Art and Poetry at the Polasek

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The Albin Polasek Museum and the Jack Kerouac Project,  joined forces to present this night of live art. Local poets and winners of the Winter Park Paint Out’s live poetry contest on Allpoetry.com read their work while I did this sketch which was projected live on a screen as I created it. It was the golden hour as the sun set illuminated the Polasek gardens a gorgeous golden tone. In the distance a painter was capturing Lake Osceola on canvas. I will be doing a similar sketch again this year at the Winter Park Paint Out which runs from April 22 to April 28, 2019.

I worked quickly to try to capture the fading light as the Kerouac House resident author Laura Lee Bahr read her work. She is the author of two novels, Haunt and Long-Form Religious Porn. Haunt was translated into Spanish under the title Fantasma. Laura has been a screenwriter for various award-winning films, including Jesus Freak and the little death. Her debut feature as writer/director, Boned,
won “Best Micro-Budget Feature” at the Toronto Independent Film
Festival and is currently distributed through Gravitas Ventures. Her latest book, Angel Meat, a
collection of her short stories, is available through Fungasm Press. To
promote it, she created the “Bahr Crawl,” a string of readings across
the U.S. and overseas where local authors join her in a celebration of
the spoken word. She lives with her sweetheart and two lovely felines in Los Angeles,
CA, where she teaches at a school for twice-exceptional students.

The Kerouac House is in cozy College Park. Jack Kerouac lived in the area for a short time in
1957–58 when his classic work On The Road was published to much acclaim. It was also the place he typed the original manuscript of his sequel, Dharma Bums. Four authors each year take up residence to focus on their writing without having to worry about paying rent.

Ciara Shuttleworth’s Farewell Reading

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On May 23rd, Ciara Shuttleworth gave a farewell reading at the Kerouac House 1418 Clouser Ave, Orlando, Florida. Ciara had been a writer in residence, and after her stay in Orlando she went on an extended road trip back out west to her hometown in Washington State. She traveled with a cardboard cut out photo of Jack Kerouac and she took plenty of pictures of him “On the Road.” She was one of the more social and inclusive writers to take up residency at the historic home. She invited several of her writing friends to also read on her final evening in Orlando.

Ciara read a poem about people who are in love with the idea of be in in love. They crave the rush they get when they first become enamored with someone new. In this social media age, I suspect this phenomenon is more common.

As with most readings, there was plenty of wine, and I’m sure that writers gathered on the front porch to discuss literature late into the evening. At an earlier reading I stayed late, and Ciara had suggested that there be an impromptu Karaoke session. I think that I held my own as we followed the lyrics on a cell phone. The music was new to me but I liked it. On the evening of the farewell reading however, I didn’t linger. There had been drama enough during the reading for one evening. The living room was packed full of people. In the back of the room, several people were startled when a large cabinet case rocked with no one touching it. Some felt it might be the ghost of Jack Kerouac making sure no one was complacent.

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to
live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same
time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn,
burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders
across the stars.”
– Jack Kerouac “On the Road“

The Inaugeral Kerouac Project Open Mic Channeled the Beat Generation.

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On February 27th there was a Kerouac Project Open Mic at the Gallery at Avalon Island (39 South Magnolia Ave, Orlando, Florida). This was the inaugural Kerouac Project Open Mic, with featured poets Frank Messina and Caitlin Doyle, and guest jazz pianist Per Danielsson.

Naomi Butterfield was the host for the evening.  She had on a bright yellow scarf as she read from Jack Kerouac’s Dharma Bums.  “Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that’s the way to live.”

Writers were invited to take that line and run with it! Then bring your best was shared share with the Kerouacians. Others, like me just came to listen to some fine auditory vibes. The open mic sign-up sheet was out by 7:30, and each author had five minutes at the mic.

The pianist improvised as a poet read which gave the reading an added cinematic feel.  If only we had a soundtrack for the everyday moments of our lives. Listening to pop music while driving doesn’t count as an inspired sound track. The Kerouac Project crowd are creative people who aren’t afraid to live out loud.

Ciara Shuttleworth has settled in as the new resident author at the Kerouac House.

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The Jack Kerouac Project sponsors resident authors every few months at the Kerouac House in College Park. Jack Kerouac was living in the back rooms of this house with his mother  when he got the news that his novel, “On the Road” was being published. He also wrote “The Dharma Bums” while living here. Ciara Shuttleworth is now the resident author. I first met her at a potluck dinner held in her honor. I have to confess that I knew nothing about her writing before going to the potluck. She read a poem before we all dug into the fried chicken and healthy salads arranged in the dining room. The poem was the first she had written after moving into the home. It left a strong impression, the lonely sound of a train’s horn and the beauty found in wreckage, and then the wine and conversations flowed.

