A Funeral for the Arts in Winter Park.

Posted on by Thor

On December 14, 2015, the City of Winter Park passed an Ordinance that essentially states that it is illegal to do anything creative on Park Avenue, New England Avenue and Hannibal Square. Merchants felt that the presence of artists was a conflict with their commercial interests. Apparently one band set up and used a car battery to power their amplifiers. Rather than write an ordinance to ban amplified music the town simply copied an ordinance from Saint Augustine that bans all art. Of course Winter Park sells itself as a town that has a great museum and a few remaining galleries. They like some art, but they don’t want to see it created in their view.

Paul Felker, affectionately known as the Park Avenue Poet used to sit on a public bench on the commercial side of Park Avenue. He uses a 1938 Remington Deluxe Noiseless typewriter to write poems given any prompt. Since the ordinance was written, police now hassle the poet and tell him that he must go to the “First Amendment Zone” which is Central Park. Of course there is far less traffic in Central Park, so Paul writes fewer poems. Donations Paul relieved for his poems were being used to help put him through college. What some find quaint and endearing, the city finds criminal.

Paul organized a Funeral for the Arts in Central Park on January 29, 2016. Angel Jones from Melborne helped make artists around the state aware of the funeral. The funeral was to take place from 10am to 5pm. I arrived at 10am to find the park empty except for a news crew from Chanel 13. I chatted with news anchor Jerry Hume for a bit, and then we walked the length of the Park to look for black clad mourners. When we didn’t find any, I decided to sketch the peacock fountain, in the rose garden. Winter Park seems to worship this colorful bird. A more appropriate bird now would be a black Raven. As I was finishing up my sketch Jerry let me know the mourners had gathered a block away.

I found a Ian Twitch Reents all in black with his face painted white along with a red nose and aviator goggles. He was standing in his mile high rock and roll boots beside a five foot long black coffin lid. A woman noticed him and asked me to shoot a photo of them together. She might never realize she was posing next to a coffin. Paul had run to Old Navy to get a pair of black pants. He didn’t want to buy the pants in over priced Winter Park. When he got back he painted R.I.P. on the lid. Since there were only two protesters, I decided to meet a former co-worker, from my first job at Zip Mail in Tenafly New Jersey from over 30 years ago. She was seeing a free film at the Morse Museum called “Beauty in Art“.  It seemed a fitting subject since art was now banned on the streets of Winter Park. After the film and lunch, we returned to the protest.

Paul had called the police to let them know that he would be setting up in the forbidden zone to write some poems. TV news crews filmed the walk across the street, but police kept their distance, knowing that issuing a citation on TV wouldn’t look good. The penalty for creating in the Forbidden Zones is 60 days in jail and a $500 fine. After sometime Paul passed back over to the park side of the street. To date no citations have been issued. About six artists had joined the protest. I sketched Paul hard at work at his typewriter for the first time. Angel was dressed in a gorgeous black Victoria dress with a lace veil. Curtis Meyer was improvising  beat box poetry on the fly. I had heard that poets planned to walk up and down Park Avenue reciting poetry into their cell phones. Ray Brazen performed with a guitar that had no strings, allowing him to perform “The Sound of Silence“.

A man walked up to Paul and shouted, “What’s in it for me?” He kept repeating this question like an angry toddler. Paul calmly explained his poetry. Perhaps the man had been drinking to heavily at a Park Avenue cafe, then again, perhaps he was just like the city commissioners and merchants who are always looked for the bottom line in their lust for profit in their small town lives. “What is in it for me?” As if a quest for beauty and understanding is not something that can be comprehended. Was art put on this earth just to annoy this white bread Winter Park Scrooge? How many others are out there whose grey dark matter can’t comprehend color, joy and passion. I feel sorry for his loss.

DiVerse Word

Posted on by Thor

On September 10th I went to Dandelion Communitea Cafe for DiVerse Word hosted by Shawn Welcome. DiVerse Word is a weekly spoken word and poetry event that has been going strong for seven years. Three random individuals in the audience are picked to be judges. They score between one and ten with decimal points for subtlety. The competition begins at 8pm and goes till 10pm.

