Laughs in Spanish

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Mariana, (Marasol Robles), runs an in the Wynwood Arts District in Miami. Art Basel, is a huge week long international art Market, and the stakes are high for her gallery.

When Mariana’s movie-star mother Estella,  Angela Cotto, tries to help out, things get even more complicado. Laughs in Spanish is a fast-paced,  comedy about art and success, and mothers and (lesbian) daughters.

Caro, Mariana’s assistant, (Isabel Bernal) has just graduated with her masters degree in art. The play opens with Maraina discovering that all the art she was going to show at Basel has been stolen. Caro was dating a cop, Juan, Jonathan Gardon. The only option is for Mariana to show Caro’s art at Basel.

The play is largely about forgiveness, family and love. Mariana’s mom Estella,  is larger than life. Her mom became pregnant and had to give up her dreams of one day being a singer. When Estella became pregnant she decided she would never give up on her dreams. She wanted her daughter to know that you can have it all as a mom and a star.

Mariana sacrifice her dreams when she gave up on her art career. She built her career out of selling other artists work. Her love life was on hold until she met a blast from the past, Jenny, Daniella Bloom. Their blossoming romance offered some of the most romantic moments of the play. By the end the play all have found the love they so richly deserve. When the entire cast danced to vibrant salsa music on stage, the audience stood and danced along with a standing ovation. This was a glorious life affirming production.

Portland Trail

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I am searching for a home. One, I called the Umatilla Homestead. I was making plans to turn an   pool into a greenhouse and I wanted to build a col retractable staircase up to the attic which is large enough to house a studio.

Anyway this place was just sold before I made an offer. So I am back to the search. There are several I saw that are habitable, but I want something that sings to me.

Last week Just Jeff started his cross country hike. He will start in Delaware where he will take a quick dip in the Atlantic. He will then hike across America and then jump in the Pacific ocean when he gets to California. The American Discovery Trail is 4,834 miles.  He tends to walk 25 miles a day, so he may be hiking 193 days or 6 to 7 months if he doesn’t stop in communities along the way.

Before he left, he showed me how he packs his bag. I paid close attention to the supplies needed and how to pack them. He used to pack neatly but realized over time that just shoving everything in the pack better utilized the space. I am starting to think that the open trail might be calling my name rather than buying a studio right now. I have camping equipment from my cross country trek way back in the 1980s. The studios I fall in love with seem to sell out from under me before I commit. Maybe it is a sign.

I found am amazing home in Ithica, New York but it is light years from NYC. The chimney if falling apart, but that could be fixed with staples and some ductape. Taxes on that property are over $10,000 a year. Yikes! But it is soooo pretty and built in 1912 so it has tons of character. Once again the place is much bigger than I need at this point in my life. Ithica is supposed to be a community that supports the arts. There are multiple theaters and visual art galleries. It could be a place to reestablish my sketch a day habit starting from scratch. I am searching in all directions for a place to call home.

Animating

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This is a sketch of a Full Sail University student animating. For several years I worked at Full sail in the traditional animation classroom. I mostly got the students up to speed on the computers that shot their work. As student animated, I would sketch. I do not think this traditional animation studio space still exists at Full Sail. We felt it was important for students to understand where the animation principles came from using traditional pencil and paper.

These days I believe students are thrown straight onto the computer and the art of making something come alive by hand is being lost.

The final day of class students had a chance to finish up their animation projects. Instructor, Kathy Blackmore would put on a film and mist students took the time to refine their animation. There are two types of students, those that want to create,and those who want to be entertained. The student in this sketch is a creator. I am drawn to creators, and drawn to life.

Turek Lane Umatilla Florida

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Cheré Carr, my real estate agent arranged for us to see two properties on my list. This property on Turek Lane in Umatilla, Florida has a dock right on a lake. One thing I keep thinking is that it would be nice is a place to launch a kayak.

I had time to do this sketch since Chere was running late. Instead of getting upset, I seized the opportunity to block in a sketch. My pen ran out of ink so I used my brush pen. The brush pen ink bleeds when water color is added. I will replace the ink at some point.

As I was doing this sketch the next door neighbor rode over on his golf cart to see what I was doing. He let me know that the lake has some of the largest bass in central Florida. He tends to catch and release. He has a woodworking workshop and across the street from the place I was looking at he has two goats in a field. They were baaing the whole time I sketched. I thought I heard a shriek of a peacock but he said I must be mistaken.

The landscaping on the property I was looking at was rather barren. There was one lone tree next to the house up front and several small palm trees out back. The front lawn was burnt out. I would want to replace it with a native ground cover. In back I would want to start some raised bed planters to grow vegetables and herbs. I’m sure planters up front would look good as well if tastefully done. What the property needs is a whole lot of lush plants. If course all that would take time. I would also want to replace the shingle roof with a metal roof. The 4 other homes on the dirt road all have metal roofs which can last 70 years.

