SECAC: Opening Reception

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I drove to Winston Salem, North Carolina to attend a SECAC Conference with Stella Arbelaéz Tascón. SECAC stands for Southeastern College Art Conference. I was brought in as an illustrative journalist to cover the convention with sketches. Since I was offered a press pass, I felt I had to sketch every session I attended.

The drive to North Carolina was 10 hours, which was divided into two driving sessions. By the time we arrived at the Conference we were both exhausted. Stella’s world traveling mini poodle named Boo Boo came along for the Conference. Since we arrived late, there was no time to get him into a doggie day care. So, Stella brought him into the Conference in her shoulder bag. There is a hole in the shoulder bag which allows just Boo’s head to stick out. Most people never notice him or they think he is a plush stuffed animal.

The invitation said that the Opening Reception would happen in Salem 2, which was a large conference room. Outside that room there was plenty of small bites on tables, and each attendee got two drink tickets. Since I was waiting for the Salem 2 doors to open, I decided to get a plate of food and a white wine. I was feeling a bit tipsy from the single wine since I never drink. When I had finished the veggies, I had picked out for my dinner, I found that the Salem 2 Conference doors had still not opened. I opened one door and peaked inside to find a vast space filled with chairs. I decided to get a sweet slice of pie since I still had time to kill before I started my sketch.

When I finished my pie, I realized that the Salem 2 Conference room doors would never open. This informal gathering in the hallway was the event. I quickly whipped out my artist stool and sat down to sketch. Staff noticed me setting up and they complimented my on bringing along my own chair.

Then I dug into my art bag and pulled out my sketchbook. I had two sketchbooks to document the Conference. The small sketchbook I had used in the hotel room to write down the Conference Center address. I had then placed the sketchbook on my bed and forgot about it. At least I had the large hardbound sketchbook to work with. Then I realized I forgot my pen and pencil travel case. How on earth was I going to do a sketch, I didn’t have my art pencils, pens or watercolor brushes. Digging through my pockets I discovered I had a single yellow Ticonderoga pencil. I also had my watercolor palette but no brushes to apply the paint.

I had to put something on the page, so I started doing a very rough sketch with my pencil. Then I started applying watercolor with my finger and a rag. I wasn’t about to apply many colors I just needed to get something on the page.

While struggling with my sketch, I met Mina Rezghian. Mina is a University of South Carolina MFA candidate, She had three pieces on exhibit in the Annual SECAC Juried Exhibition. Thanks to exchanging Instagram information, I got to see some of her work. I briefly got to learn a little about her childhood in Iran. She mentioned a flood that washed away her collection of plush rabbits. My little sister had a plush rabbit that she held so often that it started to fall apart. She held the rabbit by its long partly detached ear and the rabbits butt dragged on the ground as my sister dragged it around. Mina’s childhood was washed away in a flash. Her father came to America feeling he could find a better life. Mina’s work reflects memories of a life that was tender and sweet and yet she came from a country that our President decided to bomb. On February 28, 2026 a U.S. Tomahawk missile struck an elementary school in Minab Iran, killing at least 156 people including 120 children and 26 teachers. After the brief conversation with Mina, I had a million more questions, but this is just an example of the amazing people that can be met at such an inspiring Conference.

In the Juried exhibition, Mina had two wooden pieces that had weathered photographs and that felt like antique momentous. A tiny photo of her cat walking in Mina’s grandmother’s courtyard was faded and yet evoked tender memories. The wooden panels were cut by Mina and she said the wood panels she had assembled stained and varnished held memories. I was lucky to meet this artist as I struggled with my sketch and at her opening at the juried group art show at Emerson Fine Arts Center at Salem College.

 

Play Coach Story Swap

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Jeff Wirth is a dynamic theatrical powerhouse in the interactive Orlando Theater Community. I sketched some of his unique workshops and productions early in my Orlando sketch a day journey. In one workshop he demonstrated the proper way to roll up electrical chords. You wind the chord between your wrist and elbow and every other turn the chord needs to be flipped to take away some of the rotational tension. Anyway, I think of Jeff every time I roll up a chord after working in the shop.

