Still Life

Posted on by Thor

I had a long discussion with a friend about the freedom of making a mess when painting. With oils, I focus on the subtle colors in the mid values by painting areas repeatedly with varying colors. Figuring out how to coach someone to make a mess is a challenge.

I suggested doing a Still Life but completing the painting in an hour or two. Since I had offered the suggestion, I decided to get out my old oils and do a quick painting myself.

My old oil tubes were covered in a sticky slick film. Making a mess became quite literal as I struggled to open each tube. Lids were screwed tight. I had to use my teeth as pliers to get them open. My hands got covered in oil paint repeatedly and I managed to get a dab of red on my nice green shirt. What was I thinking wearing a nice shirt?

It took about about half an hour to block the painting in. I spent the rest of the time adjusting colors repeatedly. I was trying to coach my student on the notion that painting is fun, but lets face it painting is hard work. About half way into the painting I did relax since at least things were recognizable. The mail goal of this painting was to make a mess and at that I succeeded. My main lesson was to make a mess and move on to the next.

As far as the subject, I didn’t give it much thought. I woke up and at first organized some fruit in a bowl. I wasn’t satisfied. I added pitchers and jugs but it all seemed too complex. Finally I just pulled a chair away from the table and put a skull on it. With my operation pending, going over my Will, Living Trust and Health Surrogate documents, this simple subject seemed on point.

Airport Slumber

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On a trip to Chicago there was a bit of a layover at the Orlando International Airport. I like sketching in airports, exhausted rubes, I mean, passengers make good models as they doze off to a fitful sleep.

I am resurrecting sketches from a very old sketchbook which was started before I began my sketch a day practice.  Executed in pencil, I rather like the line quality compared to the ink lines I put down with my broken fountain pen today. I want to buy a new sailor fountain pen, I should do that this afternoon while I am thinking about it.

I am starting work on theater posters this week so there probably will not be many Yalaha Florida sketches in the works. Since moving up this way I am ting to figure out how to reschedule my days so that I get location sketches done in the morning and then teach in the late afternoons.

With a surgery coming up I might face 4 to 10 weeks of post operation recovery. I assume that will mean no heavy lifting. I don’t know what that will mean in terms of sketching. I need to call today and set up that surgery date. It is a frightening prospect and my stomach knots just thinking about it. Getting older sucks. Or as Bette Davis said “Old age ain’t for sissies.“

Student Lounge, Full Sail

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This is a sketch done outside the 2D animation studio that used to exist at Full Sail University. Kathy Blackmore built this 2D animation studio to give students a grasp of the 12 principles of animation using pencil and paper before they started using computers.

Kathy hired me after meeting me at SIGRAPH, a computer animation conference in LA. Kathy and Sam Ewing would give the lectures and my job was to assist students with technical issues as they shot their drawings. There were always technical issues as students got used to the equipment.  After several years I had to leave Full Sail because the salary barely covered the cost of gas to drive to work.

On the wall of the student lounge were framed DVDs of the movies that graduates of the program had worked on. With all the digital tools available to artists today, you don’t have to wait to be part of a huge team  working on a blockbuster film. You can make a film for a very select audience right from home.

Fast Food Mart

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This is a sketch of the entrance to a housing development in  in Lake County Florida. This little Fast Food Mart has the best price for gas in the area, so this is where I tank up my Prius after long road trips back and forth to Orlando. The owners of this mini mart must be doing pretty good since they have a large house down by the lake with a large pool. 48 is the busy road in front of the Mini Mart and it is challenging turning into Sun Eden the development since there isn’t much of a turn off lane and most traffic is going 55 miles per hour. I almost missed the turn the first time I drove into the development and thought I might slam into the community sign but I braked hard as I swerved right.