The dock is rather rickety. The first few boards are rotted through. As I walked out Chere shouted out, “You should leave your sketchbook behind!” I liked her thinking, which was save the sketchbook, and let the artist drown if he wants too. She didn’t dare walk on the rickety dock. Repairing the dock wold be another big project.

There is a small granny shack behind the property. It might be nice as a Air B&B for fishermen. I would seldom use the shack and it would need to be air conditioned to keep out mold. We opened the refrigerator and it was nasty, with tons of black mold. The refrigerator had clearly been unplugged for quite a while. That would have to go.

There is a large sun filled room in the main house that would work great as the studio. Every room smelled of cigarettes. A candle was lit to mask the smell but that didn’t work. Amazingly the place has a root cellar where I could store mason jars full of vegetables and jams.

Surrounding the property is farm land and orange groves. It is an absolute country escape, but my eye is still trained on a bigger homestead not far away.

P.E.A.R. Reserve

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Once back at the Yalaha Studio after the surgery, I was not content to sit around and wait to recover. I was in the yard cutting roots from a giant uprooted tree for firewood and in the afternoon I suggested we all go for a hike at P.E.A.R. Reserve (4800 University Blvd, Leesburg, FL).

My sister Pat was visiting from Port Charlotte and Just Jim was camping out on the back patio after coming from Ohio to see Stella Arbelaez‘s Masters Thesis presentation. The reserve is only about a quarter of a mile from the Yalaha studio, so me piled into Pat’s car and drove over.

Jim is a hard core hiker, so the trail was easy for him, but Pat started getting winded. We paces ourselves to a public bench overlooking the river. Pat and Jim sat on the bench and I moved my art stool closer to a haggard tree which resembled an octopus. The river was perfectly still with yellow and orange leaves floating on the surface. At one point Jim noted that eh river was moving. I glanced up and sure enough the leaves started flowing to the left. I don’t know why but I thought the river should flow right. It turns out the wind was blowing the leaves making it seem like the rives was flowing for a fraction of a second.

Finding order in the chaos of nature is always a challenge. The twisted tree roots offered a definite focal point. It felt nice to get out in the sun and walk. Pat had to admit that she felt better after the hike. Her legs and hips were not as stiff.

While hiking out, I saw a second scene that I definitely want to return to sketch. It was closer to the water with a massive grouping of roots and the sky reflected a much richer blue off the water’s surface. I’ll be back.

Recovery Room

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After my operation where I was essentially neutered like a stray dog with a laser shoved up the old flag pole, my sister Pat Thorspecken -Nepalitano came to visit the Yalaha Studio to take care of me in case anything went south in my recovery. Pat felt I would not be able to get up into the Princess and the Pea bed I usually sleep in. That bed involves stepping up on my flat files to jump up onto the mattress which is about 4 feet off the ground since there are 2 mattresses, a box spring, a bed frame and an extra pillow mat. Stella Arbelaez was off at UCF in Orlando where she is renting a place for convenience near classes, as she works towards her masters degree, and she was kind enough to let me use her bed at the Yalaha Studio, which is much lower, during my recovery. I stripped the beds and remade them both before surgery. I made sure to put protective pads on Stella’s bed just in case I might bleed out in the middle of the night. If I was bleeding I would bleed on my own sheets.

I was told, I might be on narcotics for the pain and my sister brought a walker and a cane, thinking I would not be able to get around. However the only pain medication I was given was over the counter Tylenol and I got around just fine. Instead of being convalescent, I ended up playing the part of the host. I made a lasagna so everyone would have something to eat over the course of the week. There was more than enough food since friends of Stella had dropped off some items and Pat brought several bags of groceries with her from Port Charlotte, Florida.

That weekend I hiked with Pat and Just Jeff at Pear Park (26701 US Hwy 27, Leesburg, Fl) as a way to get out into the sunshine and experience natures healing power. I got a decent sketch at the river on that walk. I also cut off roots from a huge root ball in the side yard of the Yalaha Studio, left over from a fallen tree from hurricane Milton with garden sheers. Jeff dug in and cut off several of the larger roots with a reciprocating saw. We had a fire in the fire pit each night which always calms my nerves.

The room pictured above had a calming effect on me. There was a faux Franklin Furnace and I would turn it on at night and watch the faux flames and the lights that would dance on the walls. The effect was mesmerizing and would instantly put me to sleep. Now that my sister has left, it is quiet again in the Yalaha Studio. I have moved back to the Princess and the Pea bed since I have no problem hopping up. Life has started to return to normal although my insides still feel akimbo like they have been scrambled and have to find their way back home. Instead of lying still, I went to see several more homes yesterday, which might make good studios. Since I am now a tumbleweed, it is hard to figure out where I should settle. Home is where the heart is and I am still searching for it.

