No More Drunken Monkey

Posted on by Thor

I stopped off at the Drunken Monkey, (444 N Bumby Ave, Orlando, FL.) to meet Terry before heading to a party at Matt Rankin‘s house which was right down the street. The party was for Amanda and Matt Simantov who had just been married. Matt explained that the celebration was known as Ma’sshe Kanut. Ma’shhe Kanut is a Jewish Custom where friends wish the Bride and Groom Farewell before they returned home to their Seattle homeland.

A Traditional Ma’sshe Kanut is held at the friend of the bride. Ancient Rabbinic Law mandates a Fire to burn from the beginning of Ma’sshe Kanut (1 hour after sundown) until the last guest takes a hint that everyone wants to go to bed. If this is your first Ma’sshe Kanut, it is customary to bring Kosher Yuengling, Kosher Doritos, or Kosher something everyone will like.

Terry was running a little late, so I figured I had enough time to dash off a quick sketch over a cup of coffee. As always people sat transfixed, staring at computer screens, but who am I to talk. I’m staring at a computer screen right now. Jessica Pauli who is a band promoter was having a meeting at the next table over. All that I overheard is that the venue being discussed had a large comfortable green room. I wonder if I had sketched in that greenroom?

Terry arrived as the last watercolor washes were drying. We walked together down to Matt’s house. Matt was in the backyard nursing the fire pit. It was a cold night so I rotated periodically like a pig on a spit. Chairs circled the fire and soon everyone arrived. Marshmallows were roasted on sticks.  I had a stick with multiple branches but I only roasted one marshmallow. Brian Feldman had come from Washington D.C. to witness the wedding and after this fireside chat, Amanda and Matt would fly off to Washington State.

It was toward the end of the evening when I discovered that there is no such thing as a Ma’ssh Kanut. Matt had made up the word. That didn’t detract from the warmth and fellowship of the fire. 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.

Amanda and Matt Simantov Wedding

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On January 19th Amanda and Matt Simantov were married at Congregation Ohev Shalom Synagogue (613 Concourse Parkway South, Maitland Florida). Terry and I had attended a dinner party as well, but that was on the day of rest, so I wasn’t permitted to sketch. All the men at the wedding were encouraged to wear yamakas which are small caps that just cover the bald spot on a man’s head. Each yamaka came with a hair pin to help hold it in place. I buzz cut my hair, so there wasn’t anything to attach the hair clip to. At the reception before the wedding, I walked around the room like there was a text book balanced on my head. I ordered a soda however and realized that I would have to tip my head back when I drank. A straw would have solved the problem, but I didn’t see any. Whenever I drank, my yamaka would flop off onto the floor.

Plan B. There was a sushi bar. I’ve always found sushi rice to be rather sticky. Rather than eat the sushi I picked up, I dissected it, removing the raw fish and sea weed.  I then took the rice and molded it into a Frisbee shaped disk which I then placed inside the yamaka. I pressed it onto my head and regained my head mobility. As the rice dried, it must have lost its stickiness because just as I entered the Synagogue and looked up at the immense sun lit vaulted ceiling, it popped off again. I sat rice less through the service and avoided tilting my head as I sketched.

Terry and I sat sandwiched between Mark Baratelli and Brian Feldman both of whom claimed that they first introduced the wedding couple. During the service, one of the brides maids must have locked her knees because she nearly fainted and had to be moved to a pew by the brides maids around her. The officiant must have missed all the activity because he didn’t miss a beat.

The reception was also in the Synagogue. The photographer was testing out huge flash umbrellas, one of which war right next to the table Terry and I sat at. The flashes were blinding and constant, so I got up and sat across the room on a couch until the green spots stopped dancing in my vision. Elizabeth Drake Forbes gave a moving speech in which she listed all the amazing events Amanda had attended or helped organize while she was here in Orlando. Amanda had just moved to Seattle to be with Matt and that is where they returned to after the wedding. Amanda hasn’t acclimated herself there yet, so Elizabeth’s speech caused her to cry since she has had to let dear friends go to strike out and create a new life across the continent.

For the first dance, Amanda lip synced to a song by Debbie Gibson titled “Lost in Your Eyes” as she danced with Matt. Couples and friends crowded into a photo booth for regal commemorative shots, and of course there was dancing. When Matt was raised up in a chair for the traditional couples dance, he began to slip forward because the four guys couldn’t support his weight evenly. Terry shouted that I needed to help so I squeezed in and lifted it back up just in time. I wonder what kind of bad luck would have haunted the couple had Matt fallen from the chair. All the guests were given sparklers and they created a tunnel leading to the car as the couple ran from the reception to start their new life as husband and wife.

