Christmas in the Park

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A free concert in Winter Park’s Central Park was the perfect way to get in the Christmas spirit. It was a very cold night for Orlando. I arrived maybe half an hour early and already the great lawn was packed with families who had come out with picnic baskets, blankets, wine and even fine china and candles for the occasion. I felt a bit unprepared with just a sketchbook, pen and some watercolors. After I set up my stool on the sidelines, Ken Sperduso walked up and said hello. Ken was a former Disney colleague and a wonderful painter. I hadn’t seen Ken in ages, it was a pleasant surprise. His whole family was camped out not far behind me. Ken said he recognized me from behind because of the sketchbook in my lap.

Large shadow box containers were arranged on stage and around the lawn, housing original Tiffany stained glass windows which were created for a church in NYC in the early 1900’s. At the start of the concert they all were illuminated from behind. The instant they blazed brightly, the crowd burst forth with applause. It is rewarding to hear people applaud for visual art. These amazing works had iridescent colors that only Tiffany could perfect in molten glass. This display was made possible thanks to the Morse Museum which houses the world’s largest collection of Tiffany’s work.

The concert featured the Bach Festival Choir and Brass Ensemble. As I sketched, I pulled my hands up into the sleeves of my sweatshirt to try and keep them warm. Periodically I had to blow into my cupped hands for added warmth. It felt like Christmas time. When I finished the sketch I walked around in the crowd for a while looking for a possible second sketch. I walked under a streetlamp so I could see the colors I had just painted for the first time. Mr. and Mrs. Claus were handing out candy to children. They were dressed in vintage 1900’s red wool and white fur outfits. They looked warm as they calmly posed for family photos. I considered a sketch but my fingers were cold, and the jolly couple were constantly on the move. The Park Avenue store windows glowed warm and inviting. With all the families huddling close together for warmth and the angelic voices of the children on stage singing, I started feeling out of place, alone, with only my obsessive compulsion to sketch as company. As I turned away and walked down Park Avenue towards my truck, I pulled the sweatshirt hood up over my head and felt instantly warmer. The children’s voices were still harmonizing behind me and I let the warmth spread as I walked briskly back toward home.

Fisherman’s Village, Punta Gorda

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While visiting my Sister, Pat Boehme, in south Florida over the Thanksgiving Holiday, we decided to hit some stores in Punta Gorda for Black Friday. Pat drove us to Fisherman’s Village which is a series of shops that line an old dock. The stores were all decked out with Christmas decorations. It was way too early for me to consider sketching Santa or Reindeer. I walked the length of the dock, looking in all the shop windows without much interest. I decided to sit outside behind the shops and enjoy the view of all the boats. Later this month there will be a nautical parade where boats are decorated to the hilt with Christmas lights. Stringing lights from masts certainly would make for simple Christmas tree shapes.

One of the boats motored out from its moorings while I sketched. A man was behind the wheel shouting out orders and a woman was on the bow coiling up some ropes. She was in a bikini. The warm beautiful day made it difficult to imagine that Christmas was right around the corner.

International Cultural Drum Exchange

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I woke up at 6am in order to get down to the UCF Center for Emerging Media (500 West Livingston Street Orlando). I had been given a tip by Dana Mott that a group of Nap Ford students were going to have a live video conference with a drummer from South Africa. As I drove east towards downtown, the sun rose above the horizon and expanded into a deep orange fireball. I don’t get up this early very often so I was delighted, my eyes squinted and misted up to the spectacle.

It was a freezing cold morning. Alright, I didn’t see any ice, but for my thin blood it was cold. The front door at the UCF Center was locked so I fired off several frantic calls on my cell. During the second call, a guard appeared and buzzed me in. I shook off the cold and made my way to the Bridge, a small auditorium on the first floor. The Nap Ford students were already seated in a semi circle around their drums. A piece of audio equipment had been Federal Expressed to South Africa the day before. On that distant continent they were reading manuals and struggling to plug everything in. Since there was no live feed, the Nap Ford students had some time to rehearse. The drums resounded jolting me awake. The room warmed and glowed to the rhythm and young voices.

