NADA Art Fair

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The condominium we stayed at was in North Miami Beach and on the last day we went to the Deauville Beach Resort which was the home of the New Art Dealers Alliance (NADA) is a not-for-profit organization devoted to giving support and encouragement to those who work in new contemporary and emerging art; facilitating strong, and meaningful relationships between members; and enhancing the public interaction with contemporary art. NADA Art Fair was founded in 2003. Members include galleries directors, non-profit art spaces, art advisers, curators, writers, museums and other art professionals from around the world.

NADA was only a few blocks from where we were staying. After a quick stop for omelets, we walked along the beach boardwalk till we found the hotel. After three solid days of looking at art, we were all experiencing art burn out. Everything started looking the same. Dealers in one booth explained to us that dealers from Art Basel liked to migrate up north to the NADA Art Fair to see something new and unexpected. He said these dealers might stop back several times that week. As he put it, “We are all learning as we go. There is no rule book.”

After walking through the Napoleon, Richelieu and La Jardin Ballrooms, only one image was engraved into my memory. There was a video playing that showed a giant tortuous grunting as it tried to mount another tortuous. The person in the booth explained that there were only a few of this species left in the Galapagos Islands and they were all males kept together in an enclosure. These males were each over one hundred years old and the last of their species. With all the odds stacked against them these Centenarians were still trying to propagate their species. The shells scraped and clicked as claws lost grip and the dance began again in slow motion. Life finds finds a way.

In the lobby, Grant Peterson lay prostrate in a leather chair, his fedora spooned neatly over his backpack. Like everyone in our party, he was exhausted, having seen enough art to last him another year.

Red Dot

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The Red Dot tent was right next to the Scope tent. By now I was moving quickly focusing only on the work that interested me. There was far more representational art than in the convention center. A second large tent was connected to the first, doubling the exhibit space. Several members of our party were seated at a circular table in this back exhibit space. I was glad to join them. Seated at the table across from us was Russian artist Anna Razumovskaya with flowing blonde hair and dressed in a white business suit.. She paints romantic images of women in warm impressionistic hues. Her work exudes high fashion and excess, executed with bold brush strokes, bravado and flash. A large flower arrangement burst out of a clear vase full of green apples. A dark ballgown was exhibited as well with a giant black crinoline flower. Anna was often approached by women who loved her work. They shyly approached her, delighted to have the chance to meet the artist in person. She would pose for photos with them and was so gracious. It was nice seeing an artist being treated like a rock star.

The booth next to Anna’s contained the photo realistic paintings of Ken Orton. The large paintings explored the way light dances it’s way through mason jars. I’m fascinated that an artist could commit himself patiently to a quiet still life subject like that, over and over. For me, life is always on the move and I just struggle to keep up. There are things to be discovered in the quiet moments as well.

Santa at the LYNX Bus Terminal

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Debbe King tipped me off that Santa was going to be in the LYNX Bus Terminal. When I arrived I sat on a terminal bench straight across from Santa. Mrs. Claus was there as well but she was constantly on the move. She shouted out, “Hey! How about another announcement!” The loud speakers crackled, “Mr. and Mrs Claus are in the bus terminal. Come meet Santa.” Mothers and children must have taken buses just so they could meet him. A new mom had her two week old baby with her. She gently placed the baby in Santa’s lap. He smiled at the baby that cooed playfully. A slightly older daughter was frightened of him. The man seated next to me was also watching and he laughed.

A man with a dark straggly beard and wild dark hair was muttering and cursing to himself as he shuffled by. He must have been the anti-Santa. He continued to curse after he sat on a bench. Two OPD officers soon walked in and insisted that he had to leave or get on a bus. Santa was loitering as well but his jolly laughter and good cheer left the officers laughing as well. “Ho, Ho, Ho! Write me a ticket! Ho, Ho!” As they walked away, they were smiling. A face painter created intricate holiday masks for the children. One boy left as Spiderman and his sister had delicate butterfly wings over her eyes.

A fan was pointing at Santa constantly since he is used to much cooler weather at the North Pole. A group of teenage girls approached him. “Your never to old to sit on Santa’s lap!” He chuckled. The girls giggled. One of them sat next to him and whispered in his ear. He asked a little boy what he wanted for Christmas, and the boy said, “A car for my parents.” “You’d be amazed at how many requests I get for cars.” he replied. “I’ll see what I can do.” I was touched that the boy didn’t ask for anything for himself. Santa’s beard was real and his red nosed complexion was real as well. Perhaps families across Central Florida will experience a New Year with the freedom of the open road. If only gas was less expensive.

