Teaching Through the Arts Book Signing

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Susan Bright hosted a book signing at her home in Winter Park on April 7th. The book, Teaching Through the ARTS: WRITING Volume 1, was written by Susan Rosoff and Mary Palmer. I was one of the first guests to arrive and I sketched the dining nook where the authors were going to sign books. Gradually the place grew crowded, but I kept my attention focused on the authors. I’ve met Mary Palmer often at other arts and charity events around town. She is a huge supporter of incorporating art in education.

I was introduced to several intriguing artists at this signing. One artist, Susan Sorenson, did the colorful wire sculptures that were in front of the Orlando Museum of Art. Her work is exhibited across the country and apparently the pieces are quite heavy. Another artist, Que Throm, has a second home out in San Miguel Mexico with an art studio that she shares with her husband, Cicero Greathouse, who is also a renowned abstract painter. I was pleased that she knew about and respected the work that I do. It seems that my sketehes were used as inspiration for a drawing workshop that Que attended. Such a small world.

I quickly thumbed through the book, Teaching Through the Arts, and was pleased to see that Vincent Van Gogh‘s paintings were used to illustrate principles talked about. A letter written by Vincent to his brother Theo discussed what Vincent was trying to express in his work. Theo helped support his brother’s addiction to art by sending small sums of money that often went towards paint rather than food.

The dining nook windows offered a scenic view of a lake and sunlight filled the room that buzzed with excited conversations. I had two Cokes that kept me buzzing as I sketched.

Kerouac House Reading, Brooks Teevan

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On Saturday June 27th, Terry and I went to a reading by Brooks Teevan at the Kerouac House (1418 Clouser Ave, Orlando, FL 32804). The Kerouac House was recently added to the National Register of Historic Places and a small brass plaque next to the front door proudly displays this humble building’s new status. Brooks Teevan came to the Kerouac House for the Summer of 2013. Her work has appeared in The Little Patuxent Review. It has also won Northwestern University’s TriQuarterly Fiction Prize and the University of Chicago’s Writer’s Studio Student Prize. Brooks hails from San Francisco and more recently Chicago.

Brooks story was fun and quirky with some unexpected turns. One character wore a nautically themed dress which is ironically what Brooks wore for her reading. One of the guests at a dinner party turned out to be an alien, literally. Hmmm, that might be a spoiler alert. Back up a sentence and strike that from the record. Geoff Benge sat like “The Thinker” in the audience, leaning forward to soak in every word.

After the reading, there was wine and conversation. Steve McCall told me about an open forum called “Sundowning” he started for people who care for Alzheimer patients. Apparently a person with Alzheimers can function normally during the day, but at night, they get aggressive and are prone to wander. The term refers to a psychological state of
confusion and restlessness that begins at dusk and during evening hours
while the sun is setting. I thought “Sundowners” would be a good title of a horror film in which aging baby boomers would wander the city streets in the evenings causing havoc and mayhem. Granted it is tasteless but it could make for an amazing apocalyptic film. Wait, wouldn’t you know, I’m too late. A film titled, “Sundowning” has been made already. Just my luck.

Any Road Will Take You There

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Terry and I went to the Kerouac House (1418 Clouser Street Orlando FL) on Saturday, July 20th at 8PM to hear David Berner read from his book “Any Road Will Take You There: A Journey of Fathers and Sons“. David, a past resident author at the Kerouac House, now resides in Chicago. He felt his life was at an impasse and decided to take a road trip with his sons to loosely follow Jack Kerouac‘s journey’s cross country. Rather than travel in a vintage automobile, he decided to travel in an RV. One of his sons said, “Its not cool dad, it is a tin can.” Regardless his son was up for the adventure.

David found a family photo which hinted at strained relations due to infidelity. He realized he had never been told about the hurt feelings and anger as he grew up. He wanted to know his own sons better. The mid-life “On the Road” trip would be a way to connect. While writing in the Kerouac House, David felt Jack’s presence in the back room and he decided that is where he would have to write.  David knew quite a bit about self publishing saying most authors never sell more than one thousand books.

After the reading David signed books at the dining room table. Brooks Teevan, the present resident artist, told us all about a news cast about a plane crash of Asiana Flight 214. The names of the pilots had been researched and a call to an intern at the MTSB confirmed the names. The captain was Sum Ting Wong, and the other pilots were Wi To Lo, Ho Lee Fuk, and Bang Ding Ow. The newscaster never skipped a beat as she read the names off the teleprompter. Someone must have been playing a prank which somehow slipped through the rigorous checks needed before the story aired. As horrible as the news of the crash was, it was impossible not to laugh. Long after the conversation had moved on to a more literary topic, Terry kept laughing uncontrollably. Just when she could catch her breath, she would start again and everyone would join in.