After the move I realized a large table I had, just didn’t work in the studio space. An artist I know had IKEA shelving that wasn’t assembled yet and it was a much better solution. I will have to get the same shelving the next time I move. It is hard letting go of something that has worked so well in the past. To save weight when I was packing the uHaul to move out of the Chatswoth studio, I left one piece of the table behind. It was a large slab of metal that extended down the middle of the table between the sets of legs. I figured I would have more space to store stuff under the table without that metal piece in the way. Well, when I reassembled the table as the Lake County Studio  it wobbled like a drunken sailor. Without that metal support the table was useless.

Rather than have the heavy and solid table go to land fill, a short video and posted it on a community site. The table was free to anyone who wanted to pick it up. I kept it in my Prius.  As I was driving to the landfill, a couple expressed interest to the online posting, and arrangements were made to meet in the mini mark lot. I parked near the air pressure station, which I couldn’t get to work. The table exchange happened like a clandestine drug deal but in broad daylight. It felt good knowing the table would have a new life probably sporting antiques or flea market goods.

I made a similar mistake with my Disney Feature Animation table. I left behind the heavy metal hardware that is used for adjusting the angle of the flat desk surface. I figured I don’t use any other angle that lying the desk flat to support my computers, so I could just hammer in some supports myself and spare myself the heavy hardware. It was a stupid decision and I rushed back to Orlando the next day to recover the hardware. Thankfully it hadn’t been removed. On the lawn it looked a bit like a lizard with a large square head. It took me hours to assemble, but I am glad the integrity of the desk remains intact.

Umatilla Homestead

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This last Sunday, Cheré Carr, my local real estate broker took me to see three homes. We returned to the Howie Mission Studio since I wanted to just find out if the road noise was an issue. I considered planting more bamboo to dampen the noise, but having 18 wheeler’s drive by all day would be an issue for my peace of mind.

The second place she took me to was this gem in Umatilla. This home was built in 1913 and every aspect of it is an antique gem. The place has 3 beds, 2 baths and 1,761 square feet. That is whole lot of space for a single guy like me who really just lives at the Disney Desk each day, writing articles and doing digital paintings. It also has a pool which is turning rather green since it has ducks who like to swim in it. When I was married, it was my job as the husband to take care of the pool chemicals and keep it clean. I got good at it but sometimes things could go out of wack. It it really a several hour job every weekend. I never swam in the pool but I always used the hot tub to wind down, and this Umatilla homestead had a hot tub as well. If I were to buy, I am thinking about converting the pool into a sunken garden, by adding steps, paths and a whole lot of soil and compost. That would take time.

The front porch has white columns which it turns out are palm trunks painted white. I love the texture look of them. The place I would most likely set up my art studio is on the left side of the house where there is a sun room that connects to the wrap around porch.  It might be a light filled space, but there were curtains and a large Recreational vehicle was parked right there in the driveway and it blocked the light in to the room. There is an empty lot to the right of the house and believe it or not that extra land comes with the home. There is tons of space to start a vegetable garden or leave it open to let the dogs run around, not that I have one yet. Combined with home property, there is almost an acre of land. I have to look at what taxes are like and what home insurance is like in Umatilla. The garden had well water for watering the pants and the house had city water. Raised beds for that area was my first thought, but all these plans require plenty of work. The other thought is that right now all that land is covered with grass which requires constant mowing. To me grass is a weed needing constant care. I prefer ground covers and native plants that thrive.

The garage has been converted into a workspace, which I love. The back roof of the garage needs some work, since a back porch area overhang is starting to sag. The wood is giving way. The back yard had a large storage shed and believe it or not, a stage. The stage isn’t opulent but since I sketch arts and culture all the time, I should be able to convince some performers to stage their work here. For one person it is all a bit much, but if I invite in artist residents, it could become a vibrant artist hub. To truly embrace this huge place I have to dream really big. Perhaps someday I will meet someone who wants to build a life together, but for now I am just pioneering my way towards a new hope on my own.

Cheré took me to see a third property which didn’t inspire me at all after seeing the Umatilla Homestead. There was a tiny gnome door in one of the ground floor closets and inside there were cigarette butts and other refuge on what was the original wood flooring now dirty and decayed. The neighborhood itself felt run down. It seemed black and white paint was thrown over every surface. A gorgeous stone fireplace was painted pitch black. That place depressed me. I drove back to Umatilla to sketch, lighten my mood, and dream.