The image from South Africa flickered live onto the big screen. Introductions were made and the students, most of them around ten years old, performed for the South African drummer named Lucky Paliso. As they found a resounding rhythm and sang, Lucky smiled broadly. There was magic in the moment. This was a cross cultural exchange that needed no words or translation. When they finished, everyone on the big screen clapped after a ten second lapse. Lucky pointed out that drumming is probably the worlds oldest form of communication and it is universal across all cultures. He told everyone how much he enjoyed the performance then he offered advice on interlacing rhythms within a beat. To drive his point home he taught the children a beat which they repeated. Then, as they continued to play, he performed an intricate rhythm that wove in and around their beat. It was playful, spirited, uplifting and inspired.

Jennifer Porter-Smith, the Nap Ford principle, thanked everyone who helped create an experience the students would certainly remember their entire lives. Lucky told the children that they were fortunate to be part of an ancient cultural tradition. In Senegal not anyone can play drums, they must be born a drummer. He said, “You can take an African out of the bush but you can not take the bush out of the African.” The students flipped through my sketchbook hungrily after the event was over. I got one of the best compliments I have had in a long time when a ten year old gave me a high five.

Such multi-cultural exchanges feel like a jolt of collective good will, a promise of fulfilled potential. There should be less reason for misunderstandings or conflict in a world filled with music. On the drive to my next sketch location, I felt happy and oddly at peace. What a great way to start the day!

Twelfth Night

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There was a free staged reading of Twelfth Night at the Shakespeare Theater (812 East Rollins Street.) There was an inspired twist to this performance which peaked my interest, the entire cast was male. In Shakespeare’s time this is how the show would have been cast. In the beginning there was surprised laughter and murmuring in the audience but then as the plot unfolded people settled in and the honest and unaffected performances helped suspend disbelief. It became obvious that Shakespeare wrote the play with an all male cast in mind. Many of the comedic moment became even funnier knowing a man would perform the part. The play is full of women disguised as men and men disguised as women. Thus the audience had to accept a man playing a woman disguised as a man. This sort of multi-layering was surprisingly simple and fun to follow. I highly respect the actors who played the female rolls. They played their parts with dignity and grace never pushing towards stereo typical flamboyant feminine performances.

“Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. ” I have heard this quote before but never seen it played out to its full comic effect. The words were uttered by Malvoio, played by Eric Zicot, is pretentious, ambitious and very full of his own self worth. Merry makers play a trick on him by writing a love letter that Malvolio believes is written by Countess Olivia, played by Timothy Williams, whom he serves as a steward. As he recites these lines about his greatness, he is strutting before his Countess like a peacockwearing outlandish bright yellow socks, and everyone knows Olivia abhors yellow socks. This over the top performance was the funniest moment in the play.

After the the show there was a question and answer session with the cast. Again and again women in the audience complimented the actors for how well they played the women’s rolls. Michael Wanzie a pruducer, director and radio personality, noted how clever and funny the play was when performed soley by men. Added humor and heightened meaning comes to the play when performed by the male cast. It is as if Shakespeare is poking fun at the theatrical traditions of which he was a part. Romeo and Juliet will have a similar all male cast reading at the Shakespeare Theater on Sunday, March 13, 2011 at 7 p.m. Mark your new 2011 calenders, you don’t want to miss it!

Pulse of Miami

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On our final day experiencing Art Basel in Miami, Terry and I went to Pulse. This contemporary art exhibit was in a huge warehouse which is normally used for photo shoots and large parties. At the entrance I went through the routine of getting my press pass which landed me a VIP card. The previous evening Terry had been handed a ticked by some guy on the street who had already been to the show. The building is surrounded by a stone wall and the gated entrance lead us to a nice grass lawn with some sculptures and hammocks tied between the palm trees. It was a perfect lazy morning so I decided to start off by kicking back and relaxing on the lawn. There is nothing better than sketching to settle into a place. I was fascinated by this small red European car which was perfectly symmetrical, having steering wheels and headlamps in both the front and back of the vehicle. Re-imagining automobiles seemed to be a running theme this year.

