Town Hall Meeting

Posted on by Thor

Urban ReThink hosted a town hall meeting. I assumed based on the invite that the meeting would be about discussing ways to make Orlando more culturally vibrant. There was a good turn out. People do want to see a positive change. Patrick Green introduced new comers to the venue. Tisse Mellon ran the meeting. She wanted everyone to brainstorm on ways to help make events at Urban ReThink more successful. People were split up into groups where they would brainstorm ways to make Urban ReThink an important cultural hub.

There was a marketing group, promotions, archiving and pre-show entertainment. I have been sketching many events at Urban ReThink lately. I go right after work lets off at 5pm so I end up going somewhere else to grab dinner and to sketch. ReThink has a small cafe, but the place is frighteningly empty before an event begins. Since I was still working on my sketch when everyone broke up into groups, I found myself seated closest to the archiving committee. I listened in. They need a central place to store all the photos, videos and audio recorded at events. I chimed in and said I would administer an Urban ReThink blog if needed. There was discussion of creating a book for sale but I doubt ReThink has a budget to create self published books that would have a limited number of readers.

Urban ReThink has had some amazing programs that were poorly attended and mediocre programs that pulled in a huge crowd. It seems the word isn’t always getting out. Some of the points covered at this meeting should help the word spread that Urban ReThink is bringing a vibrant alternative cultural experience downtown.

Drum Circle

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I put in a full day painting the Mennello Museum mural. Angela Abrusci helped with painting most of the day. I’m learning as I go and it actually helps to relate my thought process to the people who assist me. We also had two middle school aged assistants. Libby Rosenthal put out ice cold water and granola bars for everyone who helped paint. About mid-afternoon I found myself alone with the wall again. As it got dark, I packed all my art supplies into my truck.

Although I was exhausted from painting all day, I decided to go to Orlando Brewing (1301 Atlanta Avenue) to sketch a drum circle. I believe this is a monthly event which coincides with the phases of the moon. I had never been to this drum circle. When I arrived a bit early, there were just a few people seated in the parking lot setting up their drums. I realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich from a food truck parked in front of the brewery, then I went inside to order a beer. I always feel invisible standing at a bar waiting to order. The bar maid was having a long discussion with a couple at the far end of the bar. I sat down and took a bite of the grilled cheese. Oh, it was so good. Let her take her time. I ordered a Pale Ale that was brewed there. Outside I found a spot to sit near a spotlight on the side of the building. I used a wooden pallet as a table. A grilled cheese washed down with a delicious Pale Ale is heaven.

The parking lot was surrounded by beer kegs on palettes stacked three stories high. Wood was piled in a fire pit and ignited. People kept arriving with drums. A woman named Sybille introduced herself. This was her first time to the drum circle. Moments later I called her Libby. She laughed saying, “You must be dyslexic”. “Libby is Sybille backwards” she said. I’m terrible with names. Moments later a young man walked by with a drum. He said, “Hi Sybille.” She said, “Hi”. She turned to me and confessed, “I can’t remember his name, It’s something simple like Mike.” She went over to hug him. After speaking with him for a while, she walked past me and said, “He’s Jim.” I laughed saying, “You were close!” “No I wasn’t” she replied. I laughed.

The drumming started sporadically at first with Appalachian styled call and responses of rhythmic beats. As it grew darker the air filled with improvised resonant rhythms. A train roared close, its horn punctuating the ongoing orchestration. It was hard to tell where the train stopped and the music began. A man stood by the fire, his arms raised in supplication as he arched his back and gazed up at the sparks rising towards the stars. There was a wild crescendo. Belly dancers began to dance around the fire their belies glistening. Sybille was dancing with them. A male dancer leaped over the flames. Lauren E. Lee swept out with a hula hoop spinning from her hips up to her neck and back down. She spun and rotated her hips in perfect unison to the beat. One of the belly dancers threw her flip flops off so she could feel the ground beneath her feet.

A young man sat in a trance with his eyes closed for well over an hour. He swayed ever so slightly to the beat. A friend of his crouched down beside him. The friend just stared at him probably wondering when he would be noticed. After half an hour of staring, he touched his friends sleeve and was acknowledged. With the sketch finished, I relaxed and felt heavy. There was no way I was about to dance. I realized I had left my pet cockatoo alone all day alone. On the drive home I left the radio off. The ebb and flow of the drum circle was still echoing in my head. My clothes smelled of fire and sweat. When I got home, I was to tired to sleep.

