Derrek Hewitt – Analog Artist Digital World

After a solid day of viewing art at Art Basel, our group decided to meet up at Sound Scape Park, just a block from the Convention Center. Mark Baratelli and I arrived first. Videos were going to be projected on the side of the New World Center which is a performance space for the New World Symphony. The palm trees in the park were all fitted with speakers for a surround sound experience. I started sketching near the projection booth at the back of the lawn. Orange and purple been bags were scattered all over the lawn for people to lounge in. Mark and I gathered three been bags for our group. Mark was thirsty so he walked to Washington Avenue in search of sodas. I was left to guard the bean bags as I sketched.

Every few minutes people would interrupt me asking how much it cost to rent the bean bags. I guess, since I was seated next to a group of bean bags they assumed I was in charge. I would explain that seating was free. They would then reach for the bags next to me and I had to explain I was saving them. One guy grabbed one and said, “You aren’t going to miss just one.” It wasn’t worth getting in a fist fight over a damn bag. They would have to make due. I decided it was easier to say “The bean bag chairs are $50 to rent” any time someone approached. Finally Terry and our friends arrived. They all squeezed together on the remaining bean bags, joking and snuggling.

The video I sketched was called, “I’m not much, but I’m all I think about”, by Marilyn Minter. Dimensional sculpted “ME” kept falling into a viscous fluid which splashed and then enveloped the letters in slow motion. I would have to guess that it was a film about narcissism. The next film was called, “God bless America” by Martha Rosier and it featured a woman saluting who struggle to pull the saluting hand away from her face.

After the screening, Derrek Hewitt rushed off to get the car in a parking garage. Terry, Mark and I lost his group on the way. Mark and I quickly walked through an abandoned store front that was full of stitched art. Female nudes were outlined with stitching on large six or seven foot canvas sheets. Two girls sat on the floor stitching. “Great sketch opportunity”, I thought but we had to find the group. After phone calls and texts, Mark and I piled into the car and we were all off to find a restaurant.

Over the Memorial day weekend Terry and I met Elaine Pasekoff and Derrek Hewitt at Coco Beach. We stuffed quarters in the parking meters and hiked over the small boardwalk to the beach. We were surprised that the strip of beach we were on wasn’t crowded. A huge sea turtle lay on the dry sand its shell broken. The stench of death overpowered us and we moved up the beach. The umbrella and chairs that Derrek had carried were set up. I was the first to walk to the water’s edge. There I was shocked to find billions of jelly fish being washed up in the surf. These were mauve stingers which are usually native to the Mediterranean. The wet sand was littered with jellies each one being the size of a ping pong ball. There was no way I was going in the water. When I looked up and down the beach I realized that there was no one in the water. The pink blobs had taken back the ocean on one of the busiest weekends of the summer season.

Lifeguards treated over 1,800 people for stings. Though not as potent as the sting from a blue Portuguese man-of-war, the stings were painful. Local convenience stores ran out of Benadryl and vinegar. We joked that we might have to pee on each other if we got stung. A few people were sent to local hospitals after suffering from allergic reactions. It wasn’t safe in the water. The four of us huddled under the beach umbrella. I sketched the view to the north.

The attack of the jellies was unprecedented. This species of jellyfish had never been seen on these beaches. Jellies are flourishing in the warmer ocean waters, being washed up on beaches more often. After invading the beach for the weekend, the smack of jellyfish disappeared as mysteriously as it appeared.