Many people entering the PULSE galleries stopped stared and took pictures. Signs on the car’s seats however asked that no one sit inside the vehicle. In front of the car was a sculpture by Orly Genger titled “Beefcakes 2010.” It was made from miles of white rope woven together like it was crocheted. It’s spiraling form looked to me like Hokasai’s “The Great Wave at Kanagawa.” Similar rope sculptures were scattered around the lawn. Children couldn’t resist sitting and playing on them. Soon parents relaxed and sat on the sculptures as well while they discussed their last European vacation.

Two of Terry’s friends showed up and we all sat down to have lunch. Over lunch I was told about some Graffiti artists who were working over on 23rd Street. As soon as I finished eating, my mind wandered and I got antsy wanting to get another sketch done. When the conversation turned to fashion, Terry suggested I take off on foot to sketch. I didn’t need to be told twice. I hiked past a cement factory and several automotive cut shops. The buildings got dingier until I hit the first patch of bright graffiti color. Suddenly every building was covered with pop images, Henai Anime, and bold tags.

When I came across a group of artists busy tagging a wall, I settled in to sketch. The artist working in the foreground is named “Clever.” I could smell the aerosol fumes the whole time I worked. The distant artist used a face mask and Clever wore a purple surgical glove on his spray can hand. People occasionally would stop and take pictures of the artists at work. Paint cans and other supplies were neatly arranged on a large trailer bed. The trailer bed just happened to be parked there offering a nice platform to inspect the work in progress.

When I was done with the sketch, I shared my work with the graffiti artists and then wandered the neighborhood some more. Galleries popped up left and right. The buildings exploded with color and were filled with art. Music blared from boom boxes and then I came across a large store front that was being covered with graffiti. Grazyana Kleinman, an Orlando photographer was there taking photos. I stopped to talk for a while. Grazyana has shot a whole series of photos of graffiti artists at work. She was ecstatic, in her element soaking in the vibrant street scene around her. Terry drove up thanks to several text messages and Art Basel was over. I certainly experienced more this Year than last, but three days just isn’t enough time.

CEO Stagecoach

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There was so much more going on in Miami besides the art on display in the Convention Center for Art Basel. I spent an entire day trying to track down and sketch the CEO Stagecoach. In the morning Terry and I went to the Rosa Dela Cruz Gallery (23 NE 41 Street ) along with Elayne Pines, Bob Newlen and Derek Hewitt. I quickly ran through the 3 floors of modern art and decided I had to draw this furry Sasquatch with mirrored staircases spiraling in and around it. A female guard stood vigil in her white suite beside the sculpture the whole time. The wall behind was covered floor to ceiling with colored mirrors which appealed to many a vain patron or photographer. Periodically a patron would walk up to the furry monstrosity and snap a photo using their iPhone. To me the sculpted creature looked very annoyed at all the attention he was getting. Black ooze dripped from his fingertips and where the fur was stripped away the flesh was pink and raw. I wondered if his privates were the focus of these photos but I couldn’t see from where I was sketching half way up a staircase. Just as I was finishing the sketch, I got a text message from Terry letting me know she was relaxing having a free coffee and cookies out on the back patio. After I tried a few cookies myself, we went to a staff member of the gallery and asked about the Stagecoach. He didn’t know where to find it but he did an exhaustive internet search. It turned out that the artist was giving a talk about his creation at the LIONS Gallery at Museovault(346 NW 29th Street) and the coach was slated to be there till 4pm. Terry and I got back in her car and rushed over to that gallery.