The Double D Incident

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Britt Daley and an amazing army of talent were shooting a music video for her new song, “One and Only” in the Orlando Repertory Theater, Katie Peters in he bright yellow dress stood on her mark for the audition. John DiDonna and Jennifer Bonner were in the audience seats acting as the director and his assistant. For this shot the video camera was way in the back of the theater pointing at the stage for a long shot. There was a nervous tension in the room. Everyone wanted to get this shot right.

Katie sang the last note in her song, “Bill Bailey Won’t You Please Come Home” She then lowered her arms. Jennifer barked, “Thank you” with disdain and disinterest. Dejected, Katie walked off the stage. Britt entered the stage with her huge 80’s style boom box. She waved to get the directors attention shouting, “Hello, HELLO!” Then she marched over to the piano, her high heels clicking loudly and assertively. She slammed the boom box on the piano. The battery compartment sprang open sending the double D batteries flying. They tumbled down striking the keys of the piano making a loud cacophonous clamor of notes. The room fell silent, then everyone laughed. Someone shouted out, “Keep those double D’s contained!” I was in tears, because I couldn’t stop laughing. I couldn’t breath! Finally calm returned. I just hope the final edit is as entertaining as the shooting process.

Any tension was broken. It was decided the batteries weren’t needed since the music would be added in the edit anyway. The next time Britt strutted on the stage the atmosphere was lighthearted and care free. She was ready to storm the audition. The scenes were shot in rapid succession. Then there was a break for lunch.

Lowe’s Paint Department

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I needed outdoor house paint for painting the Mennello Museum mural. I painted small one inch squares of color using each of the 11 colors I carry in my pocket sized Winsor & Newton watercolor set. The plan was to get one quart of each, which should be more than enough to paint the mural. When I got to Lowe’s, the paint department was deserted. I considered leaving and going up to Home Depot up the street, but I needed to start painting immediately. I approached two store clerks who were standing near the self checkout registers. One of them, named Tyrone, said he could make the paint for me. He told me to find color swatches that matched my sample palette colors.

After searching for the proper color chips for sometime, I finally asked him to make a quart of each in outdoor house paint. As he worked, I sketched. A woman was ordering paint to touch up a room in a house she was going to rent. She became curious about the sketch and took a peek. Her father is an artist so she respected what I was doing. I gave her a card hoping to gain a new reader.

Tyrone worked quickly and deliberately. The number on the paint chip card was entered into the computer and various pigments squirted into the base paint matching the colors exactly. The cheapest paint was Olympic brand so I ordered that. Cheaper paints simply have a higher water content. I planned to thin the paint down even more to recreate a watercolor look to the mural, so the cheapest paint made sense. The cans were each hammered shut and placed in a plastic shell of a holding case which fit snugly into a paint agitator which shook the can like a mechanical bull. He would dip his finger in the paint and dab a bit on the label on top of the can. A hair dryer was used to quickly dry the sample. I checked each of the colors to be sure they matched. I proudly shot a picture sending it out on Facebook announcing that I was ready to paint. Christie Miga had offered me endless advice on what type of paint to buy. She saw the photo and made one more suggestion, “Double check and make sure it is outdoor house paint.” Of course it is, I thought, that is what I asked for. I went out to the truck to check anyway. She must have ESP, because sure enough, it was indoor paint. She let me know that indoor paint would fade quickly in the intense Florida sun.

The next day I returned the 11 cans of paint I had ordered, and I reordered outdoor paint. Apparently the folks who usually staff the paint department were instructed to check inventory on the day I first ordered my paint. No harm done, the mural is now progressing at breakneck speed.

Framing Your Fear

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I went to the world premiere of “The Pink Ribbon Project.” Terry volunteered to help sell tickets and wine. I ordered a cup of white wine from her and then wandered to draw. A large canvas was set up in a side room where audience members were invited to consider the following question… “What am I, or what have I been afraid of.” Thick permanent markers were on the floor under the canvas. I wrote on the canvas twice, writing, “I am afraid of loosing the ones I love, and, Mortality.”

Cole Nesmith, the show’s creative consultant, devised this canvas of fears. He was one of the first to write something, scrawling out, “Judgement.” I sat in a dark corner of the room and started to sketch. People had a tough time reading the directions on the back of the program. They hunched over trying to illuminate the pink lettering on the black page using the lone spotlight. The first people were nervous and joked about their fears rather than facing them. A woman wrote “Spiders” and got a laugh from the rest of her family. Then a breast cancer survivor walked up and wrote, “I fear my cancer might return.” The idea of the interactive piece was to confront fears, expose them, so that they could be overcome.