 

Orlando Urban Sketchers at Stemma Craft Coffee

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I drove down to Orlando to sketch with the Orlando Urban Sketchers group in Stemma Coffee (328 North Orange Avenue, Orlando FL). I like to go to the coffee and draw events since they are in the morning and my evenings are always full from virtual teaching.

I was running late since I had not considered the effect of rush hour traffic getting into downtown Orlando. When I entered this core group were well into their sketches. I ordered a Latte and a chocolate chip cookie. This group of three tables was full so I looked around for another vantage point from which to sketch. At the next table were two woman and an open chair. One woman was on her laptop, so probably not an Urban Sketcher. I asked if I could sit in the seat across from her. As I sat, I suddenly realized the woman next to her was very familiar. It was KC Cali. I have known KC since 2009 when I first started doing one sketch a day. I did a sketch of her when she worked with the police horses. I have a sketch of her grooming a police horse named Peanut. That was in the earliest sketch book of my daily sketch series. I have since filled two shelves full of such sketchbooks. I was so happy to see her.

We spent much of the next several hours catching up. I sketched at her wedding to Bob about 9 years ago. I remember because it was shortly after the Pulse Nightclub shooting. It was also at the time of my separation. KC never holds back discussing life’s challenges and rewards. As always I could tell her anything, and there was plenty to unload. Ironically she and Bob have been looking at property in Upstate New York but much higher up than I have been looking. The furthest north home I fell in love with was at Hastings on the Hudson. It was a gorgeous old place with an amazing rustic back yard full of plantings, and the ground floor was already set up as an artist studio in the Zillow photos. Unfortunately that place was sold out before I had a chance to see it in person.

The Urban sketching group finished up long before I was finished with my sketch. I was so focused on what KC was telling me. All the sketchbooks were lined up on the tables and photos were taken of the sketches and then the group. I was so happy KC and her friend lingered after everyone else rushed off. It felt more Parisian for us to savor the moment.

I am having a rather serious operation next month that will involve staying overnight in a hospital. Amazingly KC offered to bring me to and from that surgery. She has had to deal with doctors who mishandled treatment of several family members and she knows what can go south. I immediately trusted her judgement and I want to be sure she gets to know all the medical details while I am anesthetized. KC really is one of the oldest friends I have in Orlando and now I literally trust her with my life. Her husband, Bob, arrived as KC and I we were finishing our sketches. Bob has an eye patch and a magnificent grey beard. He bragged and joked about how medical staff treat KC with absolute respect. His light hearted joking further cemented my trust that I have a true advocate in KC.

As we bundled up to leave, I paused outside the Coffee Shop  and watched Bob and KC walk away. They were holding hands and leaning close to one another talking on that chilly morning. My heart melted. Love and affection are something worth fighting for. I wrote this on the day I posted the sketch of their wedding, “It is reassuring to see a couple reach out to each other once again, putting their faith and hopes in marriage. Life is short. We all need to believe in the power of love.” I am getting old and sentimental, or perhaps I always have been.

Porsche Road Rats Rally

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An artist friend suggested we go to sketch a Porsche Road Rats Rally going at Bountiful Farms (27314 County Road 33, Okahumpka, FL). The event was almost over, so we had to rush to get there. I reasoned that men would still be talking about their fancy engines, and chrome with hoods open long after the closing time for the event.

In part, I was right. There is a small outdoor cafe called Bountiful’s Bestro, under a giant 300 year old live oak on the property. The outdoor seating was crowded, presumably full of Porsche owners bragging about their cars speed and many modifications. My ex wife used to drive a Porsche so I know that speed is everything. My artist friend set up near her car to sketch the cafe and huge tree, and I wandered over to sketch the Porches parked on the grass parking lot.

