Ringling Protests

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On Thursday January 9th, I went to the Amway Center to sketch protestors demonstrating against animal abuse at Ringling Brother’s and Barnam Bailey Circus. It rained the whole trip downtown, but my phone radar application showed that the storm system would be passing over leaving a clearing for the duration of a sketch. Protestors gathered under the I-4 overpass at Church Street and South Hughey Avenue. Barricades were set up, but I was told that they were for scalpers who had to remain behind them.

About 30 protesters lined up in front of the barricades and on either side of the street.  A protestor on a bull horn told people taking their children to the circus that they needed to pay attention to see if the animals in the show did the tricks willingly or to see if they were being poked and prodded by the handlers. On a humorous note, he said that the elephants don’t show up on the evening of the performance in a taxi excited to perform. They have to perform or they will be beaten and jabbed.

One sign showed a bull hook which is used to injure elephants in the show. Video on a Ringling Cruelty site show elephants being beaten right before going in front of an audience. Handlers try to keep the bull hooks from the audiences view, but as the guy on the bull horn said, “They might feel they are pulling one over on you, but we feel you are smarter than that.” Hurricane Maria was handing out information fliers. She did the task with a Disney smile and a warm greeting. Some parents however get upset and argue that they will spend their money how they please. As the guy on the bull horn announced, “The elephants are poked and prodded to perform!” A women who over heard him said, “That sounds like how my husband treats me!”

Kelly Medford, a plein air painter from Rome stopped out to sketch the protest as well. She couldn’t find parking and showed up just as I was finishing up my sketch. She was set with an easel and canvas but the protest was almost over. The Ringling show started at 7:30pm and then the protestors packed up. A faint mist settled in as I was putting the final washed on my sketch. I didn’t even notice until my hand smudged the paint. I quickly put the sketchbook away but the damage was done. The sketch glistened and when I closed the book paint smeared everywhere creating a Rorshach pattern. I groaned. I’d have to fix it back at the studio where it was dry. Kelly and I took cover under an awning and chatted for a while. She stayed behind to finish her sketch and I walked back to my car where I touched up the sketch a bit.

On the Road

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Kelly Medford was visiting Orlando from Rome, Italy. She decided she wanted to do a plein air painting of the Kerouac House. Kelly does a plein air painting every day which is astounding and ambitious. The last time I had sketched the house, I sat on a small patch of grass between a chain link fence and the street. The home owner walked her dog while I was working and when she returned, she yelled at me. I was certain the old lady would call the police. I of course told Kelly the horror story. She decided to set her easel up on the road. Traffic was light on Clouser Avenue but I had to admire her chutzpa. A garbage truck roared by and Kelly waved to the driver. I sat “On the Road” a few yards away from her and started blocking in my own sketch.

The yard around the Kerouac House had experienced a major overhaul. Palmettos and other dense foliage had been removed leaving the side of the building looking naked and exposed. I respected the buildings modesty and didn’t sketch its newly exposed flank. The house to me, had a sad worn look to it. Roof lines sagged inward and the tired beams struggled to support the weight of the tin roof. A giant live oak towered over the house, letting in only thin beams of sunlight. What a gorgeous day. I don’t sketch outside much since I’m usually sketching indoor events. This was a nice change of pace. Kelly moved the garbage can and recycling bins so they weren’t in her picture. I rather liked them, since they show that the place is and always will be occupied and alive, full of creative energy and the buzz of independent minds sharing thoughts and experiences.

A women power walked past us saying, “Hello, how nice to see artists in the neighborhood!” Kelly laughed afterwards saying, “Why doesn’t SHE live across the street from the Kerouac House?” As if on cue, the old lady came out with her bloodhound on a leash. I sucked in my breath. She disappeared around the corner, past the STOP sign, without incident. She returned and re-entered her home quietly as well. When my sketch was finished, I walked up to Kelly to see her progress. Her oil painting was completely blocked in and she was refining the details. She extended an open invitation for Terry and I to visit Rome to paint and explore. That is a very tempting invitation. A private Prix de Rome, learning about that ancient city from a resident artist. Jack Kerouac would have certainly jumped at the chance to leap over that vast expanse of the Atlantic and soak in the ancient ruins.

Sweetheart Deals – Beth Raymer

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Terry and I went to a farewell reading by Beth Raymer at the Kerouac House. Beth had been working for the past month on a novel entitled Sweetheart Deals as a writer in residence. Her first book, Lay the Favorite: A Memoir of Gambling was a huge success and it is being made into a film directed by Stephen Frears (High Fidelity, The Grifters), starring Bruce Willis, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Rebecca Hall who I assume is playing Beth. It is slated to open next year. The success of her first book meant Beth was inundated with interviews and appearances. She confided she wasn’t much of a public figure and she found all the attention distracted from her continued desire to write. The Kerouac House writer in residence program came just when she needed a chance to get away and focus on her new novel.