As we pulled up to the Museovault, Terry pointed and shouted out “There it is!” The horse drawn art was on the move however. I was despondent. It was leaving. Terry suggested I get out and run after it, but I haven’t figured out yet how to sketch while running. We went inside to ask about the piece anyway. The space had a fun quirky collection of art. There was a radio that once belonged to Robert Maplethorpe that Kieth Haring had drawn a few of his white stick figures on. I was informed that the CEO Stagecoach was going to pick up the artists parents and it would be returning. I sent out an excited tweet just in case any other artists had made it their mission to sketch the coach. I paced the gallery nervously waiting for my moment to sketch. Terry had one of the curators looking online for handbags and concertinas. I felt at home in this gallery which was humble compared to the circus of excess at the convention center.

The CEO Stagecoach was created by artist Jeremy Dean. He got the idea of cutting a Hummer in half and rebuilding it as a stagecoach after he read about how people bought cars before the Great Depression of 1929 and then they could not afford to pay for gas. All over the south Americans converted cars into horse drawn carts. These cars were referred to as “Hoover Carts“, after President Edgar Hoover. The Hummer has become a symbol of American excess in the 21st century. Jeremy ended up spending his wife’s life savings to buy a brand new Hummer to deconstruct. Luckily the piece was immediately purchased by a museum in Kentucky. After all the modifications the vehicle weighed in at 18 hundred pounds which isn’t much more than a standard cart. The gorgeous Belgian Draft horses didn’t seem to mind. As Jeremy said, “This is an exploration of historical amnesia, the culture of excess, financial collapse, sustainability and the future, through leather, steel and chrome.” Jeremy is planning to convert a Cadillac Escalade next. I asked Jeremy to sign my sketch. After his talk a bicycle rolled by on the sidewalk riding on its rims with no rubber tires. There was something surreal about the moment as both vehicles made statements about want and economics.

A Murder of Crows

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Alright, so they are actually Ravens but I felt Murder needed to be in the title. I returned to Macabre Vignettes #3 / Snow on the last day of rehearsals. Black ravens circled ominously over the Voci Dancers as the worked out the kinks to their dance routine. Once again Leah Marke was offering constant suggestions and encouragement. Each of the dancers was given a filament line that would control the height of one and sometimes two ravens. As they loosened the lines which were secured to the stylized trees, one raven dropped quickly grazing Melissa Medina’s hair. She shrieked in surprise and then laughed loudly. This routine is complicated by the fact that the lines often limit possible movement because they come down at obtuse angles. Every movement of the dancers affects the movement of the ravens. They had to balance a fine line, being puppeteers and dancers all at once. Dancer, Amanda Oost Bradberry, who is now pregnant wore a large ravens head mask. This was a stroke of pure genius, she is beautiful in the outfit, her distended belly and wide stance complimented the form of the head. With her arms over her head she resembled an infant in her proportions.

The staircase to the second floor was now enclosed and surrounded by an immense spider web. I had to duck to climb the stairs. Macabre found object sculptures were now hung gallery style against the back wall. It was a humbling and frightening collection. Downstairs Tamara’s mom was seated on a green cushion and organizing strings of Christmas lights. Tamara was high up on a ladder draping fabrics from lines. The environment she was creating had taken on so much form and structure since the last time I sketched. I doubt she ever slept. I know the true magic will happen as she creates and refines the final ten percent.

For the final dance routine, Leah let me sit right in the center of the action. Genevieve said, “This is only because you are at the rehearsals Thomas.” The action happened all around me. In the beginning the dancers were suspended from bolts of green fabric which hung from the ceiling I-beams. They hung from their hips dangling horizontally like limp dolls. Laughing, Leah was revolving uncontrollably until Lisa Nakayama stopped her. The large hunchbacked blue puppet walked around me reaching longingly in the air his sad expression registering resignation. It took three puppeteers to move him . Suddenly all the dancers were crouched around me and one got caught in a fearsome exchange with the creature. I of course was struggling to catch a gesture, or moment in the action. I already had one sketch under my belt however, so I finally relaxed and enjoyed the performance.

