Fashion Funds the Cure

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Terry asked if I would like to sketch a fashion show at Saks Fifth Avenue in the Florida Mall. I approached Saks from inside the mall and found the gate had been pulled down and a sign put up announcing a private party. I had to backtrack a bit then walk outside to enter Saks from the parking lot. The women at the reception table searched for my name on the list and they couldn’t find it. I had been invited so I stubbornly told them to check again. They finally just let me in. There was food and drink but I wanted to get right to work. Most of the seats in the front rows had reserved signs on them. I fount a seat right next to where the models entered the runway. From my seat I could see the models backstage as they prepared.

The event was a fundraiser for the Pediatric Cancer Foundation. This organization launched a new clinical trial to treat 18 children with relapsed Acute Limphoblastic Leukemia or ALL as it is commonly called. Each child’s treatment would cost $13,000. My father had died from Leukemia shortly before I moved to Orlando so I know first hand how this disease can ravage and deplete a family member.

Eight year old Gina Marie Incandela started things off by singing “Baby you’re a Firework” by Katy Perry. She had sung the National Anthem at a Magic playoff game I recently attended. Her song began tentatively then when she marched down the runway with her hands raised the audience was hooked. I wasn’t ready for what followed. Angelys, an adorable young eight year old girl, made her way down the runway with her mom escorting her. Angelys along with all the other young models is battling Leukemia. The girls were smiling as they sported beautiful oufits down the runway. Several girls had lost strength in their legs and they still made it down the runway with adults escorts supporting them by the elbows. They exhibited strength and beauty.

The host, Brandi Williams would announce some enlightening snippet for each girl. One girls simple bio read, “I am so much more than my cancer.” I saw women across the runway dabbing their eyes and I struggled to keep my eyes clear so I could sketch. Terry had to leave since the scene made her sad. For one shining moment every one of these survivors were superstars. A young girl got to the end of the runway in front of the video cameras and she did an extra sassy hip move that bought a loud cheer from the audience.

Then came an auction. A woman won an amazing week long trip to Colorado for just $2,000. A trip to Paris France had me tempted to bid. When the auction was over, the area quickly cleared out. Melissa Kasper was nice enough to bring me a plate of food as I finished the sketch. The pork and mashed potatoes were amazing. I got up to get a second plate. I found Terry talking to Rachel Kapitan who was helping Ella Kapul at Chocolate Provocateur.When Terry went to hug Jessica Mariko of Drip Dance, a martini glass crashed to the floor. Never a dull moment. We laughed so we wouldn’t cry.

Four Rivers

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I am now on a quest to sketch the longest lines in Orlando. I put out a Facebook status asking where I should look. I got thirteen responses and four of those suggested I sketch the line of people waiting for Barbecue at Four Rivers Smokehouse (2103 W Fairbanks Ave.) I had been to Four Rivers before and indeed the line went out the door. Excited, I decided I had to sketch that night. Terry was at a writing workshop in the same neighborhood, so I planned to stop by and visit once my sketch was done.

It was a hot muggy evening. I sat in the shade of a church across the street. Sadly there was no epic line of people waiting. There was a steady stream of people coming and going so I figured the line might develop and grow as I sketched. Dave from the Auto Spa of Winter Park diagonally across the street from Four Rivers took an interest in what I was doing. He said, “You know that place is the best thing to happen to this neighborhood in 20 years. The place was intended to just house a catering business, but people kept stopping by for BBQ. The owner is a religious man and he had a vision of eventually owning 24 stores. He never wants to franchise. So within one year, he now has a place in Winter Garden and another one opening in Altamonte Springs.”

When I finished my sketch I decided I had to order something. I got a “Burnt Ends” sandwich with beef brisket and pork together. I ordered a small side of macaroni and a Mountain Dew as well. The sandwich was good with a subtle lingering heat that warmed my throat. The macaroni and Dew helped cut the heat. I was full after finishing half of the sandwich. There were some hot sauces on the counter outside but I’m not that adventurous. Eight picnic tables were arranged out back and they were all occupied. I watched as people came and went from the gravel parking lot. Misters and industrial fans kept things cool.