As I sketched, car owner after car owner walked to their car and drove off. A distant Porsche had the car owner come out and open the hood. He showed his engine to a friend. I had to stop sketching when it started to rain. At that point every car owner rushed over and drove off. I went back to find Stella and she was still sketching. We decided to head over to a small fresh market where we brought some produce. I wanted to get some cucumbers since I had recently picked some in a field nearby. The woman behind the counter explained that cucumbers were out of season, which I suppose was true since the crop was now in supermarkets rather than in the fields. There is a weekend farmers market that happens on Bountiful Farms and my friend discussed the possibility of having art for sale at the market. I will have to return to sketch that farmers market some weekend.

By the time we left the fresh market it had stopped raining. We then had a fantastic soup and grilled cheese sandwich lunch under the gorgeous live oak. We had the place to ourselves. The waitress kept offering us free Cokes since we were creating art, but in the end we paid. Despite the brief rain, it was a great outing. We both wished we had spent more time sketching, but it is the experience that counts not how polished the sketch looks. My friend’s sketch of the Bistro and live oak is really good and could easily be finished some weekend. My sketch, as usual is a panicked mess.

Impotent or Important

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Today I went in for a Cystoscopy which involved shoving a camera up my penis to view my giant prostrate. The camera is in this sketch on the lower left, It was hooked up to an iPad so the doc could show me the incredible journey to the obstruction.

A nurse walked me back to the room and asked me questions with a sing song voice. At first it seemed condescending, but then it became reassuring since clearly this all was just procedure and had been done many times before. Her job was to ask a few questions and then ask me to undress. My 3 layers of jackets had to come off to get my blood pressure which was normal. It was freezing cold outside. Then she asked me to take off my pants, underwear and wrap a white paper gown around my waste. I kept my warm socks on. There was another strip of white paper with a hole in it for my meat puppet to poke through. She left to let me undress in private. Once on the mechanical throne I started sketching. I knew most everything would change position, so I worked in pencil.

Two female nurses entered the room. As I suspected, their job was to numb me downstairs. The chair I was in began to tilt waaaay back with a mechanical moan. I bunched up the little pillow under my head so I could keep looking down towards my feet. I wanted to see my shy member uncovered, and numbed, but all the crumpled paper gown in my lap blocked my view. One nurse said, I am going to touch you now. She grabbed the head and shaft poking through the hole in the paper gown, and immediately began injecting Lanacane into the mouth of the beast. HOLY SHIT! It BURNED! I curled my toes and restrained myself from slapping her hand away from Sam wise. The pain just kept coming in waves, as she kept injecting the fluid deep into the orifice. When the two nursed left, I regained some composure and started sketching again in ink. My thighs were wet with Lanacane.

It took quite a while for the doctor to enter, I managed to get most of the line work done on the sketch. When he did enter, the real adventure of pain began. The evil scope was immediately shoved up into my penis. My penis was numb, but deep inside I felt everything. Every muscle inside my body clamped down tight. As I writhed in pain he told me to breath deep and imagine that I was peeing. That advice helped. Through out this process I could not sketch. My eyelids were clamped down hard in pain. He joked about how large the prostrate was, as if he had never seen one quite so large. He said, the Cystoscope was shoved in right up to the hilt.  He tilted the iPad towards me so I could see the small slit that was the only egress for urine from my bladder. He said any time I went to the bathroom only half of the liquid in my bladder could make its way out. A reading of 128 meant that 95% of people had a healthier urinary system than me. When he pulled the camera out of me, Lanacane and other fluids gushed out. There was a small portable toilet behind the throne of torture and he let me dismount and pee.

Then came the back door entrance. A Vaseline covered finger thrust up towards my prostrate and then more imaging was done with an ultrasound device. My prostrate is supposed to be the size of a small chestnut but now it is bigger than a softball. That huge growth reduces the size of my bladder by half. The doctor’s plan is to remove all of the prostate with a laser which will once again be shoved up inside my penis. After that operation, I will no longer be able to have children. Sex and orgasm will be possible but I will never again ejaculate. I actually opened myself up to the possibility of having a child in January of last year. That was a fleeting moment. Now, it is more important that I can hold my bladder for several hours while I finish a sketch.

