June 12, 2026 marked 10 years since the brutal murder of 49 people who were dancing and celebrating life at the Pulse Nightclub. The week after that massacre, I put out a Facebook invite asking artists to meet at the Falcon Bar and Gallery in Thornton Park to do 49 portraits in one night. Sixteen artists answered the call. 49 portraits were completed that night. I did four portraits so on average that is about how many each artist could have completed. Some artists lovingly completed one portrait while others did more.
The portraits were used for a play about Pulse created by David Lee called O-Town: Voices from Orlando. The play was a collection of monologues taken from firsthand accounts of survivors, first responders and volunteers. The 49 portraits hung as a backdrop for each performance. When the play’s run was complete, I was given all the portraits which I placed in my archives in the studio. They stayed there for 10 years.
With the 10-year anniversary approaching I decided that the portraits should hang around Lake Eola for the day. The shooting at Pulse began about 2am on June 12, 2016, so I decided that the portraits should go up around Lake Eola starting at 2:02am. Hannah Miller volunteered to help me in mounting the portraits to trees. I am so happy she came to help because it made the task so much more pleasurable. I feared the portraits might be torn down or vandalized considering signs of hope and acceptance are often covered over or violently opposed in today’s America. We proceeded anyway.
A lake staffer walking by let us know that it would be his task to take all the portraits down first thing in the morning. News 13 had set up a little outdoor studio on the south side of the lake. He asked if the portraits were related to what the news station was doing and we didn’t say they were not related we just said they were a memorial. As we got ready to hang the last portrait of Cory James Connell a reporter came over to ask us a few questions. The reporter, who was off camera, was choked up, which I certainly didn’t expect.
In the evening of the 10-year anniversary, I went to the United Methodist Church in downtown Orlando for a Pulse Remembrance Ceremony. I had my large clear portfolio case which I planned to use to collect the 49 portraits afterwards. I had a pair of scissors to cut mounting strings, which I hoped would not be seen as a weapon. There were police officers all around the church. Everyone was given a candle, but I refused since I knew I would be sketching. The program featured a reading of the 49 names, the church bell being rung 49 times, a performance by the Orlando Gay Chorus a poem read by poet laureate Camera Gaither and words for several family of the victims. When Miranda Bebe, the sister of Jason Benjamin Josaphat asked for action to remove high powered assault rifles from the streets there was overwhelming acceptance, but Orlando is a bubble in a deep red state that worships the blood letting in the name of gun rights. Prayers might be offered, but never solutions.
The Orlando Gay Chorus sang, “We all Have a Pulse” which absolutely floored me. I stopped sketching to let the music wash over me. It was a stellar performance and the highlight of my day. After the ceremony, which was heartwarming and overwhelming, I walked back to Lake Eola. 
When I got to the lake, a huge rainbow arched from shore to shore. A fine rain was soaking the portraits and I decided they had to be collected.
Collecting the portraits was easier than putting them up. Some had been dismounted by the wind and people had re-tied them back on the trees. One portrait was missing and I chose to think someone collected it to give the family. Honestly if they had all been collected and given to family, I would be happy.
I let all the artists know via a Facebook invite that their work was hanging at Lake Eola for the one day. I considered waiting until midnight, but I doubt I could have stayed awake that late since I had been awake all of the previous night hanging the portraits. As I was taking them down, a police man approached and asked my name. He must have thought I was stealing the portraits. Police had been informed that they must make sure the portraits remained hanging. I thought the portraits would immediately be taken down and considered vandalism, but Orlando embraced them.
Like the Queen of the Night blooms, these portraits appeared for a brief moment and then were gone.