Decorating the Christmas Tree

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For the first time in years, Terry and I decided to buy a live Christmas tree. Neither of us had seen any tree tents in our travels around town. I did notice a fireworks tent still up on Colonial Drive. I guess they will do a brisk business for New Years Eve. Terry was raised Jewish but she loves decorating the tree even more than I do. The first order of the day was to pack the back of my truck full of old computer monitors, a fax machine and and several dead car batteries. We dropped everything off at a recycling center on McCoy Road. As I drove, Terry asked friends on Facebook where they got their trees. I think Tracy Burke is the one who directed us to go to Home Depot.

A tent was set up in the Home Depot parking lot. When we walked in, the pine needle smell was intoxicating. Terry seemed to think I would be a tree expert since I grew up with the tradition. They all looked good however. We finally settled on a seven foot Douglas Fir. It was a little mushed on one side but that imperfection gave it character. We were given a ticket and we payed inside the garden center. Terry couldn’t resist picking up some purple Begonias, her favorite flower as well. The tree was packed in a tight nylon net. I backed up the truck and opened the back, hoping the tree would fit inside. The trunk was thrust between the front seats almost touching the windshield. When I sat behind the steering wheel, I had to lean against the door. The sweet smell of pine needles filled the truck.

Getting the tree to stand straight in the stand was a chore. Terry held the tree as I tightened the bolts into the trunk. There was no way to check if it was standing up straight. When Terry let go and backed up to take a look, the tree fell over. I realized there were too many branches near the base so she got me some garden shears to cut them away. I tightened the bolts in a second time, having them puncture the trunk in a new spot. This time the tree stood its ground.

Using a ladder, I climbed up into the attic space above the garage where the Christmas lights and ornaments are stored in moving boxes. We unpacked the boxes in the kitchen, looking first for the lights. Foot long strands of green wire and tiny colorful incandescent bulbs fell out on the floor. Something was wrong. I neatly wind the Christmas lights around a red hanger but they were falling away in pieces. We discovered rats had chewed through the wires. I started throwing away the wires that had been chewed through. I tested the few strands remaining and only the last one partially lit up. I lay it out on the floor and plugged it in. Only half the strand was lit. I started replacing bulbs one at a time trying to revive the lights. Those little suckers are hard to take out. After a dozen bulb tests, I gave up, pronouncing the final strand DOA.

We went to a Walgreen’s and got 3 boxes of the old fashioned larger bulbs. These are the types of bulbs I grew up with. I was in charge of putting the lights on the tree. When I was done, I settled back and sketched while Terry put up the ornaments. Amanda Chadwick stopped over with Baxter, her adorable, but skittish Dachshund. It took Baxter quite a while to notice Zorro, our cockatoo on his perch. When he did notice him, his ears bristled and his eyes grew wide as he thought, “Toy!” We were short on ornaments and I had to crawl back up in the attic to recover a box that had been moved by workmen running cables up there. Inside was a treasure trove of old ornaments. Terry would hold each one up and announce, “Oh, look at this one! Oooh!” Amanda napped on the couch with Baxter. We had plenty of Marti Gras beads that came back with us from New Orleans and the Gay Pride Parade. Amanda twisted the beads creating wonderful little stars. She showed me how to do it and together we created dozens of stars. Matt Simantov checked in from Seattle via Skype.

I warmed up a bottle of German mulled wine which was sweet and delicious. When the tree was fully decorated, we ordered a pizza and basked in its warm glow while listening to world beat music.

2nd Annual Holiday Benefit Concert

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The Florida Symphony Youth Orchestra performed a Holiday Concert in the Lake Eola Band Shell. The primary purpose of the FSYO is education. All programs reflect a commitment to provide young musicians with the opportunity to strengthen their musical talents and develop an appreciation of the arts through classical music.The first orchestra to perform was the Prelude Orchestra. A cow in a Santa suit got on the conductors podium as the children warmed up. The cow wasn’t a conductor at all! He was a mascot for Chick Fill-a promoting the mass murdering of chickens as apposed to cows. For the rest of the concert he remained on the sidelines, occasionally throwing cow T-shirts into the audience. Beth Marshall once told me that Chick Fill-a company policy does not recognize, and opposes same sex couples so I stopped eating there.

The first few pieces by the Symphony were embarrassingly bad yet there were enough parents in the audience to offer thunderous applause anyway. I was seated in the front row at stage right. I started sketching chairs to block in the sketch figuring I would fill them with children when they got on stage. Unfortunately the first orchestra only filled a few seats. The next orchestra was filled with slightly older children and the music started to feel more unified. A special guest was announced and Santa Conducted the orchestra. Audience members brought new gifts and donations for the Salvation Army’s Angel Tree Program. The concert will air Christmas morning at 6am on WMKG-TV Local 6.