Ciara Shuttleworth was born in San Francisco and grew up in Nebraska, Nevada, and Washington state. Talking to her on the front porch, I learned that she had been struck by a car while training for a marathon. She showed me the scar on her ankle. She was told she couldn’t run again, but she didn’t accept that, and she began to run despite the pain. She fought her way back to an active lifestyle and she gets up each morning at 6am so she can run before the Florida heat sets in. She said her thoughts flow when she runs.

Ciara was a visual artist before she realized she had to write poetry full time. She showed me the stark black and white portraits she used to do by letting me flip through the images on her phone. Her father is a well known poet but she has struck out early in her career to make a name for herself. One poem, “Sestina” was written in an inspired moment in college in reply to a professor introducing the class to the poetic form. The poem uses so few words to express loss and sadness. Several composers have taken this lean, succinct poem and set it to music. She sent it to the New Yorker on a whim and  her submission was accepted.

I arrived after fighting traffic that caused me to miss a turn and causing me to make an illegal U-turn to avoid a blinking train crossing. She welcomed me on the front porch and then set to work in the back room of the Kerouac House. The ceiling in this room slants down at a sharp angle and it almost touched my head causing me to hunker down a bit. She was refining a poem she was working on. She described her process briefly. She tends to write her poems in a Moleskin notebook when the idea is fresh and raw. These moments are very private and emotional. She then goes back through the notebook and begins to mine for ideas and thoughts that go into the final poem. The original hand written poems are like the sketch and when she types it into the Macbook Pro laptop computer, that is when things get serious. The screen saver showed a view of a California beach. The same image was tacked to the writing studio wall. She put it there because there was already a tack in the wall. It would be a shame to waste it.

She paused for a long delicious moment gazing out the back window at the bright green foliage. In the poem she was working on, a cormorant flashed its black wings against the intense sun which is too bright to look at directly. Her poem was full of vibrant imagery that could leave you wanting to laugh with delight and cry at the same time. Clearly her years as a painter had helped her as she related sights and emotions with brevity. There is a weightless quality to he words, like flight is the natural order of the world. While smoking outside a bar in NYC’s Hell’s Kitchen with a friend, she saw an intoxicated boy making a futile pass at a girl. That moment became art. One poem she was working on, she ripped up into tiny pieces and threw it away in the other room. “It was getting too preachy” she explained. Once that happens it is best to let go and start over. This wasn’t a loss but rather a victory since she got it out of her system. “Yes, good poems are hard to write. Someone close to me said he has
written more mediocre poems than anyone else ever, which ultimately
doesn’t matter since he’s also written some good ones.” she later told me. What is important is the habit and joy in creating.

Ciara took a break when her poem was done and I had placed my last wash on the sketch. Since she was also a visual artist, I was a bit reluctant to show the sketch which is by definition never quite finished. She seemed to appreciate it and she shared it with her dad. While talking on the back stoop, she asked me, “Do you do any creative writing, like fiction or poetry?” That caused me to pause. All I do is observe and share my thoughts. I’m more of a reporter than an artist. Perhaps I could go back through all my writing and mine out sincere moments of revelation and amazement. I tend to live vicariously always on the fringe looking in. I don’t know how to trust enough to share raw emotion, but I’m glad to know there are people who can.

Jack Kerouac’s Girlfriend Interviewed at the Kerouac House

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In 2010 one of Jack Kerouac‘s girlfriends, Joyce Johnson, visited the small College Park Cottage where Jack wrote “The Dharma Bums.” Jack and his mother rented the back rooms in those days. “Listen Joyce,” he wrote from Orlando to his girlfriend in New
York City on a winter day in 1957. He had big news. He was tearing
along on a new novel, “greater than ‘On the Road‘.” he wrote. It would be
called The Dharma Bums, and he described gazing up at the stars over
Florida for inspiration about how to wrap it up. Joyce recalled, “I thought I’d never met anyone who’d lived with more
absolute freedom … A need to keep moving, as if whenever he stayed
anywhere too long, he exhausted the present by soaking it in too
intensely.”

Several college students were filming a documentary about the legendary “Beat Generation” author. David Amram, a musician who also knew Jack was there to be interviewed as well. “Jack had a kindness and devotion to writing.” Amram explained. “He was always listening and watching like a great reporter. He was always writing epiphanies and inner feelings.” “By your words ye shall be known.” Yet for many Kerouac remains an enigma. Local news journalist and writer Bob Kieling has researched Kerouac for years, while writing about Kerouac’s Orlando connection. New material always surfaces. While in Orlando, “On the Road” was published and suddenly Kerouac was famous. Kerouac’s life spun out of control and he drank himself to death in 1969 at the age of 47. “How shall we pass most swiftly from point to point, and be present
always at the focus where the greatest number of vital forces unite in
their purest energy. To burn always with this hard, gem-like flame, to
maintain this ecstasy, is success in life.” wrote Walter Pater. The key of course is to not burn out.

