were a constant nuance. One fly crawled all over Stella’s palette, convinced I am sure that one of those colors was a tasty treat. I shooed flies off my sketch with my left hand. The horses shivered the flies off their hide or swished them off with their tales, and learned to live with the flies that marched up and down their snouts. I wished the flesh on my arms could shiver that same way to shake the flies off. Since my hands were full of art supplies, I leaned over repeatedly and blew as hard as I could the offenders.

The Barn

By Thomas Thorspecken

Stella Arbeláez Tascón‘s sister Carolina had just moved her horse, Gold, into a new barn. The atmosphere was tense as she and her husband Tim worked to find the supply the water and get the horses out into the pasture for the first time.

A pick up truck full of bagged salt had to be unloaded for a mobile Equine Halotherapy business Carolina has started. Equine halotherapy, or salt therapy for horses, is a drug-free treatment that utilizes a halogenerator to disperse dry salt aerosol into a specialized room or container, which horses inhale to improve respiratory and skin health. This natural therapy offers benefits like clearer airways, reduced inflammation, improved lung function, enhanced stamina, and healthier skin, making it beneficial for both performance horses and those with respiratory or skin issues.

Stella wanted to stop by after sketching the protestors at Alligator Alcatraz to sketch a more peaceful setting. It turns out a horse barn can be just as much of a high stakes war zone.

Stella had brought her niece a box of wooden blocks which could be used to create and amazing fictional city. She kept her niece on her hip and then her lap as she sketched. Later she set her niece up with a water brush so she could make a painting of her own. That painting had plenty of red with a few splashes of swirling yellow.

Strip for Profit

By Thomas Thorspecken

The Lake County Studio used to have a lush undeveloped lot full of tall pine trees and underbrush. In a matter of days that lot was cleared with all the trees cut down and the roots ripped out using large machinery.

There was a backboard set up at the edge of the studio property with a bench in front of it. The bench was rather worn, needing replacement boards. Most important, this section of the yard got plenty of shade. That is no longer the case, now this corner of the yard is exposed to full sun. The backboard was destroyed because the root system of a tree caused it to get knocked apart. Boards now are at odd angles. A section of the black cattle ranch fencing was also destroyed.

At first the developer only wanted the first 80 feet of the yard stripped barren. But on this day more trees were removed and the underbrush stripped bare. A canoe was found which had a bullet hole and some decking. The canoe was ripped in half by the jaws of the machinery. Fence damage in the back yard is now highly exposed, looking out on a barren war torn landscape.

Development in the area is encroaching fast. Large farms are being bought up to be turned in to lifeless home developments stacked with ticky tacky box homes wall to wall.

I am now researching French and German cities my father fought in at the end of WWII. Entire rural towns resembled the lifeless lot next door, flattened by 50 ton bombs, artillery and tanks.

Colombian Consulate

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

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

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

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.