Limit (ed/less)

Posted on by Thor

I made my way to an industrial complex in Pinecastle where Limit (ed/less), Directed by McClaine Timmerman, was holding a rehearsal. This show will include modern dance, multi media, and spoken word exploring the limitations and limitless realities of our daily lives. What a perfect way to bring in the new year brushing away past regrets and striving towards a limitless future.

It was after dark when I arrived, and the building looked ominous and deserted. I searched for the “A” unit where the rehearsal was to take place. A black truck was running, parked in front of the entrance. As I walked around it, the brake lights went on and I was afraid it might back up into me. As I walked past the passenger door, I heard someone say my name. Brittany Wine was in the drivers seat. She let me know that McClaine hadn’t arrived yet. I sat in my artists seat, leaned against the building and took a phone call. McClaine and all the dancers seemed to arrive all at once. Inside was a typical office building. Rehearsal was held in a large empty conference room.

The show has a cast of eight with Jimmy being the only guy. The women dancers warmed up and stretched behind four movable panels of bars. What followed was a quick walk through of the show. Scenes weren’t acted out, they all were just piecing the show together paying attention to the overall flow. Then dancers changed and they began a full run of the show. This was the first time all the dancers were together. At first everyone walked on stage, questioning to themselves their lot in life. They froze in shapes of thoughtful contemplation, searching for memories. As each dancer in turn stood center stage and spoke of hope or questioned courage. Dale moved swiftly, a space eater. Two dancers performed a pained piece where they mused that perhaps, “It didn’t happen.” They didn’t ask for it to happen. The dance expressed deep regret and pain. I welled up, my mind shifting to a horrible incident that I had heard about.

I was thankful when humor flooded the next scene. The four panels enclosed the cast in a tight elevator and each persons inner dialogue played on a sound track as you could read their subtle expressions. They were uncomfortably close. Kim grimaced when Jimmy brushed her hand. Had someone not bathed? Who farted? A romantic solo dance in a blue dress with tons of tool was charming. The dancer just wanted to be wanted. There was humor in the way she expressed that she would be missed. Would she be remembered?

McClaine and Jimmy Moore sat center stage as an established couple. Tall white letters spelled “LOVE” on her black T-shirt. She wanted him to express his inner feelings to her and quite simply he didn’t get it. She felt like she was having a conversation alone. How often have I been there. They both read. She asked him to massage her knee. As he did, a tall leggy dancer in a form fitting black dress asked him for a light. She flirted and his head turned to watch her walk away. Again and again, beautiful dancers in leopard print got his attention. Looking up from her magazine McClaine asked, “Why are you sweating?”

McClaine Timmerman is a master at being able to express a universal inner yearning using modern dance and spoken word. A solo dance she performed in which she struggled against the constraints of a corset seemed to me to be the signature dance of the show. In a struggle, laces were loosened and in spoken word she mused about freedom to change and yet wanting to keep the unfailing consistency of her identity. In dance, she reached out in supplication. She threw off her period high heals but in the end, sitting like a rag doll, she reached behind her and tightened the corset back up. This is a raw honest show that pushes the limits of what can be expressed through dance.

Performance Dates:
January 13th 8pm
January 14th 8pm
January 15th 2pm

Location:
Orlando Rep Theater (The Black Box)
1001 East Princeton St
Orlando Fl 32803

Tickets:
$15 cash or check only
call or email McClaine for reservations (not required)
407-721-3617 mrougemac@me.com

Flat Mountain Men

Posted on by Thor

Every Monday from six to ten in the evening, the Audubon Community Market is held in the parking lot in front of Stardust Video & Coffee. On this particular evening I was going to be able to see the first run of 2012 Ourlando Calendars hot off the press. Julie Norris who did an amazing job designing the calenders had yet to see the calendars as well. A table was going to be set up in the market to sell the calendars. I spotted Julie and her daughter, Maya, at the Big Wheel food truck. I ordered a stuffed avocado dish and then joined Julie and Maya inside Stardust to eat. The avocado was delicious. Emily Rankin entered Stardust carrying a heavy box. She split the tape seal and cracked it open. Inside were the first 50 calendars. Julie and I each grabbed a calendar and started flipping through. I was happy to see the final product but I felt uneasy. The colors were more saturated and darker than I would have liked. I held my tongue, then Julie said, “What do you think?” I had to admit my concern and she agreed.