Moving a Tree

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Moving a Tree was a performance art piece staged in a courtyard in front of the SCOPE tent at Art Basel in Miami Beach. There were a few couches set up in the gavel courtyard for an audience. I sat on a comfy cushion to sketch as everyone else explored the art inside.

This is what the artist, Avery Lawrence, had to say about “Moving a Tree.”
“For the last five years, my family and I watched as dementia overcame my grandfather. The act of witnessing and attempting to slow down his decay brought us together. He died in January. In the ‘Moving a Tree’ film, installation and performance, I explore the process of creating an homage that honors his life, his passing, and the relationship he forged with my grandmother over sixty years of marriage.”

“There was a dying walnut tree on my grandparents property in Central Virginia. Through the process of moving it, I created a physical struggle that enabled me to contemplate my grandparents efforts to create a whole loving family and maintain their own compassionate relationship. The characters I portray in ‘Moving a Tree’ represent my grandmother and grandfather, and the installation recreates my idea of their home.”

I assumed the artist would be doing the performance piece non-stop. As soon as I started sketching, he stepped off and disappeared. Where was the struggle, the inner turmoil and endless contemplation? I blocked in the treadmill and all the background elements, then I went inside the tent to see some art. When I returned, he still wasn’t there but I had faith that my struggle to complete the sketch would be fulfilled. As I was applying washes, he did return and I quickly sketched him in, knowing he might disappear at a moments notice.

The SCOPE tent had some of the most inspiring art I saw that weekend. I found the work of Karim Hamid and I took my time exploring his work. Karim is an excellent draftsman whose work is part collage and part expressive oil paintings. He fragments and partly abstracts the human face and form. I saw his work last year at Art Basel and this year the colors were a bit more garish.

Sound Scape Park

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After a solid day of viewing art at Art Basel, our group decided to meet up at Sound Scape Park, just a block from the Convention Center. Mark Baratelli and I arrived first. Videos were going to be projected on the side of the New World Center which is a performance space for the New World Symphony. The palm trees in the park were all fitted with speakers for a surround sound experience. I started sketching near the projection booth at the back of the lawn. Orange and purple been bags were scattered all over the lawn for people to lounge in. Mark and I gathered three been bags for our group. Mark was thirsty so he walked to Washington Avenue in search of sodas. I was left to guard the bean bags as I sketched.

Every few minutes people would interrupt me asking how much it cost to rent the bean bags. I guess, since I was seated next to a group of bean bags they assumed I was in charge. I would explain that seating was free. They would then reach for the bags next to me and I had to explain I was saving them. One guy grabbed one and said, “You aren’t going to miss just one.” It wasn’t worth getting in a fist fight over a damn bag. They would have to make due. I decided it was easier to say “The bean bag chairs are $50 to rent” any time someone approached. Finally Terry and our friends arrived. They all squeezed together on the remaining bean bags, joking and snuggling.

The video I sketched was called, “I’m not much, but I’m all I think about”, by Marilyn Minter. Dimensional sculpted “ME” kept falling into a viscous fluid which splashed and then enveloped the letters in slow motion. I would have to guess that it was a film about narcissism. The next film was called, “God bless America” by Martha Rosier and it featured a woman saluting who struggle to pull the saluting hand away from her face.

After the screening, Derrek Hewitt rushed off to get the car in a parking garage. Terry, Mark and I lost his group on the way. Mark and I quickly walked through an abandoned store front that was full of stitched art. Female nudes were outlined with stitching on large six or seven foot canvas sheets. Two girls sat on the floor stitching. “Great sketch opportunity”, I thought but we had to find the group. After phone calls and texts, Mark and I piled into the car and we were all off to find a restaurant.

Art Basel Video Kiosks

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The sheer volume of artwork to be seen in the convention center is mind boggling. These large video kiosks build out of plywood were constantly occupied not only by people curious to see the videos, but by people just looking for a chance to rest their feet. I sat on my portable artist’s bench and started sketching. The video pods were playing 22 films selected by Artprojx and they played on a continuous loop. I watched one for a short while. It was a black and white film that showed a Marlyn Monroe look alike as she wandered aimlessly in a deserted city lot. I lost interest quickly and moved on.

In the background of the sketch is a black sculpture hanging by a chain from the ceiling joists. It is “Untitled #1176” by Petah Coyne made between 2007 and 2010. The piece consisted of a chandelier which was covered with taxidermy birds, candles silk flowers, hair pins, felt, thread and Velcro. I don’t know where someone would want to hang the thing.