Admission to Macabre Vignettes #3 is $20 cash at the door, at Urban ReThink (625 East Central Boulevard), which used to be the Urban Think bookstore. Doors open 30 minutes prior to curtain time. They suggest getting your ticket early and then catching a bite to eat at any of the fabulous restaurants in the neighborhood.
Show times are:
December 11 (Today!) at 8pm and 10pm
December 12 at 2pm and 8pm

Stendhal Syndrome

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In the nineteenth century a French author named Stendhal was traveling in Florence Italy and he was so overwhelmed by all the art and beauty that he became dizzy, faint and physically sick. After a second solid day of chasing art in Miami I believe I might have suffered from this Stendhal Syndrome.

This sketch was done in the convention center. This installation caught my attention because inside people were sitting and gently playing a drum. The piece was called Circleprototemple by Ernesto Neto. A thin shear red fabric was stretched over wooden forms which created what in my mind resembled a heart or very large strawberry. This wasn’t an organized performance, rather curious passers by would enter the oval portal and sit on the wooden benches inside. A single drum mallet was suspended from a bungee chord over the drum. If the mallet was lifted and dropped it would bounce up and down striking the drum. Some people went inside not to play the drum, but to sit and finger their iPhones and PDA’s . I was surprised when Orlando photographer Grazyna Kleinman stopped by while I was sketching. She told me about her crazy night of partying till 4am. She was running on pure adrenaline. As we spoke an exhibitor told me to move my chair out into the exhibit floor walkway. He felt I was blocking a painting by Brian Calvin called group smoke.

I got two press passes to see SCOPE, a huge collection of work from contemporary artists in a large outdoor tent. Here I found the work of an artist whose paintings truly caused my heart to race. His name was Karim Hamid and he paints large figurative works with oils on board. His work is expressionistic and resembles the work of Francis Bacon to some extent. This work fired off something inside me, a new flame ignited. This is why I had come to Miami!

Later, Terry and I offered Brian Feldman a ride out to Miami’s South Beach. He had a case of Art and culture induced hiccups. He spent the whole ride telling us about the performances he was planning for the 2011 Orlando Fringe Festival. Every sentence was interrupted by a new and peculiar hiccup. Each interrupted thought caused us all to laugh to the point where it became hard to breath. I tried to share with him a time honored family cure but the incantation alone didn’t work without a cup of water.

Terry and I met two couples for dinner at a Cuban Thai Restaurant after dropping Brian off at South Beach. He was still hiccuping when he jumped out of the car. I had a spicy and delicious Pad Thai. When we called it a night and started the drive back to our friends home for the night, I suddenly felt ill. My stomach churned and I felt my innards turning to mud. Terry drove around the block and dropped me back at the restaurant. I ran back inside. Too much rich food, art and running around. I wouldn’t be documenting any naked bonfire parties this night.

Art Basel Miami

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As soon as I entered the Miami Convention center I searched for the media accreditation area. It was up an escalator on the second floor of section D. I had drafted my own press pass request letter with a nice Analog Artist Digital World letterhead. I was shocked when the young girl at the reception desk accepted my credentials and send me back to have my photo taken which was then printed out on a crispy new press pass. Blogs are slowly gaining ground as legitimate news media. Entering the convention floor, I had my bags checked by security. Terry, her friend Elayne and Bob had purchased tickets while I got my press pass so I tapped out a text message to Terry to find out if they were on the Convention floor yet. Actress Susan Serandon walked past me with an entourage. When I spotted Terry I told her about my star sighting and she quickly wandered off to gawk. I texted Brian Feldman to let him know I got my press pass. He had coached me on who to contact about getting the pass.