We were on a tight deadline to have the calendars ready for the holidays. The rest of the printing run was on hold till the morning while the printer ran another job. An employee was at the printer so I drove there to be sure the rest of the print run wasn’t as dark. A sample calender had been printed 10% less dark. I decided it was good enough. I then drove back to Stardust to sign some calendars and enjoy the music. Julie was leaving because Maya was tired. Emily was at the table selling the calendars and I signed a few before sketching the Flat Mountain Men. The parking lot stage consisted of a card table with an inverted cowboy hat and a stool. The music was rustic home spun fun. Folding tables were set up in front of the band where people came to sit and enjoy their food and the music. The two women seated right in front had known the musicians ever since high school. The band played “Walking the Tightrope” as the sky grew dark and the evening cooled.

Terry’s Office

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After a day of searching for Citrus Floats, I decided to meet Terry at her new office at Merrill Lynch. The firm is located on the eighth floor and Terry’s office has a view of the new Amway Center. Terry was one of maybe four or five employees who were in the office between Christmas and New Years. Terry looked up a press release on the computer for me and then went back to work. Amanda Chadwick said she had something planned that she wanted to do that night. She wanted to keep the destination a secret from Terry. We all decided to meet at a Mexican Burrito joint on Colonial.

After dinner, we all piled into Amanda’s car to first pick up Mark Baratelli and then go to the final destination. On the drive south on I-4 we passed the neon rainbow studded Bungee Sling Shot on International Drive. We convinced Terry that was the destination but Terry insisted she would keep her feet on the ground. A “Screaming Gator” zip line adventure over the teaming swamps around Gator Land elicited the same response. Our true destination however was Disney. Amanda was concerned for my mental health, fearing I might experience flashbacks. Mark had a season pass which got us into parking for free.

We took the Monorail to the Polynesian Hotel where wWe sampled some pineapple slushies, called Doles, before heading out to the beach. There we sat on wet beach lounges and waited for the fireworks over the Magic Kingdom. Boats on the lagoon kept honking their horns and we screamed back at then to “Keep it down.” It’s not like there is any traffic on the lagoon. The fireworks were stunning, with Saturns, cascading waterfalls and immense blooms. The piped in music was faint and the explosions came long after the flash catching us off guard.

After the display we began a quest for hot chocolate and soft serve ice cream. There were plenty of photo opportunities with the huge Coronado Christmas tree. We laughed endlessly as we searched the Coronado Springs Resort. As Mark put it, “Its not the journey that is important, it’s the destination.” The drive back had us all singing like Young Frankenstein to pop hits on the car radio.

Fresh from Florida Parade

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I woke up late on Saturday morning and realized I had to rush downtown to catch the parade formerly known as the Citrus Bowl Parade. I knew where the parade assembled since I had sketched the police horses the prior year. I parked north of Lake Eola and walked to Orange Avenue. I could hear the college bands playing as I approached. A lanky man walked up behind me and said, “Looks like you got the best seat for the parade.” “Well it’s the cheapest.” I replied. He started complaining about how the parades name had changed. “They always have to fix things that aren’t broke.” He said. He broke off to head south.

I wanted to sketch the assembly area since folks would be standing still waiting for the parade to start, which makes sketching much easier. A Nebraska band stood in bright red and white uniforms. Majorettes practiced twirling their batons. It was a warm beautiful day. I’m sure they were glad to be removed from the cold Nebraska planes. Since I was late, I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to sketch a whole band. I needed to find something bigger, bolder and less likely to march away.

I started to sketch people holding Macy’s balloon styled “Power Ball” red orbs, but then the parade started to move. They walked away. I erased them and walked a block back to start the next sketch. Old cars caught my eye along with women on stilts. Who can resist sketching women dressed up as candy canes on stilts. They were on a side road waiting for their turn to get on the parade route. I soon realized these were all performers from Universal Studios.