She was charmingly nervous as she introduced her new book, speaking a mile a minute. She curled her hair with her index finger and delicately pointed her cowboy boot inward, twisting the curve of her leg. Having written a memoir, she was used to reporting facts and her new novel recreated her family dynamic when she was six years old. The story is largely about a man based on her father, a boisterous salesman who, as it turned out had a mistress. She described the mistress in loving detail, describing the diminutive qualities that attracted her father’s attention. At one point he needed money so he set fire to his business. Beth consulted with local insurance agents to see if the facts of her story worked. The story is set in Florida, so Beth was glad to return to feel the humidity and see lizards dashing under foot. Vivid childhood memories surfaced. She liked to work at the kitchen table in the Kerouac House, often editing in the afternoons. Like Jack Kerouac she has lived a vibrant unconventional life. She is new to Facebook and on a dark evening she got a friend request from a mysterious Jack from beyond the grave.

Beth seemed to enjoy the sketch, although as usual the nose is a bit off. There were so many talented people in the house that evening. Kelly Medford who lives in Rome is a plein air painter who does a painting a day. Authors stood in the open kitchen doorway laughing about local characters. Patrick Greene told me about a harvest of sugar cane that would make a great, “Old Florida” sketch opportunity. Leaning against a stove, a young man in a baseball cap pulled a bright fire engine red flask from a hip pocket and the final drops were emptied into a drink.

Beth offered me some delicious fruit salad she had prepared. In the kitchen, she talked about how odd it was that so many British actors were in the movie version of her first book. The screenplay writer, DeVincentis, brought his background to the story and the director had his personal vision. It must have been hard to give up control especially when it is the story of her life. I told her how I felt I gave up my artistic identity when I worked for Disney Feature Animation, and how I’m just now rediscovering that inner voice. She raised her cup of wine and we toasted.

The Medium – Performance day.

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Kelly Medford, a plein air painter from Italy picked up the extra ticket I had to see The Medium. Italians love opera. I arrived early knowing I would like to start blocking in a view from the upstairs balcony. This “God’s eye view” seemed appropriate for the seance scene. When I arrived, the valet was quick to take my keys. Parking would be tight since this was a private residence. Admission to this rare staging was by invite only. I had my invitation in my bag but by now everyone knew me.

I rushed up the grand staircase and got to work. I leaned against a marble pillar as I sketched. Kelly arrived and I was pleasantly surprised when she pulled out her own sketchbook. She moved a folding chair to where she was working and I decided to grab one myself. I stepped on it and used my horizontal calf as a table to steady the open sketchbook. I had a book-light but realized that I didn’t need it since the afternoon sun warmed the room.

Frank McClain announced that they were going to wait a few moments for more people to arrive. Baba said something similar to her guests before the seance began in Act I. Out the top of the tall windows I could see the lake. I joked with Kelly that the delayed guests must be arriving by boat. She said, “Or they are arriving by seaplane!” Frank, seated next to me, dimmed the lights and the room grew quiet.

Monica and Toby began the act in a playful scene of fantasy. Baba interrupted their play when she entered loudly. Monica ran to her room and Toby cowered. Baba’s every movement was threatening. She was larger than life. She drank heavily and when she whipped Toby, anger rose in me. Her every frustration was unleashed on that poor adopted boy. The performance flowed effortlessly. I was surprised that I finished my sketch early so I put it away and leaned forward on the railing, looking down.

Baba, played by Susan Neves was singing about the horrors she had witnessed in her life. When she sang, “Oh God, forgive my sins, I’m old.”, I identified with her growing madness. “Old Black Swan” is my favorite aria from the show. First Monica, played by Shannon Jennings sang it then Baba sang it in the last act. It is a haunting melody. I was glad the sketchbook was tucked away. I let the music wash over me.

After the performance there was applause. I stood and clapped loudly. The audience below me was hidden. There was deserts and port in the parlor afterwards. The port came in the tiniest little glass stemware. The sweet liquid warmed my throat. I had to raise a pinky to drink it. I couldn’t have just one. I couldn’t resist swirling the alizarin crimson liquid in my cup. Unfortunately it slipped over the edges into my hand. I did that twice and then finally washed my sticky hand in the kitchen sink. I recognized many of the people in the room from the days when opera thrived in Orlando. Besides the exclusive residential productions, the show will be staged at the Orlando Repertory Theater on December 3rd at 7:30pm and December 4th at 2:30pm. You can get tickets at floperatheater.org or call 407 718-4365. Opera is back!