Orlando Home Grown Show

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As part of the week long Snap Photography celebration, there was to be an exhibit of photography from Orlando locals at the Orlando Museum of Art as part of First Thursdays. Johannah O’Donnel was there and I was told she helped organize the exhibit. On exhibit in the front gallery were paintings which all revolved around an urban theme. I made my way back towards the sound of music. I bumped into Joe Rosier who was promoting his one man storytelling show in the up coming Fringe festival. I am trying to arrange to sketch Joe since he has so much character.

In the central room of the museum with the giant blue blown glass sculpture by Dale Chilhuly a simple two man band was warming up. Adriaan Mol was playing guitar in his laid back fashion. The bands name was, Please Respect our Decadence. There was a nice tall cocktail table right in front of the stage so I started to sketch. I always get nervous sketching in museums now and I kept tracking the museum guards movements as I worked.

Jared Silvia said hello and he let me know where the photography exhibit was. When I finished sketching I went to the back gallery where the photo exhibit was hung. Jared let me know where his wife Silvia’s piece was hung. She was near her photo talking with friends. I jokingly asked her to stop crowding the art so I could get a look. It was a stark almost black and white photo of a woman in a flowing white dress lying in a stream. I couldn’t see the woman’s face. It looked to me like a murder scene. I talked to Jared about it and he said I was wrong. It was a more romantic and symbolic image with personal significance. I mentioned Dustin Hoffman floating in the pool in a scene from “The Graduate.” I hit much closer to the mark with that visual analogy.

Snap was like a week long shot of adrenalin. This dynamic, inspiring event shook me to the core making me realize the importance creative media can have to affect positive change. The city of Orlando really needs events like this to challenge, provoke and inspire creative change.

Flight out of Panama

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Terry and I piled into a cab outside Alison’s apartment building at four in the morning. The streets of Panama city were relatively quiet. At the airport there was a long line at the American Airlines counter. Why were they all up so early for? We waited to cheek our bags. Security was the usual hassle, removing shoes, getting the tablet PC into a separate storage bin to go through the x-ray machine. My assortment of art supplies usually sparks curiosity and a second search. This time I just had to put up with a pat down. Terry said the female security officer felt up her breasts.

Terry is usually nervous flying so she took a prescribed tablet to calm her nerves. We checked into the Admirals Club which is much quieter than waiting at the gate. Terry was out like a light. She slept while I sketched until a patch of sunlight crawled along the wall and then shined right into her eyes. At the gate people pushed and formed a long line when section A was announced for boarding. I stood at the back of the line and Terry walked up to the front of the line. She waved me up. She asked several people if they were in section A. They weren’t. We cut in front of everyone. Terry explained that she had lived in Venezuela for a year and in Latin America everyone pushes to the front of the line. Bureaucratic courtesies like road signs were ignored.

Terry immediately fell asleep on the plane. An hour late, the plane taxied out to the runway and stopped. Half an hour later the pilot announced that one of the six fuel pumps wasn’t working. The air on the plane shut off. The cabin gradually started to heat up. I wished I had worn shorts. I started sweating. People stood in the aisle talking nervously in Spanish. The plane taxied back to a runway and continued to wait. Still there was no air. I was getting lightheaded. There was less oxygen and too much CO2. I calmed my nerves. I might be hyperventilating. They could always deploy the oxygen masks, couldn’t they? I was seated right next to one of the exit doors over the wings. I imagined I could force open this emergency exit before I passed out. But what if I passed out first? Terry was sound asleep. The pilot announced that they hoped to get a portable air system trucked in from another airline. An hour later the air turned on. Everyone raised their hands to check the flow of air. Several people stood putting their faces up to the air nozzles inhaling deeply and turning their faces into the breeze.