Bands marched loudly by. Shriner’s in mini automobile go-carts buzzed around in circles in the intersection. The police horses clomped through the intersection but they weren’t in the parade this year. They must have just been there for crowd control. When the parade had past me, a street cleaner immediately got to work brushing it’s way north up Orange Avenue. I realized I hadn’t had breakfast. I ordered a hot dog from a vendor across from the Court House. Being in the staging area, I got to see the whole parade and I wasn’t in a crowd that could block my view. As I walked back to my car I could see where the parade was ending. People had paid $23 to sit in bleachers and the intersection was mobbed with people. I wasn’t tempted to shove my way in.

Citrus Floats

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I spent an afternoon searching for the spot where volunteers rubber band thousands of citrus fruits onto wire meshes to create the floats for what was formerly the Citrus Bowl Parade. The new name of the parade is the “Fresh from Florida Parade.” I heard volunteers would be working feverishly at the old Amway Arena. I went there assuming the floats would be inside the Arena. I was surprised to see that the Arena was surrounded by chain link fencing and it is considered a construction site. lt turns out the Arena is being demolished to make way for a Creative Village. The interior is now being demolished, and the building is slated to be rigged with explosives and will implode in March of 2012. I walked around the fenced in Arena. A security guard in the parking lot asked if I was going to the game. “No.” I replied. “I’m looking for volunteers working of floats.” He directed me to the opposite side of the Arena. A huge crowd was gathered in a line going through a security check point. They were being scanned for explosives by the Department of Homeland Security and local police. “This is a rather big fuss for a few floats.” I thought. This turned out to be parking for the college football game happening at the Citrus Bowl. People had to go through security before getting on a bus to the Bowl Game.

I hiked down to the new Amway Center searching for floats as well. No luck. I visited Terry at her downtown office and she located a press release online. It turned out the floats would be at the Amway Arena the next day. At least I got plenty of exercise. So the next day, I hiked to the Arena and I could see the bright orange and yellow citrus peaking through the foliage around the parking lot from a block away. I settled under a shady oak and sketched. I had expected more floats. Volunteers were still securing fruit to the wire mesh with rubber bands but the floats looked pretty complete. The construction had occurred for two days at the Convention Center. They were then driven to the Arena for final touch up before the parade the next day. I wondered what roads they must have driven. Did they scream up I-4 at 55 miles per hour? Wouldn’t the citrus bounce off causing a catastrophic citrus pile up? More than likely they took side roads creating a minor traffic back up.

As I was finishing up the sketch, someone drove away in a golf cart to get dinner for the volunteers. The sun blazed warmer as it moved towards the horizon making the oranges even more orange as the shadows lengthened.

New Year’s Day Party

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Terry and I hosted a New Year’s Day party to celebrate AADW’s third anniversary and to ring in the New Year with friends. We shopped for hot dogs and hamburgers the day before along with beers champagne and orange juice. On the morning of New Year’s day, I went to Panera to pick up a large order of bagels and pastries that Terry had called in the week before. Panera’s was packed. Everyone seemed to want bagels that morning. There was a separate line for pick up orders but no one was at that counter. The place was understaffed and chaotic. A twelve year old girl in line in front of me held a puppy she must have been given for the holidays. The woman next to me said, “I’m just waiting for that pup to pee. That’s what they do. There’s a sign on the door that says no pets. My mother would be having a fit right now.” I laughed wondering if the puppy would prance around on the pastries when the girl got to the counter.

The cashier didn’t know about my order. One woman searched, but came up empty handed. They waited for the manager who was at a register. We waited. He finally looked in the same place as the other woman and pulled out the large bag. The next stop was Publix for some lox and cream cheese. At home everything was spread out on the dining room table. Candles and the Christmas tree were lit. The invitation was for noon till midnight. Since no one had arrived yet, I started writing a blog post. Half way into the post, the doorbell rang. Our first guest was from Terry’s writing group and Terry immediately put him to work cutting tomatoes and an assortment of last minute preparations.