Discharge

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I had to spend one day in the hospital to be sure the operation was a success. I woke up hungry.I had not eaten for well over 24 hours. The previous night I vomited any time anyone approached me with food since I had a horrible reaction to the anesthesia. That is how the nurse explained it. In my mind however it might have been the thought that they were offering me hospital food which is notorious for being bad.

On this morning however I ate the scrambled eggs and hash browns like my life depended on it. There were 4 vanilla puddings and I ate them as well. Once done, I waited for the doctor to discharge me. He wanted me to walk the hallways to settle all my scrambled organs. I had to build up what he  called flow. My job for the day was to pee into a container and show the nurse. Once I had urinated enough, I could leave.

When I woke up I was attached to a catheter. That is a plastic tube shoved up my flag pole and urine would leak out the tube into a round plastic bag hanging from the side of the bed. My urine was blood tinged. Not pure thick blood red but watered down resembling strawberry Kool-Aid. I also had on lower leg wraps which were heated and they vibrated massaging my legs. I really liked those, and was sad to leave then behind. As I was waiting much later in the day, I put them back on just because I liked the sensation.

I walked the hallway while holding my IV bag full of bloody urine. The back of the bag was opaque, so I turned that side outward so as not to shock the other patients in their rooms. There was a score board to count laps and I think I did about 15 laps around the ward. I just wanted to be sure I was winning on the score board. I was a man with a mission. The catheter was taped to my let so that there wasn’t too much tension pulling on my James Dean as I walked. I kept my hand on that tape as I walked to be sure it stayed in place.

The doctor came in to remove the catheter. I dreaded the process. He approached my business nonchalantly with scissors. I shut my eyelids hard as he snipped a bulb off a plastic tube. Then with one quick yank he pulled the tube out of me. It is like ripping off a band aid. the faster you do it the less time you have to react in horror. I was also removed from the IVs at 6am. I was now free to move about. It was strange not being concerned with tubes hanging out of me.

I drank bottle after bottle of water but only an agonizing blood red dribble leaked out of me in the bathroom. Maybe the escape tunnel had collapsed. My sister Pat called and she was on her way to the hospital to pick me up. I let her know it could be some time, but she insisted. I drank many more bottles of water, while she and I chatted on the couch. It seemed any time the nurse came to check on me I was in the bathroom. Pat relayed the messages. Finally I started peeing like a race horse. The burning was still there but less so. By the time the doctor approved my discharge, the sun was about to set.

Pat drove back to Yalaha, with Just Jim navigating. I lay in the back seat. I managed to last the whole drive back without having to take a pit stop. That in itself was a miracle. Back at the studio, I discovered that someone had stolen my iPhone charger from the hotel room. The charger was held together with black electrical tape so it wasn’t a great loss. Amazingly my wallet was untouched. Pt found me a new charger the next day at Dollar General.

My sister Pat was staying at the studio for a few days to be sure nothing went south.

Post Op

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There was a Post Operation room I went to at Orlando Health Central on West Colonial Drive in Ocoee. That is the hospital that looks like a clown school. When I woke up from anesthesia, I was relieved to see that KC Cali was there. Her joking snapped me awake with laughter. I was slurring my words but it was good to have a friend to talk to. My general impression was that the operation went as planned. The doctor and then KC filled me in on the details.

As the doctor described it, a laser had been guided up my penis and it was inserted into the prostate. The outer edges of the inside of the prostate were pealed much like an orange and then the instrument was shoved like a finger into an orange to separate the sections. The prostate was sucked out from the core outward. All this was done deep inside my pelvis, I thought there would be more pain, but I was just given a Tylenol.

Soon I was wheeled up to the room and KC sat on the couch keeping me engaged and entertained. Nurse after nurse entered taking vitals and introducing themselves. There was a convenient board at the foot of the bed on the wall with names and numbers and a description of the procedure, which was removing my prostate.

I hadn’t eaten for over 24 hours. I was hooked up to the IVs which helped hydrate me a bit. Then a nurse wheeled in a table of food which fits over the bed I was lying in. I looked at it and hesitated. I was hungry, but also my head started swimming. I took deep breaths. I felt like I might faint. Also on the table with the food were foot long blue plastic tubes. Those were like airline barf bags. I grabbed one quickly and retched, filling it half up. There was nothing in my stomach but water, but even that feels awful coming up. KC jumped up from the couch and helped and disposed of the blue tube. Soon a nurse was checking on me and I was given a pill which I was told would stop the nausea. KC chatted with me for a while and I started to feel better. I decided to try some food again and the nurse wheeled the table over my belly. I grabbed a blue tube and immediately retched again. The nurse explained that I was having a bad reaction to the anesthesia. I wretched about 4 times.