UCF Book Festival

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On April 13th, Terry and I went to the UCF Book Festival in the UCF Arena. We actually had to take separate cars since I had to teach at Full Sail right afterwards. The central court area of the arenas was jammed full of booths full of authors selling their signed books. Terry actually knew one of the first authors, Elizabeth Allen, who wrote a book called, “Who Got Liz Gardner“. The book is about the sexual exploits of the young author. I haven’t read it, but Terry loved it. Liz sat at the table with her husband who was also an author. The table had a divider down the middle. Liz met her husband at an acting workshop where actors had to break up into teams. Liz wasn’t paired with anyone, and the instructor asked the class, “Who got Liz Garner? The title implies the question, “Who married Liz Gardner?”

We bumped into a lawyer who is also an author, He advised me to start putting large watermarks on my sketched to avoid people using my work online for free. I am experimenting with watermarks now but really want to avoid a rude symbol that dominates every drawing. The lawyer was saddened by some of the authors who self published books and had no distribution plans other than at small book festivals like this. Large areas of stadium seating were blocked off with black cloth drops. I took up the challenge to sketch the overall view of the cavernous space while Terry explored more authors talks. Several authors in my sketch were giving a talk to three or four people seated in the stands. The audience might have just been family.

Storm Troopers invaded the children’s reading area and then patrolled the show floor along with some Jedi and Sith Lords. I take Star Wars as a movie franchise not a classic novel, but I suppose the kids didn’t care. A UCF football uniform was set up as a photo opportunity where you could wedge your face above the shoulder pads to look like you were in uniform. I later discovered that authors, Bob Kealing and Jeff Kunerth were at the Book Fair and somehow I missed them.

On the Center stage a poetry slam began with a half full audience in 5 rows of folding seats. After the sketch was done, Terry and I got some free Slurpees. Terry had seen enough so we headed out. We grabbed some lunch a Logan’s Steakhouse and then I went off to work.

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park

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Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings wrote the Pulitzer Prize winning Novel “The Yearling” while at a typewriter on a hand made table on the front porch of this old batten board house first built in 1884. Marjorie moved into the home in 1928. She renovated the building adding indoor plumbing which was incredibly modern for the day. The home is in Cross Creek which was a several hour drive north of Orlando. The property has a small orange grove, a barn, tenant house, a garden and plenty of chickens and ducks. Terry took the tour while I sketched the 1940 Oldsmobile in the carport. The Yearling was written in 1938 and it was made into a movie staring Gregory Peck in 1946.

One of the women on Terry’s tour had been to the Rawlings home before. She thought that the ducks on the property were animatronics since they have no fear of humans.  She decided to step over a duck and one of the caretakers insisted she leave. When the tour reached the south porch, which is in my sketch, the tour guide told the story of the ice man delivering ice for the ice box. He found a snarling raccoon in there and told Marjorie he wouldn’t return until she removed the varmint.

The guest bedroom had such distinguished guests as poet Robert Frost, authors Margaret Mitchell and Thornton Wilder, artist N.C. Wyeth and actor Gregory Peck. Marjorie was friends with author Zora Neale Hurston from Eatonville Florida. She visited Marjorie but since Zora was black she couldn’t sleep in the house. She had to sleep in the tiny tenant house with the help out in the orange grove.

A bold red rooster lead a brood of hens around the yard and the ducks seemed content to soak up the sun.  Fluffy new born duck chicks bobbed like corks in a small pool near the hen house. Time really feels like it has stood still at the Rawlings home. Marjorie died in 1958. Major restoration to the home was completed in 1996 and preservation work is ongoing.

Terry and I had lunch at the Yearling Restaurant down the road where Willie Green played the blues.  A sparrow seemed intent on getting inside. It flapped its wings and fluttered up and down against the window pane unable to pass through the mysterious glass. The fried green tomatoes and catfish were fried and filling.

“Bless Us”, I thought, “the world must be hungry.” And so it is. Hungry for food and drink-not so much for the mouth as for the mind; not for the stomach, but for the spirit.””

– Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

There Will Be Words

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On December 11th, I went to the final installment of “There Will be Words” for 2012 at Urban ReThink, (625 East Central Boulevard, Orlando).  Officially it was the end of the second year of these monthly readings by local authors. Jesse Bradley was the host.  The authors who read this month were,

Hunter Choate,
Rachel Kolman,
Jonathan Kosik,
and Leslie Salas

Flirt. 