All through the day people arrived at various times. In the evening, Kelly DeWayne Richards stopped by with his portable piano. Terry was the first to sing. She sang, “Soon or a Later.” I was outside scrambling to get burgers and hot dogs on the grill. Amanda Chadwick got up to sing “Somewhere out There.” I don’t know how this tradition started, but I always get called up to sing with her. I will spare you the audio. Amanda then called Matt Simantov in Seattle via Skype. She had me hold the cell phone while she sang to him. Britt Daley sat behind the keyboard and began singing “Anything But“, one of her original songs. Everyone stopped to listen. There was magic in that moment. What an amazing way to start the New Year, with authors, artists and musicians. So much talent in one place made my heart warm.

Then Terry insisted I sing “Hold On” by Michael Buble. I hid in the kitchen. Though Terry couldn’t see me, Amanda could. She shouted at me to “Get in there and sing!” I don’t know the lyrics and when I perform, I like to know I’m well rehearsed. I messed up the lyrics several times and couldn’t find my way back to the refrain. Luckily no one was in the room but Terry and poor Kelly at the piano. She was seated on the couch in her wedding dress, listening intently. She had changed her outfits five times that day to everyone’s delight. After the song, she knelt down in front of me and said, “Marry me.” We had already renewed our vows on our 20th wedding anniversary. People shouted out, “Again?” The writers looking in from outside found the image of Terry kneeling in front of me suggestive. When I realized why they were laughing, my face flushed red.

We Buy Gold

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Most people refer to him as “The Gold Guy”. The Diamond Exchange (3016 E. Colonial Drive) was right behind him, ready to exchange cash for gold. When the economy tanks, gold seems to be the one standard people hope will maintain its worth. He stands on the corner of Colonial Drive and Maguire Boulevard all day. I pass him all the time on my way to work at Full Sail. He wears a gold mask and is dressed head to toe in a gold suit and pants. As cars pass he quickly tips his golden hat with a flourish. I parked at the Florida Mall across the street and walked across this rather dangerous intersection. At first I thought I would sketch him from a distance with a inflatable sock Santa in the foreground. Unfortunately “the Gold Guy” walks away from the intersecting toward traffic. He disappeared behind a palmetto and I moved. I decided I had to sit in the parking lot to catch him. He always faces on coming traffic so I would only be able to sketch him from the back.

Within 15 minutes he started to leave. The sketch was far from finished. He noticed me and approached. He smiled when he saw the incomplete sketch. All of his teeth had gold caps. He takes his golden role seriously. He let me know that I could find him there every day, all day. I just happened to show up when his shift ended. When he left, I kept working on the background and I painted as the intersection grew dark. A little red compact car parked right in front of me blocking my view. Rather than getting annoyed, I decided to incorporate it into the sketch, then I shifted over to regain my view. I rather like painting nocturnes. I can’t always see the page and colors are put down with vibrancy that I don’t really see until I get back to the studio and see the sketch in the light.

The Grove

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The week following Christmas, my event calender was empty. I had to get out of the house. I took my sketching supplies and just started walking north. I stopped when I saw a sign that said, “Sidewalk Closed”. A large piece of land, on the corner of Conroy and Apopka Vineland, once covered with trees and foliage had been stripped bare. Ironically the name of this development moonscape was, “The Grove”. When Terry and I moved into this neighborhood fifteen plus years ago, we used to bike on the rural side roads. There were orange groves everywhere. Today groves are rare.

I pulled my art supplies out of my bag to start sketching. My watercolor palette landed on a large ant hill causing a sudden surge of activity as hundreds of ants started moving grains of sand, changing the landscape. On the construction site there were a dozen or so bulldozers, escalators cranes, graders, and continuous tracked earth movers. An escalator’s claw scraped and grabbed at the sand. One truck was used to moisten the sand so it wouldn’t blow away causing sand storms. C&C Silt Fencing was tacked down all around the scared lot. The construction company was JR Davis Construction from Kissimmee Florida.

A sign of the corner at the stop lights announced the wonders that were to come. There would be retail stores, restaurants, and office space. Specifically there would be a Panera, an LA Fitness and Windermere Village Dentistry. Ironically there are several deserted store fronts in the strip mall adjacent to “The Groves.”