Kerouac House Yard Sale Raises Money for the Resident Author Project

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The Kerouac Project hosts resident authors every few months in the house where Jack Kerouac wrote the Dharma Bums and where he was living with his mom when On the Road became a best seller putting him on the literary map. Jack really couldn’t handle the fame and he ended up drinking himself to death at a very young age. Jack is a writer who burned bright and was insanely prolific.

The Kerouac Project is a grassroots local organization hat purchased the College park home and maintains it for resident authors. The author get to live rent free with all expanses paid giving them the freedom to truly focus on their writing. The present author is Anne Marie Ni Churreain. She hails from the North-West of Ireland.
Her work has appeared in various journals such as Poetry Ireland Review
and The London Magazine. Anne Marie is the co-founder of the Upstart Arts Collective. I met Anne at a recent potluck dinner held in the Kerouac House. She comes from an incredible family with so many siblings that she can’t even be sure of the number. Her father was raised in an orphanage and so the home is filled with multicultural foster children along with her actual biological siblings. At home she is seldom alone, so the Kerouac House is a very different setting.

Once a year the Kerouac Project asks people to donated items for a Yard Sale. This is an awesome place to find books since these folks actually read printed books. Terry always finds some item she can’t live without and I relax in a lawn chair to get a sketch. Proceeds from the yard sale help keep authors coming to Orlando. Caitlin Doyle, who was a resident author last year has returned to Orlando to get away from the constant cold in Milwaukee. This is a testament to the warm reception writers get when they call Orlando Home. She will be going for her doctorate degree so that someday she will find a secure university position with tenure while she continues to write her poetry. Conversations at a Kerouac House potluck get intense, ranging from domestic violence to the state of art in America today. With enough wine, we just might solve the world’s problems.

Mark Your Calendar! On Wednesday October 22, at noon, there will be a dedication ceremony at the Kerouac House (1418 Clouser Ave, Orlando, FL), commemorating the houses recent induction into the Florida Historic Marker Foundation. Local Newscaster Bob Kealing discovered this homes tie in to the author of On The Road as he was researching an article commemorating the posthumous 75th birthday of Jack Kerouac.

Sion Dayson

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Sion Dayson was the resident writer in the Kerouac House for the winter 2013 writer in residence.

She was working in the Kerouac House through the holidays and into the new year. Sion came to Orlando from Paris.  When I visited, she had just finished work on her first novel, When Things Were Green, and was exploring new ideas. Her friend, Frédéric Monpierre, was also on hand. He is a filmmaker and he wandered around shooting footage with his digital DSLR camera. Every time he took a shot, the camera would beep loudly. It was like R2D2 kept complaining every few minutes. Regardless there was a certain magic as three artist each explored their craft.

Before Sion settled in to write, there was a knock at the front door. Two middle aged men wanted to know if they could walk through the house. She obliged, bringing them to the back of the house where Jack Kerouac wrote the Dharma Bums.  Apparently this is a regular occurrence. When the literary tourists left, she finally settled in to work. I rather enjoyed the fact that she wore bright pink slippers while she worked.

She was working on an essay about the emotional scars that everyone carries with them. There was a long moment where she paused to gather her thoughts. She held her hands under her chin almost as if she were praying. She stayed like that for the longest time before she once again attacked the page with her pen. I was intrigued by her forceful grip on the pen making it seem like she were etching her words into granite.

Sion Dayson is an American writer living in Paris, France. Her work has appeared in Hunger Mountain, Utne Reader, The Wall Street Journal, Numero Cinq and several anthologies including Strangers in Paris and Seek It: Writers and Artists Do Sleep,
among other venues. She has been a past winner of a Barbara Deming
Memorial Fund grant for her fiction and her novel manuscript placed on
the short list for finalists in the William Faulkner Wisdom Competition.
She earned her MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. You
can find out more about her work at her website, siondayson.com.

College Park Jazz Fest

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On October 26th, Terry volunteered to help collect admissions fees and put wrist bands on patrons going to the College Park Jazz Fest. About five blocks of Edgewater Drive were blocked off and there were three stages for musicians. The street was crowded with people in their lawn chairs with picnics. For $200 entire tables were rented in the street. One area had couches and lounge chairs like someone had moved their entire living room into the street. One family had the ingenious idea of loading all their lawn chairs in a large kids wagon and then using the wagon as another seat when they were unpacked. They sat as a group on the entry to a bank.