It was a sold out house. Terry told me to go back to my truck and get my artist’s stool, I might need it. Volunteers were seated after everyone else. I tried to find two seats together but there were none. I found a seat for Terry and then was prepared to sit on the sidelines. Then I noticed one seat open in the front row. I asked the lovely lady from Eden Spa if the seat was available and it was. I couldn’t believe my luck, front row! Aradhana Tiwari the director, introduced the show and she gave a bouquet of flowers to the woman from Eden Spa. I was seated next to a VIP.

The entire cast jogged onto stage in bright pink t-shirts, moving to “Walk this Way.” They stretched and posed for photos. It was a scene typical of a breast cancer awareness walk or 5k. It was an energetic and humorous way to begin the show. Lindsay Cohen gave a monologue about her mom. When she found out her mom had breast cancer, she rushed to her. She leaped into her mother’s arms, sobbing. Ironically her mom had to comfort her. “Your father’s an ass man anyway.” Laughter turned to tears.

Marty Stonerock’s monologue hit closest to home. She was seven when she lost her mom. Having her mother die was her “brand” growing up. When introduced to a new class, she was the girl whose mother died when she was little. At pity parties it was an ace in the hole. A grainy black and white photo showed her dad along with the kids. Her mother stood in the background leaning against a chair. She was bleached out by the bright window behind her, a ghost of herself. “This is her post mastectomy.” Marty said. Why didn’t she write a letter? The type of letter that could explain everything.” Like Marty, as a child, I felt abandoned without warning. I was mad as hell.

My mom knew she was going to die when her breast cancer spread to her lymph nodes and then her liver. We hoped they would find a liver transplant that never came. She had six children and she knew Arthur, her husband, wasn’t emotionally going to be able to raise them himself. From her hospital bed, she told her lifelong friend, Joyce, to introduce him to Ruth when she died. Ruth, who went to the same church as my mom, had just lost her husband to cancer. She knew Ruth would make a good mother. Sure enough nine months after she died, Art and Ruth were married. What kind of strength and sacrifice was involved to imagine and hope that the love of her life would find a new love after she died, and to play matchmaker from her death bed? I didn’t know this about my mother growing up. I learned it many years later when I interviewed Joyce. My mothers heart held many secrets. She was, and always will be my hero.

I searched my pockets for a tissue. Finding none, I laughed and cried with abandon. The theater was dark anyway. No one could see. Behind me a woman breathed with shallow deliberateness. She must be fighting cancer. When the large canvas was wheeled in, the artist began painting away the fears, my fears. As a ten year old, I made a pact with God when he took my mother. I said, “If you guide my hand, I will use my art to celebrate and praise your great work.” I felt he owed me. Art has to be able to heal any wound. In the end, I hope I give enough. I left the theater feeling love, hope and faith. My heart overflowed. The three shows raised over $5000 for breast cancer.

Painting the Set

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I stopped into the Orlando Shakespeare Theater’s scenic shop to see the progress on the set for “The Importance of Being Earnest.” Things move fast in the scenic shop the entire set facade was build and ready to be painted in three pieces. Jeff Ferree and Adam were painting when I arrived. Robbin Watts was in the theater itself painting the floors. She created an impressive speckled marble effect with the paint. Another woman slapped the floor with a long rag. This was a painting technique that was new to me.

I got to see the completed set a few nights later at the Shakespeare Fundraising Gala. The impressive Victorian architecture helped set the mood for the scene that was previewed. Gwendolyn and Cecily met in an outdoor garden. They were instant, affable, eternal friends. As Gwendolyn said, “Something tells me that we are going to be great friends. I like you already more than I can say. My first impressions of people are never wrong.” Cecily responded, “How nice of you to like me so much after we have known each other such a comparatively short time.” I see this sort of flippant instant friendships all the time in this age of social networks. What makes the scene so endearing and funny is how these two women politely turn against each other when they discover they might be engaged to the same man. Gwendolyn had a turn of heart, “From the moment I saw you I distrusted you. I felt that you were false and deceitful. I am never deceived in such matters. My first impressions of people are invariably right.” I rely on my first impressions, usually gained over the course of a sketch to guide me on my daily travels.

I had painted the Mennello Museum mural all day. Libby Rosenthal let me know there was a shower in the museums basement so I spruced up only moments before the gala and then drove right across the street. The shower was divine after working in the hot parking lot all day. Then, I couldn’t turn off the hot water in the shower. The knob was stuck. I dressed quickly and ran to my truck for a screwdriver. My glasses fogged up as I struggled with the knob and my dress shirt got soaked. Thankfully, I finally managed to fix the knob. Even taking a simple refreshing shower is a drama in my struggle of a life.