On the walk back home, palmetto leaves rustled in the wind sounding like rain striking a tent. The horizon was a dark steely blue. I heard the distant rumbling of thunder. A snow man made of white metal mesh had blown over, his head separated a few feet away. In an inflatable nativity, Mary’s veil had blown down over her face and all the wise men and animals vibrated in the wind. When I got home, Terry was in the driveway scrubbing rich green moss off of rocks I had used to build a waterfall in the garden. I rather liked the moss, it made the waterfall look overgrown and ancient. Oh well, it will all grow back in time. As I relaxed on the back patio it began to rain.

Reed Nissan, Holiday Oil Change

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My truck has been running hard in idle. As a kid I used to use a clothes line pin to make baseball cards flip against the spokes of the front wheel my banana seat bike. That is what it sounded like. Nostalgic but probably not good. An oil stain on the garage floor made me suspect I was low on oil. Terry also let me know that a turn signal in the back was out. I brought the truck into Reed Nissan for an oil change and bulb replacement. What I like about Reed Nissan is that the waiting area has large windows overlooking the work area.

Bing Crosby crooned some Christmas Carol as I sketched. I always dread bringing the truck in since I always expect the worst diagnosis. A small blue compact blocked the view of my truck which was on the lift in the back of the garage. Parts and labor for the bulb and oil change came to $69.57. Then the technician explained that there were other problems. Both axel boots were broken and he wanted to replace both axles. He wasn’t sure about the price on the axles so he left to look that up. While he was gone I started doing my own price research online. I found out that the CV Boots were $15 plastic pieces that helped keep dirt off the axles. The cost for the axles and labor was going to be $1,328. Merry Christmas! I decided to skip getting new axles. I’m hoping that it was an unnecessary repair. Things always break down, and letting some things slide seems to be the only way to keep moving forward.

Driving home the truck sounded smooth and steady. Things just might look good going into the new year. I just need to focus on whats working, and ignore anything that isn’t working right now. I’m not ready for a complete overhaul, just change the oil.

On the Road

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Kelly Medford was visiting Orlando from Rome, Italy. She decided she wanted to do a plein air painting of the Kerouac House. Kelly does a plein air painting every day which is astounding and ambitious. The last time I had sketched the house, I sat on a small patch of grass between a chain link fence and the street. The home owner walked her dog while I was working and when she returned, she yelled at me. I was certain the old lady would call the police. I of course told Kelly the horror story. She decided to set her easel up on the road. Traffic was light on Clouser Avenue but I had to admire her chutzpa. A garbage truck roared by and Kelly waved to the driver. I sat “On the Road” a few yards away from her and started blocking in my own sketch.

The yard around the Kerouac House had experienced a major overhaul. Palmettos and other dense foliage had been removed leaving the side of the building looking naked and exposed. I respected the buildings modesty and didn’t sketch its newly exposed flank. The house to me, had a sad worn look to it. Roof lines sagged inward and the tired beams struggled to support the weight of the tin roof. A giant live oak towered over the house, letting in only thin beams of sunlight. What a gorgeous day. I don’t sketch outside much since I’m usually sketching indoor events. This was a nice change of pace. Kelly moved the garbage can and recycling bins so they weren’t in her picture. I rather liked them, since they show that the place is and always will be occupied and alive, full of creative energy and the buzz of independent minds sharing thoughts and experiences.

A women power walked past us saying, “Hello, how nice to see artists in the neighborhood!” Kelly laughed afterwards saying, “Why doesn’t SHE live across the street from the Kerouac House?” As if on cue, the old lady came out with her bloodhound on a leash. I sucked in my breath. She disappeared around the corner, past the STOP sign, without incident. She returned and re-entered her home quietly as well. When my sketch was finished, I walked up to Kelly to see her progress. Her oil painting was completely blocked in and she was refining the details. She extended an open invitation for Terry and I to visit Rome to paint and explore. That is a very tempting invitation. A private Prix de Rome, learning about that ancient city from a resident artist. Jack Kerouac would have certainly jumped at the chance to leap over that vast expanse of the Atlantic and soak in the ancient ruins.