I sketched from my perch on the second floor balcony.  I liked Jonathan Kosik’s story titled “Pensacola.” The story told was of pristine sand beaches turned into hazardous sites by thick merciless oil from a spill in the Gulf. Men in hazmet suits worked tractors that pushed the black sand up and down the beachfront.  Lifeguard stations stood empty. As the well spilled into the Gulf, the narrator tried to reach his wife by phone. There were irreconcilable differences. Lawyers sent papers that needed signing. 223 calls had been made. “A long drawn out period of litigation, mixed with harassment charges, would only delay the cleanup of what had turned into an ugly situation.” Experts believe the Gulf might restore itself in 50 years. For those who lived through the damage, the loss would last a lifetime.

On display at ReThink was a black dress on a manikin made entirely of plastic garbage bags.  The plastic was folded into ornate roses that decorated the bust and lower skirt of the dress. Dina Mack pointed out that the dress had a zipper in back and, if you were thin enough, you could wear it. I imagine it would get rather hot especially in the Florida sun. The International Academy of Design and Technology assigned groups of students to design the dresses. They were on display at various Thornton Park businesses. The schools slogan is “You imagine, we get you there.”

The next “There Will be Words” will be on February 12th at Urban ReThink. Authors mingle around 6PM and the readings begin around 7PM. You never know what stories might surface or sink beneath the black waves.

A Room with a View

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Terry and I took the Paris metro from the airport to Hotel Pantheon. We were delighted to find out that out that we had been upgraded to a room with a view. A municipal building in the square in front of the Pantheon had a wedding ceremony going on.  Colorful confetti was thrown over the coulee as they left the building. A crowd of guests stood in the street afterwards. A wedding photographer took pictures of the couple with the Pantheon as a backdrop. There was no mad rush to get to a reception. A large vintage sedan with its chauffeur was waiting at the corner.

This view was from the hotel window and it was the first sketch I did in Paris after I opened the window shutters. It was obvious from the start that there would be no shortage of interesting subjects in this city. Terry and I went inside the Pantheon to look around. In the basement there were catacombs with crypts. One room held the remains of authors Victor Hugo, 1807-1885, and Emile Zola, 1840-1902. The Pantheon had a huge pendulum suspended from the large central dome. There was an exhibit of original manuscripts from Jean Jacques Rousseau. Terry and I looked through but didn’t linger. Murals and statuary decorated every corner and alcove of the interior. One huge room housed a scale model of the Pantheon itself.

It was good that our hotel was near this major landmark since it helped us navigate back after we got lost on the myriad of angular rooked streets of Paris. Inevitably we were always lost since there was no grid pattern to follow.  Streets would often end at public places and only a few of thee street names ever seemed to actually be on the map. Once while I was trying to read the map, a little old French lady walked right into me to push me aside. She was like an ant unable to consider the notion of walking around. The country celebrates youth even more than America, so perhaps that is why the older ladies seem so bitter. I eventually abandoned the maps and wandered the streets by instinct and feel. Every turn would result in another stunning find so that is when the adventure begins. It only became important to get a feel for where the River Seine was in relation to where we were.

Authors at the Drunken Monkey

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My plan was to sketch an album release party and concert for Everyday Ghosts. I was early so I ordered some food and an iced coffee at The Drunken Monkey (444 North Bumby Avenue  Orlando). There was a group of authors seated at the table in front of me and I couldn’t resist a sketch. Much of the conversation centered around self publishing and how that has changed the scene for authors. There was some discussion about how social media has changed how they promote their work. Each author had something unique to add based on their experiences. I really should have taken notes. I could have learned a thing or two. A woman who looked like a naval officer had dinner alone while reading her iPad. As a matter of fact all the other costomers were staring at computer screens.

When I was finished, I walked across Bumby Avenue towards the Plaza Theater. I was surprised that there wasn’t a crowd at the entrance. Something was wrong. I stood outside the locked, darkened theater and double checked my calendar on my iPhone. Unbelievable! The concert was NEXT week! I was going to be out of town so I would miss the big premiere. Thank goodness I sketched while I ate dinner.

I no longer go to Drunken Monkey since they used one of my
sketches without consulting me on their Internet welcome page. I usually
support local businesses but I can’t support theft.

Soft Exposure

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Soft Exposure happens on the 4th Wednesday of every month. Frankie Messina has taken over as host for Soft Exposure at Infusion Tea (1600 Edgewater Dr College Park). Naomi Butterfield used to host this open mic night but she recently moved to Gabon. Frankie has added his own flair to this night of poetry and prose. When I arrived, he was still setting up. He had a stack of vinyl records and he spun his favorites as people arrived. Billy Holiday‘s silky voice greeted me. Frankie runs a local arts support organization called Apartment E. Formed in 1993 it offers local love and support. He came up with phrase “City Beautiful” and he owns the online domain.