The Feldman Dynamic

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When performance artist Brian Feldman lived in Orlando, I tried to sketch as many of his performances as I could. Nearly two years ago he moved to Washington, D.C where he has only done one performance piece, a “friend building” experience called “BFF” for the Capital Fringe Festival. I lost all contact with him after the move since my primary interest was always in sketching and writing about his performance concepts. Orlando lost an unusual and unique artist when Brian left, and I lost a major source of inspiration.

“The Feldman Dynamic” was first performed in 2003 and started Brian on the road to becoming a performance artist. I didn’t start following Brian until 2009 when I started this blog. I knew about the Dynamic, but had never seen the original performance which was part of the New York International Fringe Festival. The members of his family have since moved in different directions. His parents are divorced. His mother is a breast cancer survivor and his sister has been married and now lives south of Orlando. Nearly a thousand miles separate the family’s daily lives.

When I got to the Jewish Community Center in Maitland, I had to have my drivers license scanned at the security desk in order to enter. Outside the Harriet and Hymen Lake Cultural Auditorium I saw Brian putting fliers on a table outside the auditorium entrance. He was a nervous ball of energy. I was pleased to see signs that announced “No Google Glass allowed inside the Theater!” No aspect of the performance was permitted to be filmed, but sketching was strongly encouraged during the pre-show announcement. I laughed out loud.

On stage the dining table was being set up and Brian’s mom, Marilyn Wattman-Feldman, was at the back of the auditorium warming up dishes in the kitchen.  Brian’s dad, Edward Feldman, was busy trying to get connected to the internet. He had me flip through a large portfolio full of his art work.  Adrienne McIntosh, Brian’s sister, was trying to get the internet password from JCC security. Brian helped me set up a crude barrier that would keep the audience from noticing me as I sketched from stage left. The resulting structure was rickety and I was afraid the whole time that it might collapse into the audience. Luckily it held up. An old radio was found backstage and placed on Edward’s computer table. Brian let me know that it was the same one from the last show he had performed there, a JCC production of Neil Simon’s “Brighton Beach Memoirs”15 years earlier.  Both he and Adrienne were child performers.

At 7:15pm the house opened and the audience entered. The family walked on stage together and sat down for dinner. Edward spent much of the time standing and serving food. A bottle of sparkling cider couldn’t be opened since no one had a bottle opener. Edward put the bottle on the edge of the stage and said, “I bet the bottle will magically open itself.” Sure enough, Carl from the audience got up and opened the bottle with his utility knife. For some reason Brian was wearing a tuxedo he had rented for Amanda and Matt Simantov‘s wedding. I knew this because he had e-mailed me and asked if I wanted to rent the same tux for the wedding. I stuck with my suit which I discovered had paint stains on the pant legs. I don’t think anyone at the wedding noticed.

Brian is a very private person. For one of his recent performances,he stayed off Facebook for an entire year. It looks like that performance lasted for four months. Then Brian explained that Facebook
only lets events last for four months. Since he didn’t log on to
the site for the entire year, he couldn’t keep changing the start and end
dates to cover the full 12 months. Yet another hangup with the site. I had no idea what life in D.C. has been like for him. The family chatted about films they had seen. Brian has seen tons of films and his mother has seen maybe 2 in the last year. He stood up midway through the meal feeling he needed to make an announcement to is family. His father asked, “Are you getting married?” “Wow, that makes sense”, I thought. Brian let them know that he had been fired from his job. He showed them the letter of termination. They read it in silence but Edward felt Brian should write a letter of apology and maybe he would be taken back. Brian had fallen asleep at a security job at 2am. “Well, they have to understand, maybe you were tired!” his father consoled. The audience laughed. Brian let them know that he wasn’t asking to move back. He is getting unemployment and actively looking for another job. Performance art would have to wait until he got a full-time job. Adrienne had an announcement as well. She got a promotion at Disney moving from one department to another. She was even getting a raise. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound!

I had a strange dream last night. Brian and I were seated on the ground floor of a parking garage that had been converted into a women’s prison. A woman in an orange jumpsuit had ankle cuffs with a noisy chain and was being escorted up a ramp by an armed guard. Brian was smiling broadly and giving me advice. “You should get a job,” he said. “I work at Full Sail,” I replied. “No, you need to get a full-time job. It has been too long.” It was an odd dream. I have no idea what it means.