At the Gala, I got to rub shoulders with Orlando’s rarefied socialites. Terry declared the evening an official date night, and I wasn’t on assignment, so for the sake of marital bliss, I kept my sketchbook tucked away. My fingers itched but I resisted temptation. My bag of art supplies rested heavily on my shoulder just in case. Though physically exhausted, I followed as Terry flitted about the room, a social butterfly. Art isn’t easy.

The Importance of Being Earnest runs through October 9th.

Christie Miga’s Mojo

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Christie Miga let me know she was working on a mural. I of course wanted to sketch her at work. She gave me an address of a building near the Fashion Square Mall. I arrived at a corporate looking brick building. I suddenly realized I didn’t know where to look for Christie. I fired off a Facebook message explaining I was looking for her. I decided to walk around the building thinking she might be outside. As I walked out back, she rounded the corner and waved to me. We walked in a back door. The offices were gutted with new drywall going up in places. Thankfully the air conditioning was on. We walked up to a large 55 foot long wall that was isolated from the rest of the construction with a long floor to ceiling plastic tarp. We stepped inside.

The mural is for a company called Mojo Interactive. Mojo is redefining the way businesses survive, sustain and grow. From day one, the Internet has been their chalkboard and imagination their chalk. The mural, which was more than three quarters complete, was gorgeous. It’s vibrant flat colors reminded me a bit of the fanciful world of “The Yellow Submarine.” It was called “The Wall of Wonder.” It was interactive. Black fish functioned as black boards where employees could write messages in chalk. Large white shapes would be covered with white boards which could also be written on. Purple mushrooms under a tree were three dimensional sticking out from the wall. The moon was going to be covered with Legos so employees could constantly update the shape. Christie was painting the negative shape around an evil looking dragon whose wings morphed into a tree’s leaves. The dragon, which represented negativity or laziness, lunged towards a Mojo Imaginaut who held a ray gun that battled the beast with creativity. A light bulb illuminated the muzzle of the gun which was going to be covered with gears that would rotate when a button was pushed. Christie educated me about the supplies she used for the mural. I learned what I could to help me complete the Mennello Museum mural.

Pink Ribbon Project

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The Pink Ribbon Project directed by Aradhana Tiwari incorporated all the art forms to dramatic effect. Her mother was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. Aradhana felt she had to do something, anything, to help. She called together artists of all disciplines to create a show that deals with the physical, mental, and emotional realities of dealing with breast cancer. Though dealing in harsh realities the show also has light moments where I found myself laughing out loud. Ironically when laughing, the deeper emotions have a chance to percolate and surface. Multiple stories intermingle and unfold. Life’s mosaic is sifted for gems. Actors and artists stories are real and told from the heart.

Dancers took to the stage seated in four chairs. Holly Harris choreographed a dance routine which began with nervous anticipation and waiting. When the chairs were in position, they were spiked, meaning glow tape marked where they would be placed in the show. Mundane everyday movements were ignited and intensified. Dancers bit their nails and shook their legs with nervous energy. Heads ticked to the side in beat to the music. At one point the dancers walked as if through quicksilver, lines crossing center stage. A dancer twirled and fell then was lifted by a male dancer in scrubs and taken off stage. The dance was energetic sensuous and vibrant. Everyone in the rehearsal shouted and clapped.

When audience members enter the theater they walk past a large canvas that is lit from behind. People are invited to write their fears on the canvas. In the final moments of the show, the canvas is rolled out center stage. An artist begins to paint white over all the fears. Fear transitions to hope. Art is used to heal. Each of the characters in the play enters and they watch the transformation. A married couple whose relationship was strained by the emotional challenges of fighting breast cancer end up walking away hand in hand. Perhaps together they can fight and win.

There are only two performances of The Pink Ribbon Project left, tonight and tomorrow night at 8pm. Performances are at the Orlando Repertory Theater, 1001 E. Princeton St., Orlando. Admission is $20 for general seating and $150 for a “giving seating” ticket. Purchasing a “giving seat” ticket will fund one mammogram for an uninsured woman. To purchase tickets, go to www.playthemoment.com or call 321-662-0611. Proceeds will benefit the Breast Cancer Fund at Florida Hospital Cancer Institute, which provides diagnostic testing and treatment for uninsured and under served women in Central Florida.

Satchmo at the Waldorf

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I went to an open rehearsal for Satchmo at the Waldorf on the evening before its world premiere. The play was written by Terry Teachout perhaps best known as the Wall Street Journal theater critic. The play, directed by Rus Blackwell stars Dennis Neal. The play was based on 650 reel to reel tapes that Satchmo, Louis Armstrong, made over the course of his career. A tape to tape recorder was on set and a few times Dennis spoke directly to it. Circular tables were arranged cabaret style around the stage.