Artist Janae Corrado set up a display of her oil paintings and pencil sketches.  Her work has a flavor of the surreal while remaining grounded. Frankie asked her to talk about her work between readings. She was hesitant but finally stepped up to the mic. Her work is personal and she tries to keep titles and themes open as she is working on a painting. She has been painting for five years now but has been an artist since she was a child. She feels the Orlando art scene has plenty of talent, much of it unrecognized. The Florida art market tends to be driven by tourism with the exception of Miami which might be its own country. The largest painting she brought was of a woman with horns in front of a bare tree. The model for this painting was Kassandra Kharis. Kassandra was an amazing local artist who took her own life several days ago. I was shocked and humbled by the news from her friend Tracy Lulu Brown. Kassandra’s work is dark and mysterious. She appeared in an isolated sketch I did in Blank Space. I spoke to Janae briefly about Kassandra and her eyes lit up as she talked about how Kassandra wore antlers to an opening to look just like her painting. Laughter and joy in memories masked the loss.

Joe Rosier started the evening off with a poem he wrote at Fringe about a microphone not in use on the empty outdoor stage. He lamented the lost opportunity and endless potential that went unnoticed. Frankie read an amazing poem about lines. Like the line in the sand, the line we are meant not to cross. I wish I had heard this poem as I worked on the Mennello Museum line mural. There were emotional sparks flying in the poems. Several times my eyes burned and had to be wiped dry on my sleeve. Several tourists were in the room. They flew from Australia to Orlando to attend an Avatar self help course. They read from a group exercise handbook. I felt a bit uncomfortable as the material had a cult tinge to it, but in the end their message was of compassion and understanding which is what any art form should aspire to. A poet apologized for not writing much recently. He then recited The Love Song of Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot. I love this poem, which I first read in high school. Now that my hair grows thin and grey, the poem has added impact and meaning as I search and scratch out images every day.  Curtis Meyer ended the evening with an emotional spoken word piece about the inventor of the inner circuitry in microphones. The thrust of his poem rushed forwards and back like a DJ spinning vinyl to a rap beat. The evening had come full circle.

I left feeling inspired and uplifted, yet sad that talent could burn so bright and often go unnoticed in an indifferent world.

Sweetheart Deals – Beth Raymer

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Terry and I went to a farewell reading by Beth Raymer at the Kerouac House. Beth had been working for the past month on a novel entitled Sweetheart Deals as a writer in residence. Her first book, Lay the Favorite: A Memoir of Gambling was a huge success and it is being made into a film directed by Stephen Frears (High Fidelity, The Grifters), starring Bruce Willis, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Rebecca Hall who I assume is playing Beth. It is slated to open next year. The success of her first book meant Beth was inundated with interviews and appearances. She confided she wasn’t much of a public figure and she found all the attention distracted from her continued desire to write. The Kerouac House writer in residence program came just when she needed a chance to get away and focus on her new novel.

She was charmingly nervous as she introduced her new book, speaking a mile a minute. She curled her hair with her index finger and delicately pointed her cowboy boot inward, twisting the curve of her leg. Having written a memoir, she was used to reporting facts and her new novel recreated her family dynamic when she was six years old. The story is largely about a man based on her father, a boisterous salesman who, as it turned out had a mistress. She described the mistress in loving detail, describing the diminutive qualities that attracted her father’s attention. At one point he needed money so he set fire to his business. Beth consulted with local insurance agents to see if the facts of her story worked. The story is set in Florida, so Beth was glad to return to feel the humidity and see lizards dashing under foot. Vivid childhood memories surfaced. She liked to work at the kitchen table in the Kerouac House, often editing in the afternoons. Like Jack Kerouac she has lived a vibrant unconventional life. She is new to Facebook and on a dark evening she got a friend request from a mysterious Jack from beyond the grave.

Beth seemed to enjoy the sketch, although as usual the nose is a bit off. There were so many talented people in the house that evening. Kelly Medford who lives in Rome is a plein air painter who does a painting a day. Authors stood in the open kitchen doorway laughing about local characters. Patrick Greene told me about a harvest of sugar cane that would make a great, “Old Florida” sketch opportunity. Leaning against a stove, a young man in a baseball cap pulled a bright fire engine red flask from a hip pocket and the final drops were emptied into a drink.

Beth offered me some delicious fruit salad she had prepared. In the kitchen, she talked about how odd it was that so many British actors were in the movie version of her first book. The screenplay writer, DeVincentis, brought his background to the story and the director had his personal vision. It must have been hard to give up control especially when it is the story of her life. I told her how I felt I gave up my artistic identity when I worked for Disney Feature Animation, and how I’m just now rediscovering that inner voice. She raised her cup of wine and we toasted.