After dinner the family stood around the computer looking at family pictures and shots of Adrienne’s dachshund. Before I knew it, they were taking a bow. The audience was maybe a quarter full with most of them being friends and local media. There were plenty of left overs. Edward served me some salad and beef brisket, which was delicious. I topped it off with some apple pie and got back to the sketch. Stage manager Sharli’ Ward was having an animated conversation about Israel with Marilyn. If you didn’t know about The Feldman Dynamic, you missed a personal, unplanned slice of life and some great food! It was theater as life.

Disney Security Kiosk

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Before leaving Orlando, performance artist, Brian Feldman wanted to produce a second performance of Thor sketches the Audience for the United Arts, Arts Fest in February . He had the idea of using the theater at Disney University as the venue. I drove down to Disney to meet him and Tommy Wingo. Tommy handled all the tech details the first time around with the projectors and screens. I changed into my nice pants since I figured I needed to fit the Disney look as we met the theater promotions folks.

When I got to the Disney Institute the security guard at the entrance asked me for my driver’s license. I searched my pants and wouldn’t you know, my wallet wasn’t there. I had left it in the old pair of pants. Fay, the security guard couldn’t let me onto the Disney property. I sat with her in her little security kiosk as I called Brian and the Disney folks to try and get in. I think one of the promotions people went out to the wrong kiosk to get me. Security has been this tight ever since 9/11 and I just might be a terrorist. I know I’m an anarchist.

The theater is absolutely gorgeous with plush theater seats
and an old school look, reminding me of the Ford Theater where Lincoln was
shot. We discussed lighting and the position of screens. The Disney folks were
a pleasure to talk to. The first time, I rented the theater space at the Shakespeare
Theater for about $300. In the parking lot near the Disney Theater, Tommy, Brian
and I joked about how expensive it would be to rent the Disney Theater for the
night. We placed bets and I believe I had the high bet at $5000. Much later, we
found out it would cost $30,000 to rent the space. That included renting
several Disney Buses to transport audience members from a distant lot. The
invoice did say that they world throw in a folding table for the evening at no
extra cost. Needless to say, we didn’t rent from Disney.

The Sketchbook Project

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The Sketchbook Project has been traveling the country hitting large cities everywhere. Now it is in Orlando for two more days. I went on Friday, the first day to see what the buzz was about. I submitted a sketchbook and it is part of this national tour. In all there are over 10,000 sketchbooks from artists from around the world. The mobile sketchbook library is being housed at Full Sail Live which is a brand new state of the art performance space on the Full Sail campus. When I arrived, Mark Baratelli and Brian Feldman were in the lobby. The first order of business was to get a library card, so I got in line to pick up my card.

Inside there are about 10 to 15 bookcases full of sketchbooks. My first impulse would be to thumb through multiple sketchbooks until I found one that caught my eye. Unfortunately you can’t walk among the stacks and choose the books yourself. The Project staff have to find the sketchbook for you. You can pick sketchbooks by the artist’s name or by geographic region or by the theme. I remember my theme was “Faces in a crowd.” I asked for two sketchbooks with that theme. One had over rendered pencil drawings of people’s faces from family photos. It had little appeal. The second book was covered in foil and had entire pages boldly painted with gouache. It was bold and interesting. Maisy and Ron Marrs showed up so I shadowed them for a bit so I could glance at Maisy’s sketchbook. Her work was fun and whimsical and there was a sketch of me in there which was an unexpected surprise.

I started sketching the long line of people waiting to check out sketchbooks. I spoke with Megan Everhart who was waiting to pick up her 2012 sketchbook. She had driven five hours down here from South Carolina to experience the Sketchbook Project first hand. Her work is abstract and she also does murals. Her iPhone had died so she couldn’t continue to shoot photos. I offered her my charger but I couldn’t find the wall plug piece. It was somewhere in my bag, but I couldn’t locate it among all the art supplies. She had a five hour drive back north so she headed out early. A former Disney colleague, Rusty Stoll was checking out sketchbooks, but after four books he was disappointed in the lack of draftsmanship. I saw Tracy Burke with her parents checking out the work. I kept bumping into people I knew, like Bess Auer of “Central Florida Top 5.”