I don’t know if they ever fixed the fuel pump. Three and a half hours late, we accelerated down the runway and took flight. We missed our connecting flight in Miami and had to get our bags to go through customs and head through security again. This time I had to stand in one of the new full body scanners. A bright light bar whirled around me as I stood with my arms up in the sign of surrender. I didn’t get to see my nude scan, I was curious. At the Orlando airport we waited forever at baggage claim. Terry’s bag arrived early in the process. Everyone else picked up their bags and left. Then an orange cone that said, “Last Bag” showed up on the moving beltway. We went into the office and found out that my bag was still in Miami. I had left a camera in that bag so I didn’t have to carry it. What a mistake! A day later my bag was delivered to my doorstep with several new rips and the zipper handles removed. Luckily the camera, which I never did use on the vacation, was safe and sound in it’s protective case.

On the Tip of Your Tongue

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Mad About Words sponsored a writing workshop with Ellie Watts-Russell the current writer in residence at the Kerouac house. She organized the workshop to explore the power of taste, sound and touch as artistic triggers. The workshop began in the Kerouac house living room where she asked everyone to introduce themselves and point out one quirky fact from their lives. Ellie worked in a men’s prison. The man in front of me said the smell of bacon always reminded him of his time in the navy. A woman related that she electrocuted herself in the kitchen once. Every person offered a fascinating taste and I wanted to hear more. An excerpt was read from several authors who explored the senses in their writing. One paragraph was from Jack Kerouac’s Darma Bums, where he described his ascent up a rocky mountainside. It was vivid and clear. Ellie had a sweet British accent, and she would acknowledge writing she loved as “Brilliant.”

Ellie then asked everyone a series of questions which would help indicate if you were a visual, aural, or tactile author. One question was, after buying an item of IKEA furniture would you,
A. Read the instructions.
B. Ask a friend for advice or
C. Start building and learn as you go.
I was sketching but I am fairly sure I am a visual person. Besides I haven’t fully smelled anything since I moved to Florida.

Ellie then invited everyone to the back room of the house. There she had items to stimulate the senses. For smell there was a large Magnolia blossom floating in a clear bowl of water. For touch there was a brown puddle in a paper plate that held it’s form when lifted like some primordial ooze. For taste there was some cotton candy which had collapsed in the Florida heat forming compact pancakes of multicolored sweetness. Ellie was mortified and put out some fresh “candy floss” but everyone picked up and tasted the hardened masses. On the wall there were photos. A man pushed a large block of ice. A long line of people struggled up a dune. A young girls face was illuminated by her laptop.

Then everyone sat down to write. Many authors sat outside to enjoy the beautiful day. I finished my sketch as they wrote. I wanted to get home to Terry so I didn’t stick around to hear what everyone wrote. I thanked Ellie for letting me sit in and started home. On the drive back I passed a black limo and a hearse. It seemed sad that only two cars followed. Later a gleaming white hearse and limo made a left turn down the Orange Blossom Trail. A large white SUV screeched to a halt in the middle of the intersection and two men in white suits jumped out to direct traffic so that the insanely long line of cars could breeze through. As an artist or author we always hope we can touch many lives with whatever we create. I wondered if my funeral would have one car or a long line in tow. It is a vain glorious thing to ponder but what matters is that I leave something behind, and that I never let my senses grow dull. Howl at the moon and rush off in search of the next sketch.

Our Guide

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Terry hired a guide, named Rainald Framhein, to drive us around Panama City. The tires on his car had blown out the week before, so he picked us up in a new rental car. Driving in Panama is an adventure. Stop signs and lights seem to be considered suggestions often ignored. Cars merging into traffic would blindly accelerate assuming they would push in. There were several instances when I was certain I would die but our Rainald’s lightning fast reflexes saved us. There was a constant angry barrage of horns honking and curses shouted out in Spanish. Alison spoke fluent Spanish after six months of intensive language studies prior to her posting at the U.S. Embassy. Terry knew some Spanish from having lived in Venezuelan for a year. I knew how to say “yes” and “thank you.” Luckily many of Panama’s citizens knew English. Even better they use American currency.