Sasha recited a poem about the excitement of the touch of a hand. Robbie Ramirez spoke of Star Wars. Tyler Conradi gave an astonishing performance of his poem “I Am” that had a dark Max Ginsberg universal reach. Tyler got my vote for the best poem of the evening. A police helicopter hoovered over the neighborhood with it’s spotlight blazing. Periodically the search light would flash over the crowd gathered in front of Dandelion and people would wave to the night sky. Shawn Welcome joked that we should all scatter the next time the spot light illuminated the crowd. Someone stated that when a chopper was in the air, there would also be a K9 dog unit searching on the ground. He wondered out loud what he would do if a criminal ran down the street in front of Dandelion. It would be best to let the police do their jobs.

Curtis Meyer closed out the night with his usual flair. Everyone was asked to share something they haa learned. Tim spoke of the long journey he and his wife took in their 40 years of marriage. They went from knowing EVERYTHING at age 21 to knowing NOTHING at age 61. Shawn closed out the evening with his salutation, “Peace, Love and Poetry”. As I walked to my car I saw two young poets kissing in the shadows of the building beside Dandelion. They were faintly illuminated in the setting moonlight. One shouted out “Good night Thor!” I smiled, and shouted back, “Good Night!”

Mark your calendar! DiVerse Word is every Tuesday at Dandelion Community Cafe (618 North Thornton Ave. Orlando FL) starting at 8pm. Share your thoughts or just listen and learn.

SHUT YOUR FACE!

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Every Sunday at 6pm the SHUT YOUR FACE! Poetry Slam by Curtis Meyer is held at
La Casa De La Paellas (10414 E Colonial Dr Orlando FL). This is the only current ongoing slam in Orlando officially certified by Poetry Slam Incorporated. A winning team can go to Nationals or to the Individual World Poetry Slam and Women of the World Poetry Slam. On the line for the evening was $50 to the winner.

I ordered some food when I arrived and started sketching the stage before the poets started. Tr3 Harris was in the room. He said that going to poetry readings first introduced him to Orlando’s art scene. Now he is curating shows and is an integral player in Orlando’s visual arts scene. Chaz Yorick was there with his daughter. Chaz read a hilarious poem titled, “I wanna make love like zombies” about sloppy, messy, zombie love that I’m positive would make a great animated short if read by Vincent Price.

I was wrangled into being one of the judges by the MC, Natalia “MyVerse” Pitti. She started the evening off with one of her own poems as a “sacrifice”, the first bloodletting, to get the judges started. The point system was between one and ten. One being a poem that should have never been written and ten being a poem who’s originality hit hard and transcended all other poems. My judging seemed fair since I was right in line with the other judges. As a matter of fact my scores were often identical to Michelle Long‘s scores, the Full Sail instructor seated across from me, right down to the tenth of a point. It was actually pretty spooky. I was a bit concerned that contestants might view my sketching as a sign that I wasn’t fully engaged. Of course the opposite is true.

When I sketch a poetry event, I like to try and sketch the poet that I’m convinced will win. I decided to sketch Sasha Nichols Rivera. Sasha swayed like a reed in the breeze as she recited her poems. Her hands gestured to the flowing beat, caressing the air around her. Her delivery was ambisnapping dexterous in that the crowd snapped their fingers in approval and everyone anticipated her next word with every breath and pause. The inspired poems, verging or music, lifted people up. Speaking with her after the competition, she was direct and incredibly curious. She also goes out of her way to encourage other poets. Her mom Yaa Rivera is a painter who has shown her work at artist critique events I often attend. This town continues to shrink as I sketch. Sasha won the $50 prize.

If you’ve never been to a slam before, it’s definitely worth checking out.
Contact Curtis for more info, curtisxmeyer@hotmail.com. Also, Mark Your Calendars, there is Free Flamenco Fridays at La Casa which I’m sure will tempt me back to sketch again.