All afternoon I checked out sketchbooks and I was enthralled by the wide variety of the work. At 6pm the founders of the Sketchbook Project, StevePeterman and Shane Zucker took to the stage. They were college buddies and the seed of this project started small. They at first only envisioned 100 sketchbooks would ever be submitted. Over time they had to adjust as the numbers escalated. There are 10,000 sketchbooks now being housed at Full Sail Live. It would be impossible to view every sketchbook even if you spent all three days checking out books as fast as you could view them. The sheer volume of art is staggering. Once again the power of the Internet is making art available to the masses. You have to experience the Sketchbook Project to believe it. It is open today (7/30) and Sunday (7/31) from Noon to 5pm. Don’t miss it! Listen to what others had to say…

“This event was incredible!! If you missed it today, check out Sketchbook Project this weekend while you can!!
– Tracy Burke

“The Sketchbook Project was one of the best shows I’ve ever been to for art! International artists and their sketchbooks and the excitement of being able to share it with everyone!”
– Maisy May Marrs

“Just got back from the 2011 Sketchbook project at Full Sail. It was awesome, so many books to look at. If you have a chance to go and check it this weekend Sat and Sun. 12-5pm. Check out Thomas Thorspecken, Peter Soutullo, Maisy Marrs and some other Florida Natives books while you are there. This is taking place here in Orlando, is free and its at Full Sail Live behind the Mickey D’s on 436 and University.”
– Chris Tobar

Happy Memories

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Jack Fields is working on a short film titled “Happy Memories” which combines puppetry and live action. He told me that Brian Feldman would be hatching from an egg on the day I went to sketch. John Regan III was behind the camera. Digital SLR cameras shoot quality video these days. Brian was perched on a crate covered with foam and a blue blanket. The wall behind him was painted as a blue screen so he could be composited onto another background in post production. He was dressed in long johns that had googly eyes pasted all over the surface. Whenever he moved the eyes wobbled. Jack was trying to get an eyeball hanging from an ocular nerve to look like it had popped out of Brian’s eye socket. The adhesive didn’t want to stick so the eye kept dropping off.

With costuming and makeup done it was time to shoot. Brian tucked his knees up to his chest in a fetal position and then Jack started wrapping him in aluminum foil. Jack stood back and shouted “Action!” Brian slowly extricated himself from the aluminum foil egg. Jack shouted “Cut!” He felt Brian had moved too slow, so he explained the pacing he needed. Brian was wrapped in aluminum foil for another take. This time the timing was perfect. They shot one more scene where Brian looked at a puppet held by Jack in shock and horror.

I don’t know the story behind “Happy Memories” but I can’t wait to see the final product. Jack’s puppets are an intricate banquet for the eyes.

txt at Urban ReThink

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Conceptual artist Brian Feldman has one more performance of txt tonight, July 25th at 7pm at Urban ReThink (625 East Central Blvd.). I sat in on the first of three performances to sketch. I have seen txt performed several times before and was entertained every time. For the first time, I signed into the proper Twitter account and was prepared to send Brian a txt during the performance to be read aloud. Brian walked out and sat at the spindly desk waiting for his cell phone to vibrate. He read, “Let’s get started with a couple of ground rules.” Terry was busy munching on a bag of potato chips. I wrote my first txt, he read, “Rule number 1. No eating!” He shouted it out, pointing at Terry. I placed my phone on the floor and forgot about it as I lost myself in the sketch.

“Thor is wearing a shirt he bought in North Carolina.” Terry must have written that, I thought. I looked at my shirt. Funny, I don’t remember buying it in North Carolina. Tod Caviness walked in late. “This guy is late,” Brian announced. I raised my hopes thinking Tod would offer some literary subtlety to the strange meaningless flow of ideas. As always, the unfiltered thoughts turned to sex. “Raise your hand if you want to have a 3 or 4 way later.” “Oh, there are swingers in the room?!” “Rule number 16, if no one laughs I’m going to stand on Thor’s shoulders and fart in your face.” Who on earth wrote that? I thought. Do I know that person. Do I want to know that person? “Rule number 237. No sex in the champagne room with Thor.” What?! I blushed. Alright, who wrote that? More important was it a man or woman? I looked around for a guilty face. Where on earth is the champagne room? I need to go sketch it now.”Sex in the champagne room at Hue. See you at 8.” Well that answers that question anyway, Hue is a night club. “I would totally rock Thor’s hammer.” “OK, who mentioned sex with Thor? It wasn’t his wife and if she finds you she will scratch your eyes out.” “Why is everyone talking about Thor, lets chat about Green Lantern! He is great too!” Thank Odin, the conversation wasn’t about me at all. I’m so vain.