KC was a saint through all this and managed to keep me in high spirits. A much stronger anti nausea drug was pumped directly into the IV bag. I started to feel better but now the drug was making me tired. I gave up on the notion of food. KC read me a long list of events happening in Upstate New York. The one I remember best was goat racing with snow shoes. Now that is the sketch opportunity I have always dreamed of! Maybe I am imagining that, I was in a sort of fever dream. My eye lids were getting heavy and KC quietly slipped away when I drifted off. It is rare to find a friend like this.

The sketch above was done the next morning. KC had told me that I would not get much sleep and she was right. About every half hour a nurse would come in and ask questions and take  some vital sign. I dropped back to sleep immediately after each nurse left and the next morning I felt good enough to sketch. Pigeons roosted right above my room window, I could see then swoop in and arch up to land. Some of them pooped on the landing approach and splashed the window.

This would prove to be a long day to see if the operation had been a success or a failure.

PRE-Op

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My urethra was being choked off by my prostate. Because of this I would have to pee every half hour or so and could not sleep through the night. Worst, I couldn’t sit through and complete a sketch. It became unbearable. The prostate produces the fluids for male ejaculations. I decided to get an operation that would remove the prostate. I would no longer be able to have children but I would recover some normalcy to my life.

KC Cali volunteered to be my Health Care Surrogate for the operation. She had been through several harrowing hospital experiences with her husband Bob Szafranski, so she had experience with doctors and the hospital system. Having her join me was the smartest thing I did going into surgery. My sister Pat Thorspecken-Napolitano drove up from Port Charlotte to drive me to the hospital and back. Just Jeff who was in Yalaha from Ohio to see Stella Arbelaez‘s UCF Masters Thesis Presentation joined us to help Pat drive back to Yalaha. He was a huge help. KC was driving from a different direction and we met her in front of the hospital.

Security and reception were fairly simple and then we went to the second floor. There I was separated from my Health Care Surrogate. The whole point of having KC there was to have a second set of eyes and ears going into the process. Before I signed away my life on the three long forms, I took pictures of those forms and sent them to KC to see if she had second thoughts. Once you read that Death might be one of the side effects, you start to have second thoughts. Once those forms were filled out and collected, KC could come back to my Pre-Op cubicle.

First thing I had to do was get dressed in the hospital garb, which included a gown which was incredibly complicated with snaps and belts. It might have actually been a straight jacket. There were knee high garters I had to wear that were insanely tight. They were to protect against blood clots during the operation. KC had to explain how to put them on by rolling them up like women’s stockings. After that she disappeared behind the curtain for the sake of my privacy. Socks had rubber strips on then to avoid slipping in the hallways. Lying on the gurney helped hide the fact that my butt cheeks wanted to escape the open flaps out back.

A barrage of tests followed, blood pressure tests, a heart rate monitor on the tip of my finger and a hook up for an IV. KC had the genius idea that I should ask for the IV on my left hand so my right hand remained free to sketch. Once snuggled under the blanket on the gurney, I started sketch as did KC. It turns out my new fountain pen bleeds when water color washes were added to the sketch. I had to live with it. My other fountain pen was out of ink.

Then doctor Amin who was performing the operation, nurses, the anesthetist, and  a barrage of other techs each came in one at a time to ask questions. As my nervousness rose, KC kept me amused and entertained with her stories and my sketching calmed me down. Soon I was given a mild sedative. I was told that I might not remember anything that happened. KC was the last person I saw as I was drifting off. I said, “Who are you?” She smiled and I was out immediately. When I opened my eyes, KC was there in a differed Post Op area. I was slurring my words but the pain was minimal.

Yalaha Bakery

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I decided to start hiking from the Yalaha Studio to explore and sketch. The Yalaha Bakery is Yalaha’s only tourist attraction. The great thing is that is only across the street from the entrance to the community my studio now inhabits.

Traffic on 48 the road the bakery is on is intense but I got used to it during the walk. Stella told me that during bike week this place gets insanely packed with motor cycles. I plan to return to do a series of sketches on that week. I have been inside the bakery twice now. The first time I had strudel which is delicious and the second time I had a coconut delight and it was life changing. It takes every ounce of will power to keep me from hiking across the road every day to experience that taste sensation once again. I just told my sister Pat that if I am in extreme pain after my surgery today, she should get a Coconut delight and I am certain that any pain will disappear.

Today I can not have breakfast and bloody hell I desperately want to make a scrambled egg on to of a butter slathered toasted Thomas’s muffin. Maybe I shouldn’t write about it since it seems to be making me more hungry. I’ll go have a cup of water that should hold me until I am put under anesthesia. Anyway today waiting for surgery should be a good sketching experience. I have a mini sketch kit in my day bag. I will be in the hospital overnight so that must be a sketch opportunity. I heard nurses come in every half hour to draw blood or get blood pressure so that could be many sketch opportunities.