Jeff is the director at the Interactive Play lab. The Play Lab fosters Interactive performance  where audience members become co-creators of performed fiction. The Interactive PlayLab provides resources and training for creators of interactive performance. Jeff offers books, e-books, apps and templates to help performers meet their full potential,

Jeff moved to New York for a number of years and he dropped off my radar. When he returned to Orlando he immediately promoted his Interactive Play experiences on Facebook. I signed up but wanted to find a way to also sketch the experience. Sketching is how I play. I recruited a dear friend, Stella Arbeláez to also participate. The experience involved sharing stories and I know she is exceptional at sharing her story.

We met Jeff at the entrance to Dickson Azalea Park. I was looking at the possibility of buying a home in the Azalea Park area, so I considered it a sign that the universe was speaking to me. The home it turns out had termites that had infested all the roof rafters. Since I wasn’t up to rebuilding the home from the inside out, I abandoned the sale. All the reconstruction costs would have added over $100,000 to the price.

We walked with Jeff through the park until we came to a bench that overlooked a babbling stream. Jeff and Stella sat on the bench and I set up my little artist stool to sketch. Boo Boo jumped up on Stella’s lap and settled in. He was having a grand time with all the new smells to be found in Azalea park.

The structure of the Story Swap was pretty straight forward, Jeff asked a few questions and let Stella relate her stories of  shock and recovery. I will not recount what she discussed, they are her stories to tell, but they left me feeling inspired that the creative human spirit is incredibly resilient.  She took a sip from her aluminum water canister between tales.

Jeff then relayed his own story of a young relationship which had to end, yet there was no animosity in the separation. They both loved one another but work pulled the couple in different directions. They walked into divorce court holding hands. Having lived through a bitter divorce that probably still clouds my dark view of what a relationship can become, and having a marriage proposal refused, I found his story of loving separation surprising and ideal. Like an army retreating, my bridges are demolished with explosives.

I was so elated to have two of my dear friends relating such intimate and heart warming stories the very first time they met. When I look at social media or follow politics I see nothing but stories of violence and deception. I make it a policy that once I see a punch thrown on social media I turn it off and instead go about doing a sketch. Sitting with Jeff and Stella made me feel that there is still hope for friends to share meaningful stories that show how the human spirit can grow despite life’s challenges. Life can be a playful challenging adventure that is meant to be shared.

After the story swap, Jeff walked off, and Stella and I decided to do a painting in the park. We walked off to the car to get art supplies and when we got there, Stella realized she didn’t have her aluminum water canister. She riffled through the car but it wan’t there. She must have left it on the bench by the stream. We hiked back into Azalea Park toward the bench. As we got close, I noticed a man walking towards the bench. He was with his ten year old son. The dad picked up the water canister and started to walk off. We ran after him shouting out that the canister was Stella’s. He was happy to surrender it. Another of life’s tragedies had been narrowly averted.

The Foundation

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After driving for several thousand miles, too and from Oklahoma City, it felt good to get back to Lake County and relax. The second I arrived however, I had a virtual student online waiting to join the zoom classroom. With the last tank of gas I had been racing against the clock. Google Maps showed my exact arrival time and when I stopped to get gas, that arrival time slipped by 4 minutes. I had to start speeding to be sure I got back in time. Driving 5 or 10 miles per hour over the speed limit slowly gained me a couple of minutes.

I was in charge of taking care of Boo Boo, an adorable grey toy poodle,  for a couple of days. When I got in, he was locked in a bedroom. It turned out that the robot vacuum cleaner had managed to close the bedroom door, locking him inside. He was beside himself frantically barking to let me know how horrible it was to be locked up for several hours. While consoling him, I set up my iPad and tried to join the Zoom meeting. Since I had used the computer in Oklahoma City, Zoom didn’t accept my present location. It took 10 or 15 minutes for me to wrangle the settings and get online.