The volunteers at this entry were all members of the Jack Kerouac Project.  The Kerouac House offers residencies to writers who are offered room and board so they can focus on their writing. Author, Caroline Walker, is the present resident author at the Kerouac House. She joined the volunteers at the entry. At one point we all wondered at a bright star in the southwest sky. It didn’t flicker much, so we debated about it being a planet. Caroline had an application on her phone that clearly showed planets and constellations when she held it up to the sky. With all the bright lights from the festival, most stars were hard to see, but with the cell phone the sky blazed bright and vivid. The mysterious point of light was Venus. Mark Your Calendar, Caroline Walker will be reading at Functionally Literate, on November 22nd at The Gallery at Avalon Island (39 S. Magnolia Avenue, Orlando, Fl) starting at 6pm.

Some of the volunteers left to find some food from vendors on the street. They returned with exotic Brazilian Tacos that looked delicious. Terry and I then went to find these tacos but all I ended up finding was a huge corn dog and a Coke. Some guy in a lime green souped up car parked near our entry station and cranked up his music to drown out the live jazz, The huge tires had those hubcaps that keep spinning after the car has stopped. The doors had huge sub woofer speakers in them and they caused the street to vibrate. After a quick flurry of photos he was gone.

Kerouac House Reading, Brooks Teevan

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On Saturday June 27th, Terry and I went to a reading by Brooks Teevan at the Kerouac House (1418 Clouser Ave, Orlando, FL 32804). The Kerouac House was recently added to the National Register of Historic Places and a small brass plaque next to the front door proudly displays this humble building’s new status. Brooks Teevan came to the Kerouac House for the Summer of 2013. Her work has appeared in The Little Patuxent Review. It has also won Northwestern University’s TriQuarterly Fiction Prize and the University of Chicago’s Writer’s Studio Student Prize. Brooks hails from San Francisco and more recently Chicago.

Brooks story was fun and quirky with some unexpected turns. One character wore a nautically themed dress which is ironically what Brooks wore for her reading. One of the guests at a dinner party turned out to be an alien, literally. Hmmm, that might be a spoiler alert. Back up a sentence and strike that from the record. Geoff Benge sat like “The Thinker” in the audience, leaning forward to soak in every word.

After the reading, there was wine and conversation. Steve McCall told me about an open forum called “Sundowning” he started for people who care for Alzheimer patients. Apparently a person with Alzheimers can function normally during the day, but at night, they get aggressive and are prone to wander. The term refers to a psychological state of
confusion and restlessness that begins at dusk and during evening hours
while the sun is setting. I thought “Sundowners” would be a good title of a horror film in which aging baby boomers would wander the city streets in the evenings causing havoc and mayhem. Granted it is tasteless but it could make for an amazing apocalyptic film. Wait, wouldn’t you know, I’m too late. A film titled, “Sundowning” has been made already. Just my luck.

Any Road Will Take You There

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Terry and I went to the Kerouac House (1418 Clouser Street Orlando FL) on Saturday, July 20th at 8PM to hear David Berner read from his book “Any Road Will Take You There: A Journey of Fathers and Sons“. David, a past resident author at the Kerouac House, now resides in Chicago. He felt his life was at an impasse and decided to take a road trip with his sons to loosely follow Jack Kerouac‘s journey’s cross country. Rather than travel in a vintage automobile, he decided to travel in an RV. One of his sons said, “Its not cool dad, it is a tin can.” Regardless his son was up for the adventure.

David found a family photo which hinted at strained relations due to infidelity. He realized he had never been told about the hurt feelings and anger as he grew up. He wanted to know his own sons better. The mid-life “On the Road” trip would be a way to connect. While writing in the Kerouac House, David felt Jack’s presence in the back room and he decided that is where he would have to write.  David knew quite a bit about self publishing saying most authors never sell more than one thousand books.

After the reading David signed books at the dining room table. Brooks Teevan, the present resident artist, told us all about a news cast about a plane crash of Asiana Flight 214. The names of the pilots had been researched and a call to an intern at the MTSB confirmed the names. The captain was Sum Ting Wong, and the other pilots were Wi To Lo, Ho Lee Fuk, and Bang Ding Ow. The newscaster never skipped a beat as she read the names off the teleprompter. Someone must have been playing a prank which somehow slipped through the rigorous checks needed before the story aired. As horrible as the news of the crash was, it was impossible not to laugh. Long after the conversation had moved on to a more literary topic, Terry kept laughing uncontrollably. Just when she could catch her breath, she would start again and everyone would join in.