Across from me Peter Murphy was sitting next to Colleen Burns. She wore a blue dress. “Hey girl in the blue dress, don’t wear a bra next time.” I looked up at Colleen her mouth was open, aghast. “Awkward.” Brian announced. “Later on I’m going to get down with that lady in the… (my eyes are bad)… The Blue dress!” “My boyfriend is obsessed with the girl in the blue dress.” “The girl in the blue dress is taken.” Well that settles that, I thought. “Imagine me planking on the lady in the blue dress later. Ha!” Colleen seemed to take all the attention with humor. “I am NEVER wearing a blue dress ever again!”

With no filters, no social niceties, people don’t have a need for polite meaningful conversation. The Internet has unleashed an age of unrestricted self-expression and the results are often brash and ugly. Tapping out every thought that pops into our heads isn’t art. Having contributed to this performance by tapping out my one tweet, I felt a little dirty. I was complicit in the crime of random expression. This show shocked and amazed me every time I saw it. It is a guilty pleasure. Several evenings later I saw Colleen at another event. She was wearing a blue dress.

Orlando Weekly “Best of Orlando” Party

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Each year the Orlando Weekly publishes a “Best of Orlando” edition. There is a category for Best Blog, but this year I threw my AADW votes to The Daily City. Even with my support, The Daily City only got 2nd place. Some Republican political blog won 1st place. Anyway, I was asked to submit an illustration to this edition of the paper and part of the compensation was two comp tickets to the big bash at The Beacham Theater. The Beacham is newly renovated, and I was curious to get a glimpse inside. When I arrived, Brian Feldman was getting ready for his performance piece, “The Boxer.” He was going to hand out copies of the Orlando Weekly from inside on of their red newspaper boxes. Since I was early, Brian walked me inside and up to the balcony where I had a view of all the action below. He said, “This is the first time I’ve been in this theater since I was 11 years old.” He went back outside to continue setting up, and I started sketching on my digital tablet.

The bands were doing soundchecks. One group had urban tap dancers and plastic paint cans as drums. As I sketched, people started to trickle in. Busty barmaids in slick black dresses vogued as they shot photos of each other. Soon the place was packed. The bar became a hive of activity. Blackjack tables started getting busy. Entry to the event entitled each person to 1,000 units of Casino Chips, which could be turned in at the end of the evening for prizes.

With my balcony sketch finished, I went outside to sketch Brian. Terry was at the bar trying to shoot photos of Brian Feldman and Mark Baratelli’s awards as they popped up on a large video screen. Outside, Brian was in the tiny red box right at the entrance. That meant I had to sit on the sidewalk to get a view of him. I wedged myself against the red velvet rope and got to work. There was maybe two feet of space behind me to the curb and I had to shove forward several times to let caterers by with huge vats of food. I think Brian’s presence threw people for a loop and some searched around for another way in. One woman cooed to Brian, “Oh, you’re so cute.” When she was gone he pointed to the back of his throat and gagged. He had trouble keeping his head up and he napped between groups of people entering the club. People kept offering him food and drink. He always refused. I , on the other hand, was actually quite hungry and parched.

The sketch was going good, the ink work finished, when I heard a voice behind me. It was a policeman on a bike. “Oh no, not again .” I thought. He asked me to, ” Move along.” Since I wasn’t finished with the sketch, I asked, “Can I sit out in the street to avoid blocking pedestrian traffic?” “No,” he said, “Then I’d be concerned you might get injured.” I just sat for a moment, thinking. He said, “Is he on a time out?” It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Brian in the box. I explained that it was performance art and for a second I thought he was going to ask Brian to move along as well. He didn’t. He asked me to move again, then biked off. He didn’t say I couldn’t stand where I was, so I stood and started quickly throwing down watercolor washes. I worked fast since I figured the bike cop might just go around the block and check back in on my anarchist sketch in progress.

David Plotkin, the new art director at the Orlando Weekly, introduced himself to me just as I was finishing up the sketch. I flipped through my sketchbook to show David and his lady friend my work. I was still rattled thinking the police might return. My wife Terry had just left and I was feeling guilty for not spending more time with her inside the party. I went back inside and made myself several soft tacos from the decimated food table. The stage was empty. I wolfed down the tacos and typed a text message on my cell to Terry, “Heading home.” I left, still feeling persecuted by the law. Besides, I wasn’t a winner.