I wandered off in search of a spot to sketch. The narrow halls didn’t offer much room for me to sit myself without getting tripped on. Art covered every wall so it was hard to find a spot to sketch from without sitting in front of a painting. I finally found this grassy knoll of artificial grass. I set up my chair and sketched the people relaxing around me. The painting on the wall opposite wall was the work of Eddie Martinez done in mixed media. Figge von Rosen Gallery had a series of photos on the wall of Mexicans dressed in colorful traditional outfits. A couple next to me were discussing the Picasso’s and Magritte’s they had just seen. To my right there was some metalic silver looking fabric suspended on a stick. The stick would spin and the fabric would loft up, looking like a spinning pizza and then a UFO. This huge show often left me wondering, just what is art these days. Every woman wandering the halls looked like a fashion model. I have never seen so many beautiful people all gathered in one place in my life. Someone estimated the valve of all the artwork assembled in Art Basel at over three Billion dollars. If you looked at the value of all the women’s high heeled shoes walking Art Basel they might rival that value.

Macabre Vignettes #3/ Snow

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I got up in the middle of the night I woke and walked blindly to the bathroom, my bare feet slapping on the cold tiles. Not wanting to blind myself I didn’t bother turning on the light. Seated inside I stared at my wife’s white bathrobe hanging from a hook on the door. As I looked, half awake, I saw a dark form move in the crevice of the sleeve. A large dark spider slowly crawled out. Part of me wanted to pull the robe from the hook and stomp on it, but I was transfixed, the two or three inch spider was only a foot from my face. As I focused my eyes I saw a strange cylindrical web resembling a CD storage case, which ran up the sleeve. It had a strange consistency like it was made of small compartmentalized soap bubbles. The spider crawled around the outer edge and when it got to the top, the web collapsed in on itself and the spider moved around inside. I began to question what I was seeing, so I finally flipped on the light. The robe flashed a bright white and I had to close my eyes. There was nothing there, no web, no spider. Yet, it had been so real! I turned off the light and as my eyes adjusted to the dark again, I saw movement in the shadows a second time. The spider was even more tentative, but soon it was out again moving swiftly over its diaphanous web. It seemed to know I was watching . I didn’t bother switching on the light this time, I simply accepted this strange macabre waking dream. I returned to bed unable to sleep…

At Urban ReThink (625 East Central Boulevard), I crouched on the upper floor looking at the beautiful and grotesque sculptural puppet parts for Macabre Vignettes #3 / Snow. A soft babies head had its eyes sewn shut, a black bird perched menacingly inside a wooden box full of found mechanical objects. Below me Tamara Marke Lars, her husband and a third helper are struggling to hang a large birdlike puppet from a taught fly line. Tamara asks me if the line looks level from where I stand but I am indecisive. The space for now is disorganized, full of the bits and pieces that when assembled, will bring her unique vision to life. She is a master of the macabre and this unique show will most certainly fall outside any of your typical pedestrian Christmas offerings.
Tamara’s sister, Leah Marke, was in charge of bringing the six or so Voci dancers up to speed on how they will be staged as they interact with the giant puppets. She was a whirlwind, constantly on the move coaching and inspiring her fellow dancers. She spoke on her cell phone trying to help a dancer that was lost. Her eyelids glittered as she was giving turn by turn directions to the rehearsal. Afterward, she picked up two huge chicken feet and shouted out, “Look here, I gots me some darn big chicken feet.” Her affected southern accent caused me to laugh out loud. Turning to me, she finished with, “And you can quote me on that!” One of the dancers kept laughing with childish delight whenever Tamara would move a puppet she was working on. I shared her delight as I struggled to record the creative genius amongst the chaos. Tamara picked up the sickly looking blue child puppet from the rocking chair. In her warm, full arms the limp puppet looked like a frail cold Pieta.

I saw the Voci dancers rehearsing a dance that involved them wrapping themselves in fabric that hung from the ceiling. It took three puppeteers to move the large blue puppet. When they started grunting and playing boisterously the giant began to come alive. This show promises to be a surreal experience and I for one will not miss it.

Admission to Macabre Vignettes #3 is $20 cash at the door, at Urban ReThink which used to be the Urban Think bookstore.
Show times are:
December 10 at 8pm
December 11 at 8pm and 10pm
December 12 at 2pm and 8pm
*Doors open 30 mins prior to curtain