During the course of the play Dennis plays both Satchmo and his lifelong manager Joe Glaser. He transformed instantly and believably on a dime. It is through this relationship that the hidden details of Armstrong’s life were revealed. Although fellow performers referenced him as an “Uncle Tom”, singing and waving a handkerchief mistral style for the white folks, he was actually quite a bad ass with a sharp tongue. Talking to a reporter about whites spitting at young black children going to desegregated schools, he called them out for what they were, “Mother f*ckers!”

Looking down at his trumpet, he remarked about how lucky he was to find Lucille, the love of his life. “She know this trumpet come first, even before her. That’s my livin’ and my life.” He had never had a Christmas tree growing up and she set one up for him as a surprise. He looked at the lights all night. He wouldn’t let her shut it off.

Dennis Neal gave an inspiring performance. He never played the trumpet but his monologue slowly unraveled the inner spirit of a great performer. Tech for the show broke down at one point when a sound effect was lost and had to be tracked down. Dennis sat quietly on the stage, waiting. He said, “Bad scrimmage, great game.” It was like Satchmo himself waiting for the world to catch up to his inner driving force. Terry sat on stage with him. Photographer Kristin Wheeler took the opportunity to photograph the actor and playwright together. This was a historic moment. A great show was about to be born.

Performances are at 7:30pm Thursday through Saturday and at 2:30pm Sundays through October 2nd at the Orlando Shakespeare Theater. Tickets are $20general and $16 for seniors and students. Call 407 405-8091 or e-mail SatchmoWaldorfAstoria@gmail.com for more information.

Pink Ribbon Project Rehearsal

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I went to the Orlando Shakes Black Box Theater expecting to find the Pink Ribbon project rehearsal. A group of teenage girls were tap dancing in a circle. Three of them had pink shirts on but the mood felt wrong. I checked my calender again, I was supposed to be at the Black Box Theater at the Rep. I slipped out and dashed across Lock Haven Park to the Rep. When I arrived, Matt McGrath was getting several brooms and a bicycle pump out of his car. I wondered how these props would tie in to the show.

In the first scene I sketched, Marty Stonerock and Mikki Scanlon sat on stage each bathed in a pool of light. They both spoke on cell phones. At first it seemed like they were speaking to each other but then it became clear they were speaking to their respective spouses. Mikki shifted her position in her chair, leaning forward and twisting, “Can you hear me now? I’m at the hospital. No I wasn’t in an accident! I’m fine, really I’m fine. Well, no, I’m not fine. I have breast cancer.” Marty was having a similar gut wrenching conversation trying to comprehend the impossible. “I have it, I have breast cancer… Are you there? Hello?”

Large pink ribbons were hung from the rafters. They will be used in a dance number early in the show. Aradhana Tiwari was directing and the show carries her signature. Multiple stories overlap and bloom during the course of the production. There is brutal honesty as women confront their own mortality. The show’s mission is, “To raise awareness, educating people about the physical, mental, and emotional realities that dealing with breast cancer entails. The aim to offer a therapeutic and cathartic experience for women and their families who are in the midst of the fight, touching them in the unique way that only the arts can. Lastly, our vision is to bring hope, champion faith, and ignite inspiration that will empower women as they walk forward and continue to battle on.”

I was unexpectedly moved when a young boy excitedly tried to keep his mother engaged and entertained although she had breast cancer. He was a live wire running circles around her. He showed her card tricks, dance moves and offered her brownies. She was unable to eat after chemo. Dejected he looked at the pan of brownies in his hands and muttered to himself, “Your so stupid, you know she gets sick after chemo. I have to keep her going, I just have to keep her going.” I welled up, thinking of my own mom’s battle with breast cancer. At ten years old, I was to young to even know how sick she was. But something was wrong and I just wanted to see her laugh again. I couldn’t visit her in the hospital. I suppose they wanted to keep me safe from the reality of seeing her slip away.

Though I only saw the show in fits and starts at the rehearsal, I can tell it will be a multi layered and emotionally inspiring production. The Pink Ribbon Project will be run September 16-18th at the Orlando Repertory Theater, 1001 E. Princeton St., Orlando. Admission is $20 for general seating and $150 for a “giving seating” ticket. Purchasing a “giving seat” ticket will fund one mammogram for an uninsured woman. To purchase tickets, go to www.playthemoment.com or call 321-662-0611. Proceeds will benefit the Breast Cancer Fund at Florida Hospital Cancer Institute, which provides diagnostic testing and treatment for uninsured and under served women in Central Florida.