The first place we explored was the Parque Natural Summit. This natural refuge was established by the United States. We hiked up a two mile dirt road until we reached a grass clearing at the summit where we had a wide panoramic view overlooking all of Panama City. I didn’t sketch since I was exhausted and sweaty from the hike and besides I had just sketched the city skyline the day before. As we relaxed, taking in the view, I noticed a long line of Leaf Cutter Ants as they marched down a tree trunk and then along the forest floor. I laughed when I noticed a smaller ant hitching a ride on a leaf fragment being carried by another ant. It turned out even this hitch hiker had a role to perform by keeping parasites away from the leaf. The constant activity reminded me of the angry traffic on the streets of Panama City. The ants were more organized than the concrete civilization below them. They cultivate the leaves to create a fungus which is their food source. They were successfully farming thousands of years before humans. To cleanly cultivate this crop the ants have been using antibiotics which the human race only discovered some 60 years ago. Research is being done that may help make hospitals more sterile and perhaps new drugs can be found from the never ending work of these tireless workers. When the leaves have been cleaned of their fungus, the ants remove the waste and pile it up in immense mounds which are easily seen on the rain forest floor.

Mennello Museum

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I went to the Mennello Museum for a quick meeting with Genevieve Bernard about a possible mural outside the building. We met in Kim Robinson’s office. Her office window looks straight out at the blank wall. Executive Director, Frank Holt, wanted to be sure the final image was cohesive. The proposed wall is 48 feet wide by seven feet high. Next week I will be meeting students who will help with brainstorming for ideas. Apparently there is a competition which will help pick which high school students can help me out with the actual painting of the mural. Details are still being worked out. My challenge is to maintain my usual spontaneous style so the mural looks like a sketch done on location. The sun beats down on the wall which waits for inspiration to strike so it can fulfill it’s potential.

When I entered the museum it was obvious that they were taking down the 1934 New Deal show and putting up a new show. The New Deal show featured paintings from the Smithsonian collection. The new deal program lasted for a very short time in 1934 and it encouraged artists to portray the American scene. Many of the paintings depicted the American dream for a brighter future. As these idealistic visions were crated away, new art went up from local Florida artists. In a side gallery paintings by Ron Van Sweringen were being hung. These paintings looked like Jackson Pollack drip paintings. The difference being that Pollack spread his canvases on the floor letting the paint drip down. Ron placed his canvases on a wall and then threw the paint at it. He referred to his painting method as “Astroism.”

After the meeting I decided to sketch as the new exhibit, called “Fla-Art,” was installed. A worker stenciled up the title of the show above the reception desk. The first new work to go up was of a man pushing aside a curtain and gazing out at the viewer. It has an ominous weight to it. Most of the other work was still from the New Deal. A miner drilled for coal, men pushed large blocks of ice in an ice house, men marched through a field to work.

As I sketched a young woman asked the receptionist about renting the museum for a wedding. She was given brochures and suggestions. Several artists walked in with canvases. I was impressed by some of the work waiting to be hung. The Fla-Art show is opening May 13th from 6-8pm. Members get in free and non-members pay $5. There will be a cash bar. The Florida Artists show will be on display through September 25th 2011.

Evenings with the Director. On Tuesdays 6/14, 7/12, 8/9, 9/13, 6pm experience an evening with museum Director Frank Holt. The walk is included in general admission. Reservations required. Call (407) 246.4278

Family Days are on Sundays, 6/12, 7/10, 8/14, 9/11 starting at 12:30pm with family arts and crafts activities and a children’s workshop at 1pm. At 2pm there is a FREE guided tour.