Speakeasy: The Crush Edition

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Tod Caviness hosts the Speakeasy every second Tuesday of the month at Will’s Pub (1042 N. Mills Avenue, Orlando, Florida). The theme for February was: The Secret Crush.Tod is engaged to be married to Yow dancer, Christin Marie. When I arrived, Tod and Christin were at the bar. Christin told me a bit about Yow Dances upcoming Fringe show. Apparently this year there will be magic as well as dance. I’m curious to see what that involves.

I decided to sketch Michael Pierre as he read on the stage. He look good in a black jacket and black shirt, which separated him from the rest of the authors in jeans and T shirts. His girlfriend, Amanda Millar got on stage right after him. She reminded me before the show that I had sketched her as she was being converted into a sexy zombie nurse. She read about a crush she had on a collage professor. She outlined the intricate planning that went into her always being at the same place at the same time as the professor. All her plans paid off when the professor gave her his card.

The funniest reading came from “Reverend” Trevor Frasier warned Todd and Christin about the perils of getting married. “Let me outline the good points should you decide to have children…” He stood silent for the longest time until everyone in the room was laughing. He obviously couldn’t think of any good points. He warned that they never again could look at someone of the opposite sex and think, “Damn they look hot!” He also warned that marriage would be the end to any hot sex they might be having now. He had a slide show to go along with his presentation but unfortunately I couldn’t see the screen.

Curtis Meyer read a lust filled poem about a sexy pop star. He just wanted her to write songs about him. It seemed only fair since he had written a sweltering poem about her. I slipped out after my sketch was done. This evening was certainly a fine warm up for Valentines day. I had to take a shower when I got home to get the smell of second hand cigarette smoke off of my skin. The sketch itself is like a scratch and sniff reminder of the evening.

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.

2nd Annual June Bug Poetry Festival Open Mic

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On the first Monday of every month there is a poetry open mic at Tatami Tea and Sake Lounge, (223 West Fairbanks Ave.Winter Park). The event was hosted by Russ Golata. I arrived a bit late and Russ, dressed in a red Avengers T-Shirt, gave me a warm meaty handshake and pointed out the sign in sheet for me. I found a seat at one of the remaining high bar stools and started lightly penciling in a sketch of the first poet. He read a rather long piece about the gears on a bicycle. I didn’t commit to sketching him since I figured he would be done any minute. He finished and there was warm applause. Then he sat in the seat directly in front of me blocking my view. I’m such a dope, I didn’t consider that possibility. I erased all my pencil marks and moved to the Susi bar right next to the stage.

The next reader was Amy Aviles. Apparently Russ had called her while she was making dinner and he insisted she come down to read. I was captivated by the intricate tattoos on her arm. I cursed my short sightedness because I couldn’t make out the word that was inscribed in delicate swirling detail above a male portrait. She read her poems off her iPhone and the relaxed beat and cadence of her poem had the flow of spoken word. Another poet related that there had been a death in her family. She sat on stage and read a poem about living with pride in spite of illness. Her second poem about knowing a man, related the intricacies of a relationship well lived in spite of life’s demands and limitations. It was bitter sweet. A young poet named Logan Anderson read poems filled with youthful angst. His second poem had a musical backup from his iPhone. Curtis Meyer performed with eloquent speed and fervor, his spoken words sparking at lightning speed. I liked his analogy that poets were like super heroes, their observations being their power.

As I left, Russ let me know that I was welcome back anytime. Curtis announced a new poetry event later that evening down on Fairbanks and another author announced she was having a book signing on June 16th from 1PM to 3PM at Stardust Video & Coffee. The room was filled with new faces. With so much going on, it is hard to keep up doing just one sketch a day. Walking back to my car, the rhyme and flow of poets words still rang through my mind. An event like this demands and inspires creative thought. I seem to only have time for the subtle layering of facts. Who could sit at home passively watching TV when there is energy like this around town? Seize the day.