To say I was stressed starting the lesson is an understatement. However as the student and I started animating that stress melted away. By the end of the class the student had to remind me that the lesson time was over. I could have kept animating for several more hours.

I needed a nap. Sitting still, I still felt like I was in motion. My seat swayed with the imagined bumps in the road. I sat down on the couch but outside the lawn guy had decided it was time to trim and cut the lawn. Despite the racket, and the occasional stone striking the window next to me, i nodded off for a much needed rest. Boo snugged up next to me in his dog bed made from a small wicker basket and a pillow. When I awoke it was past midnight. I wanted to write an article, but decided I had lost the day anyway. I stumbled off to bed.

At 7am the next morning, I awoke the the sound of construction. A cement truck was churning out cement and an M shaped crane was pumping out the slurry next door. One particularly big fellow, that looked like John Henry was smoothing the surface with a trowel. I was wide awake at this point, so Boo and I set up in the shade of a tree in the front yard and sketched the proceedings. The foundation is much higher than the foundations of the houses on either side of the construction site. When the next hurricane blows in there will be no flooding on that property, but all the water will drain down onto the much lower property I was sitting on which will become a lake.

No Humans

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I got to spend time watching Boo Boo for Stella Arbeláez Tascón when she went to Georgia for a woman’s art conference.

The last time I watched Boo, he left several calling cards on the floor when I had to go out to do a sketch for several hours.  Boo gets quite attached and will howl if he is left alone. I live most of my life alone, so I can’t understand his dilemma.

One of the pillows on the couch said, “No Humans on Couch.” I always feel a little guilty sitting on his prime real estate.

This sketch was done late in the day after many hours of working at my desk. I needed to relax and Boo is always ready for some rest and relaxation.

No lights were on in the room, and I kept sketching as the room god darker and darker. Once I finished sketching, then I sat back and turned on a side table lamp and started to read The Eye of the Artist. I have slowly been reading this book ever since I had an operation to try and fix the double vision caused by my left eye. The reading has been going slow since the type in the book is so small that it is difficult to rad given my condition.

Webster Westside Flea Market

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By Thomas Thorspecken

My friend Stella P. Alberaéz Tascón and I went to sketch and shop at the Webster Westside Flea Market. This produce sales area is just a fraction of what can be found at the market. We set up on and near a wooden bench.

Stella’s little grey dog, Boo Boo was a star attracting the attention of so many patrons who were entering the market. He would stretch out the leash to get all the attention and pets. Stella remarked that she heard the faint barking of dogs, but I couldn’t hear a thing.

The stand we were sketching has been at the market for three generations. There were green peppers, cucumbers, green beans and other assorted fresh produce. Some of the sellers had thick southern accents which they played up.

With our sketches complete we began to shop. Stella had a little granny cart which saved us the trouble of carrying so many bags of vegetables. I got some bananas, apples and Stella introduced me to three Colombian fruits, Tamarind, Passion Fruit and Mamey, also known as Zapote. I now have a jar of Tamarind which comes in brown pea shaped pods. The fruit is delicious, being a deep red and having a sharp and sweet taste. Mamey is an amazing sweet snack, being bright yellow inside with soft edible seeds and the passion fruit is bright orange inside and easily scooped up with a spoon. Stella, who was born in Colombia, and came to America when she was 15, explained that you could have a different fruit every day of the year in Colombia and never run short of varieties.

Next to these market stalls there were many young puppies for sale in cages. Some pups looked playful while other looked like they were desperate to escape. Behind all these stalls is a vast array of stalls called the Swaporama, for flea market items. I haven’t explored this area yet. I am imagining it is like Renninger’s in Mount Dora but multiplied by 10. I enjoy shopping at this market where you can get fruit at a fraction of what you would pay at Publix. There is also an area of a cattle auction which I hope to return to and sketch.