Portobello at San Lorenzo

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Terry loves old forts. Rainald drove us to San Lorenzo. The ruin of the fort was perched on top of a cliff high above the mouth of the Chargres River. It was first built in 1595 by Spaniards to protect all the South American gold being shipped down the river. It was destroyed by pirate Henry Morgan in 1671 and rebuilt shortly afterward. Morgan captured the fort by shooting flaming arrows which ignited the Spanish gunpowder forcing the troops to surrender. The jungle surrounding the fort was used for decades as a jungle training area by the U.S. military. On the drive in we spotted a large falcon feasting on its bloody prey high up in a branch.

Terry and I wandered the ruins together for a while rushing from one shady spot to the next, then she encouraged me to sketch while she read a book in the shade. I was delighted when she suggested I do a second sketch. Rainald was talking to a Scandinavian couple who had pulled up in an RV. They planned to camp overnight at the fort, and they chatted for quite some time in Swedish. I was feeling great after finishing the second sketch and I started walking back to the shady tree where Terry was reading her book. I was surprised when she met me half way in the forts mote.

She held up her cell phone showing me the calender. She said, “Does this day mean anything to you?” It was April 28th, her birthday. I hadn’t looked at a calender since we arrived in Panama. “Oh shit,” I thought. She was visibly upset and I didn’t know how to make it up to her. As we sat in the shade of the crumbling ruins, Rainald cheerfully approached us, and we had to shout out that we needed some time alone. A week has gone by and I still haven’t mended my oversight. I’m not sure I can. I really messed up this time. As I approach 50 I carelessly loose myself searching for the next creative rush. I loose sight of what is most important in life, perhaps overconfident in the impregnable strength of marriage.

Snap Mothers Day Reception

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The main photography exhibit for Snap was on the 5th floor of the GIA Building (618 East South Street.) I parked in Thornton Park and walked to the building. The exhibit took up the entirety of the 5th floor which was still under construction. Overhead, air ducts and beams were exposed. The walls had exposed insulation and raw metal studs. It was a wide open industrial loft. Surreal fanciful photos were everywhere. One large area was separated from the rest with a long black curtain. I stepped inside the ominous space. Large three foot high black and white photos shot by Barry Kirsch hung from the ceiling one after the other in two rows. Every photo was of a murder scene with one element, a gold watch, appearing in each shot. Most of the shots felt staged but as a whole the effect was disturbing and desensitizing.

After seeing everything I decided to focus by sketching the Dan Eldon exhibit. Mothers slowly began to arrive, and it was heart warming to watch them share the art with their children. This was an opportunity to spend quality time away from the distractions of TV and video games. They could share wild creative thoughts with abandon. Dan Eldon’s mom, Kathy, came to the exhibit and she offered a guided tour of her son’s photo journals.Dan was born in 1970 in England. When he was seven years old the family moved to Nairobi Kenya. This began his lifelong infatuation with Africa. His mom was a journalist and he accompanied her on interviews. His father worked with local community leaders. From his parents he learned how to transfer ideas into positive life affirming actions. A creative activist is someone who uses thought or imagination to catalyze positive change in our world.

He returned to Africa when he was 22 and photographed the horrible effects of famine in Somalia. His images helped spearhead a large international relief effort. He used his art to affect a positive change. Throughout his life he kept journals in which he would create expressive collages. The exhibit consisted of large screens on which large prints were made of pages from his journals. These pages offered a personal glimpse into his adventurous life. I jotted down a few of the quotes from his pages, “The most important part of vehicle maintenance is clean windows, so if you are stranded you will enjoy the view.” “Death is just a horizon and the horizon is only the extent of your view.”

On July 12, 1997 Dan Eldon was stoned and beaten to death while covering the conflict in Mogadishu, Somalia. He was just 22 years old. His mother, though devastated, had to find a positive way to deal with her grief. She formed an organization called Creative Visions and published Dan’s journals in a book called, “The Journey is the Destination.” She is intent to share his creative vision with the world. This mothers Day I got to meet an extraordinary mom. A mother’s love is eternal.