For the big operation I will be out cold under general anesthesia. I will have to stay in the hospital overnight with who knows what hanging out of the mouth of Shrunken Sam. I was told a nurse would call me and give me exercises that I should do before the operation. Perhaps my penis will need to do Jumping Jacks or Push Ups. What ever is needed, he will be trained and ready. Though I joke about the operation, it is terrifying to imagine a laser disintegrating a softball sized growth from inside my bladder. Is that even possible? It seems like my body and all aspects of my life are struggling to regain balance as I search for a new life moving forward.

Waiting for a Cystoscopy

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I drove down to Orlando Health for a Cystoscopy which is an outpatient procedure where a camera is inserted up the penis to look at the prostate.

The drive down was quite pleasant with open country and many country cabins with metal roofs much like I have been searching for. I allowed for extra time since it was rush hour, but there was no rush hour on the roads I drove on.

In the waiting room there were a few other patients. I recognized their faces from the last time I had been to the office. The guy in the back row was always on the phone talking business. I was sitting on the opposites side of the room which was empty since the TV was above my head. A program was on about a young couple buying a home in Maui. They had to keep the budget under a million dollars. I felt bad for them having to settle for a place where the bedroom had a view of whales swimming buy. Maybe I should move to Maui, I bet no one has a swollen prostate there. No I don’t think it is in my budget, unless I find some wreck of a place on the rim of an active volcano. But think of the views before being burnt to a cinder. I did go to Maui during the making of Lilo and Stitch, and there are lovely homes with metal roofs and chickens in the yard.

A nurse came in and let us all know that there was a delay since a patient before us had complications. Dear god, what kind of complications? Was I about to experience similar complications? Should I sneak my way towards the door? The couple in front of me was called in first. They never returned. Then I was called in. It took me a while to pack up my art supplies. When I am in a nervous rush the supplies have a habit of refusing to go back in the bag. I eventually had to stand up with a paint rag dangling out of the mouth of the bag like a colorful tongue. I walked towards the nurse. I am sure everyone was thinking the same thing, “dead man walking.”

Committing to Cremation

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Some junk mail arrived at the Lake County Studio that offered a free Italian meal to attend a seminar hosted by the National Cremation Society.

I arrived a few minuted late and everyone else had ordered. I had expected a crowded room with a large screen Power Point presentation, but instead I found the presenter George and two women from The Villages. George had the 3 audience members across from him, so it wasn’t an ideal situation to sketch everyone. I focused on George. I had just learned about the “Loofah Code” at the Villages and desperately wanted to ask the women about it but the topic was death and ashes, so I held my tongue.

George was pleasant and informative. He once worked at Meryll Lynch in the twin towers in NYC. A friend of his was supposed to be in the Twin Towers on the day of the terrorist attack. The meeting was held at a nearby building instead and because of that his friend survived.

Did you know that 57% of burials these days are cremations? Cremation is a more affordable option since there are no expensive hearses or large brick and mortar funeral homes, the upkeep is just to keep a furnace running. From the start I was offered a form where I could commit to cremation which would lock in the price and save any loved ones from having to make plans about what to do with my body. If there is no will and no plans in place, then the body becomes the property of the state and is held in cold storage for months before becoming part of a mass cremation. None of this should of course concern me, since I would be dead. I loved that the woman seated next to me referred to herself in the third person as, “the body.”

Also offered was “the freedom to go with confidence.” This plan cost about $600. If I were to die while traveling in a foreign country, my remains would have to be repatriated back to America which could cost $11,000 and would involve lots of red tape for family. The Cremation Society would handle all documentation and diplomatic issues in getting the body back home. Local Cremation services would run about $2,800, and that includes an alternative cardboard container, packaging, and the shipping of ashes!

This was a lot to think about as I ate my ham and cheese hoagie with onion rings. Everyone else had ordered together and they all had salads. They finished well before me since my right hand was busy sketching. They left and I remained behind alone to finish the sketch in progress and half of my sandwich.