The Verdict

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It was the start of a highly contested battle. In the morning I went for a run. I ran to close to a mail box and its metallic handle caught my T-shirt sleeve, ripping it. After writing several blog posts I decided to go downtown and surprise Terry by stopping by her office. Walking downtown I noticed the constant sound of helicopters. They were hovering by the courthouse and I realized that the Casey Anthony trial must have come to a close. I walked towards the courthouse. I knew that Brian Feldman had gotten into the courtroom so I texted him to find out what was going on inside. I didn’t know this at the time, but the verdict had been read several hours earlier. When I didn’t hear back from Brian, I turned off my cell phone.

A hot dog vendor next to the courthouse was arguing with a costomer at his stand. He said, “I can’t believe they found her not guilty of child neglect!” That was the moment when I knew the verdict. I saw a crowd of people outside the Bank of America building and I wondered what was up. News anchor Geraldo Rivera shuffled out of the crowd onto the street. A man rushed up to him and asked for a photo.

Across the street from the courthouse there was an empty lot full of news vans. I sat in the shadow of a fence and started sketching the channel 13 news crew. A female newscaster practiced for her report. Crowds of people rushed around shooting photos and home movies with their iPhones. A man walked by holding a sign that said “Murderer!” He raised it over his head pointing it towards the circus of news vans in the empty lot. The woman with him shouted out with a drawl, “Come out of there Geraldo!” She must have been angry about the verdict and blamed the messenger. Two bystanders shouted out “Hey Casey’s parents just got in that Black SUV!” The SUV drove off and they waved. The windows were tinted so I couldn’t see inside. An ant bit my hand and I flicked it off.

Terry and Amanda were meeting for Margaritas at Paxia. I decided to join them. As I walked away the sounds of the helicopters slowly dimmed. Here one day, gone one night.

The Most Expensive Gas in America

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I was running late getting to Brian Feldman’s “The Most Expensive Gas in America.” When I piled my art supplies into my truck I realized I was low on gas. Driving out of my subdivision, my bright yellow gas light flickered on. It is shaped like a gas pump to further remind me that I needed to fill the tank. To save time I pulled into a 7-Eleven where the gas was a bit more expensive than my usual gas station. The regular gas cost me $3.39/gal. The $50 plus price tag hurts each week, but I need to get places to sketch them.

Sun Gas, located just north of Orlando International Airport (5600 Butler National Dr., off of S. Semoran Blvd.) charges unsuspecting tourists up to $5.99 a gallon for gas. The gas station is now being fined $250 a day by the City of Orlando for not posting their prices. The gas station has a huge sign that announces airport valet parking, an Arby’s and 24 hour convenience store. There is plenty of room on the huge two story high sign to list the gas prices. A sign was placed in the parking lot behind the store (where no one will see it) but again no prices were listed. On the day of Brian’s performance, Sun Gas was in court challenging the city ordinance to display their prices.

Brian Feldman decided to take the issue to the streets by standing at the intersection and announcing the prices to passing motorists.

Current prices (as of June 30th 2011)
Regular (87) $5.799/gal.
Plus (89) $5.899/gal.
Super Premium (93) $5.999/gal.

Brian arrived a bit late saying, “I had to go and get more nines for the sign.” He had his portable theater marquee around his neck. That thing is made of metal and it is heavy. His sign had all three prices listed and he waved to passing cars. I was shocked when cars pulled into the station. Brian’s small sign probably isn’t easy to read from a passing car. A news photographer arrived and started shooting photos of Brian. The photographer spoke to me briefly stating, “You picked a strange day to be sketching. Look behind you. Those steel blue clouds will be here in 20 minutes.” I started to sketch faster. Shortly thereafter, a car pulled up to the corner and the driver started screaming at the photographer. “Are you reporting the news or creating the news!?” He was livid, thinking the photographer was staging the public service of showing consumers the gas prices. The photographer tried to explain that it was a conceptual art performance but that made the man’s face get redder. His wheels screeched as he sped off onto Semoran when the light changed.

Later, a leggy blond woman approached Brian from the gas station. After she left he shouted out to me, “Incident!” My drawing was just about done so I walked over to see what was up. She had made indications to Brian that she knew where he was parked. The implication being that she would arrange to tow his car. Brian handed me his car keys and asked me to move his father’s Ford Focus to the restaurant across the street where I had parked. I half expected to find his car gone, but I found it and drove over to my truck. I then drove over to where Brian stood and returned his keys. He had many hours to go, as he planned to announce the prices for 5.999 hours which is an hour for each dollar charged for the gas. As I drove north the rain pounded my truck. Is price gouging the American way?