I walked around with Mark Baratelli for a while and we came to the conclusion that this was the year of broken mirrors and hair. Just as we agreed on this, we came across four woman’s wigs framed on the wall. One small piece mounted inside a clear plexiglass box looked like a bar of soap carved out of a piece of wood. Mark read the plaque and discovered that the wood grain was actually a long strand of pubic hair. He enjoyed explaining the piece to two women who wandered by.

One artists work did capture my imagination. There were large plexiglass dioramas mounted on the wall. One diorama depicted a giant swirl in the ocean with two tall ships getting sucked into the “Maelstrom” by Mondongo. The colors were small strips of Plasticine. It reminded me of a 3D version of a Van Gogh. I loved how the work danced a fine line between painting and sculpture.

We went to the Wynwood Arts District in the evening to check out the vibrant galleries and graffiti art. We went to an Absolute Party, sipping Coconut Vodka while listening to musicians performing in front of a shipping storage container. Art covered every imaginable surface. The whole neighborhood was a riot of sound and color. A sketchers dream, but I was being escorted on a lightning tour of the neighborhood. We stopped in an empty lot full of food trucks. I suspect the neighborhood would be partying all night but it was time to crash.

Art Basel Miami

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Terry, Mark Baratelli and I drove down to Miami to see Art Basel. Basel is a city in Switzerland where art galleries from around the world gather to show their art. This was the tenth year that the art exhibition has taken place in Miami as well. Terry’s friend Elaine Pasekoff was gracious enough to let us stay in one of her South Beach Condos. When we arrived in the late afternoon we all relaxed and read the Miami Herald entertainment section to get an idea of what we might like to see. Art Basel is centered in the convention center but also has satellite tents and exhibitions all over town. It is impossible to see everything.

I was intrigued by a performance piece by Glenn Kaino. In a park near the convention center he was asking people to help him levitate a 20 by 20 foot platform with a representation of the 1934 Worlds Fair perched on top. Called “Levitating the Fair“, it was to be held up for the entire four day duration of the Art Basel. Derek Hewitt dropped Mark Baratelli and myself off in the park. As Mark photographed desert food bikes, I searched for a crowd holding up the Worlds Fair. I never found it. I did see the platform but it didn’t appear to be levitating. Perhaps everyone was on a bathroom break.

Star Wars paratroopers were guarding the balconies of an apartment complex across the street from the park. Picasso held a house painting brush loaded up with bright pink paint. “Love is the answer” billowed in the ocean breeze. A huge Mr. Potato Head had a green Swiss alps hat on and for some reason he was pleased to be holding a squeeze bottle of ketchup. “Brainwash” was printed above the doorway. After I finished my sketch, I hiked over to the convention center. The art marathon had begun.

DRIP Dance on International Drive

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Drip dance is renting a new performance space on International Drive (8747 International Drive, Orlando). I had some trouble finding the entrance. You actually enter the space via a loading dock behind a Denny’s restaurant. Jessica Mariko, the dance company’s founder, wants to keep the feeling that you are entering an independent, alternative venue off the main drag. Signage will help guide people back. The space is raw and unfinished, a blank canvas waiting to fulfill it’s creative potential. Large plastic sheets were taped to the walls and floor in a far corner where dancers would later be photographed along with flying pigments. The space used to be an indoor miniature golf course. Large rolls of artificial grass were arranged around a square in the center of the cavernous space. About twenty volunteers sat down for an informal meeting. There was beer and snacks for the people helping make this dream a reality.

Jessica outlined Drips mission statement for the new people coming on board. “DRIP combines performing arts and visual arts to create compelling sensory-stimulated experiences that excite and move audiences. We believe everyone has the potential to succeed at whatever they desire. DRIP provides a supportive environment that encourages participants to continually develop themselves while doing things they are passionate about. We aim to become a worldwide household name that is know for innovative, captivating and stimulating entertainment.” Jessica said that she is building the business plan based on shows like Circque Du Soleil and Blue Man Group. David Traver who composed the music for the new DRIP show actually works for Blue Man Group.

DRIP‘s opening show in the new venue will offer a “wet, raw, sexy rock ‘n roll experience, that stimulates many senses. The show includes dance, acting, live music, visual art installations and a powerful story. A variety of alcoholic beverages and merchandise will also be sold at the venue.” The bar is one element that is taking form fast. Jessica wants to have an urban dive bar that serves colored beers. Brian Sikorsky is in charge of trying to make that happen. Big beer companies are reluctant to have organic coloring added to the beer since taste is the top priority. Every option is being considered to make the colored beer bar a working reality.

Dancers are still needed to fill out the core group. A ramp has to be built up to the loading dock entrance, permits need to be filed, and the bar completed, all within a month’s time. An explosion of volunteer creative effort is going into making DRIP an alternative hit on International Drive.