Plein Air Painting Demo at the Kerouac House.

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Plein Air painter Cory Wright offered a free painting demonstration at the Kerouac House, (1418 Clouser Ave, Orlando, FL 32804). The painting demonstration was one of many offered this week as part of the Winter Park Paint Out hosted by the Albin Polasek Museum. When I arrived, Museum Curator, Rachael Frisby was setting up an information table and setting out some lawn chairs.  A tall banner announced the Paint Out. It took the evening breeze like a sail held up by a mast. Once a table leg was planted on the base, it was secure.

A young couple arrived with a blanket which they spread on the lawn for a picnic. They ate chicken and sipped wine, while Cory got her easel and palette set up. I liked how she had a paper towel roll neatly hanging from her easel. She held a fist full of brushes, but told us that she tended to just use two on any given canvas. She pointed out that if you want To become a good painter, then the best thing to is draw all the time. She talked quite a bit about painting into the effect which means, having an understanding of the light direction and using that knowledge to inspire the direction the painting takes.

Cory described her process… “The beauty of plein air painting for me,
aside from the obvious delight of simply being outdoors observing
nature, is communicating the energy, immediacy, and sense of feeling
about a particular place through painting. I find I’m constantly on the
lookout for interesting patterns and contrasts in shapes, values and
color, be it a shadow cast on the sand or the reflection of a rock in
the water. Driven to make the most of sharing the beauty I experience
in my surroundings, I aim to snatch a moment of changing light and
reveal that fragment of time to others. In doing so regularly, my hope
is to become evermore skilled and masterful as an oil painter.”

As the sun set, and the golden light faded, Cory finished up her painting adding some dappled light she had observed earlier in the evening. She thanked the dozen or so patrons who had come out to watch her work and there was a moving round of applause.

Ryan Dustin at the Kerouac House.

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Ryan Dustin has been the resident author at the Kerouac House for the last several months. Writers are given a three-month residency. Each writer is provided free
lodging at the house, along with a food stipend so they can concentrate
fully on their work. To date 51 writers-in-residence from the United
States and several other countries have spent time at the Kerouac House
working on their projects.

Ryan is working on his first novel, called, “The Horse Mender.” It is set in a post apocalyptic world where people are trying to find ways to farm sustainability. A blue sketch of Jack Kerouac peered out over Ryan’s should as he read. Prior to starting this novel, Ryan strictly wrote poetry. A poem might take several hours to complete and then he needed to find something to do for the rest of the day. A novel however is a project that is ruthlessly on going.  He might complete six pages a day if he focused completely for the entire duration. As he put it, “Writing a novel is a bit crazy.” In the morning as he is lying in bed, thoughts might occur to him about what he should write about that day. Having uninterrupted open expanses of time can change your perspective. It is easy for the usual everyday chores to get in the way of a steadfast focus.

Ryan’s shirt was exquisitely wrinkled. I have no doubt that Jack’s shirts sported the same level of abandon. I don’t want to give away any aspect of the book, but the female lead was a romantic who had grown accustomed to living alone. This character appealed to me. She seemed to fit in perfectly with the sun scorched landscape. Her heart, being so protected seemed to hold the most promise in such a harsh world.

Florida is Not a Vacation: a Poetry Reading.

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The Kerouac House (1418 Clouser Ave, Orlando, Florida) hosts a resident author about every four months. Authors are picked by a committee that reads through over 300 submissions. Resident authors do not need to worry about room and board. They get time to strictly focus on their writing. I had sketched Kerouac House resident Ciara Shuttleworth hard at work as she crafted her poetry in the back of the Kerouac House. Besides being one of the more prolific writers, she was also one of the most social writers. She would hold court late into the night on the front porch of the bungalow with local authors and artists.

The reading on March 25, 2015 was Ciara’s chance to share her poetry with Orlando literati. Visit in a authors are often surprised by Orlando’s vibrant literary community. She decided to share the limelight with Florida poets that were dear friends, Sandra Simonds, and Erin Hoover. Ciara created fictionalized biographies for her friends that combined myth and heroism. These histories were worth the price of admission alone. Two more tame biographies follow.

Erin Hoover is a poet living in Tallahassee, Florida, with work published in Prairie Schooner, Gargoyle, Redivider, and Sugar House Review, and anthologized in Best New Poets 2013. Erin edits The Southeast Review in addition to volunteering for VIDA: Women in Literary Arts and is a PhD candidate in Florida State University’s Creative Writing Program. Before moving to Florida, she worked as a communications director in New York City and co-founded Late Night Library, a nonprofit organization dedicated to sustaining book culture and supporting authors early in their careers. Her Twitter is @ErinHoover.

Ciara Shuttleworth was born in San Francisco and grew up in Nebraska, Nevada, and Washington state. Her poetry has been published in journals and anthologies, including Alaska Quarterly Review, Confrontation, The New Yorker, The Norton Introduction to Literature 11e, and The Southern Review. Shuttleworth received an MFA in poetry from University of Idaho, a BFA in painting/drawing from the San Francisco Art Institute, and a BA in studio art from Gustavus Adolphus College.

Discovering the Milk Stout Float.

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On Saturday December 12, there was a house warming potluck at the Kerouac House to welcome the new resident author Sarah Viren.I had spent all day creating invites for workshops and a party to ring in the new year.  I knew Terry wanted to go to the potluck, but she was out getting a pedicure. I hadn’t done a sketch for the day, so I decided to drive over to the Kerouac House to do a nocturnal sketch of the house before people arrived for the potluck. I got in my ca and texted Terry to let her know I was heading over early. She responded, “I thought we would drive over early.”

Time for a change of plans. I decided instead to just walk around our neighborhood and sketch g home with a decent Christmas light display. The sun had just set as I walked the neighborhood. This home which was clearly hosting a holiday party caught my eye. As night settled in, the sketch got darker. I was seated in a yard across the street in the shadow of a hedge. Mosquitoes kept burning in my ears, so l raised the black hoodie to muffle the buzzing. The mosquitoes must have liked the glow of my tablet screen as well, so I kept slapping my chest to try and crush the mosquitoes that became visible silhouetted against the computer’s glow.

Two children were doing somersaults in the yard next door while it was still light. Their mom then took a large black poodle for a walk. They disappeared and then returned about a half an hour later on my side of the street. The large poodle was sniffing around the lawn I as seated on. When it was maybe fire fee away, it froze. It had noticed me. The dog owner however hadn’t noticed me. She tugged at the leash an the leash and then shrieked when she saw me. I guess that I must have looked a bit like a terrorist, or may be the Uni-bomber in my black hoodie being lit from below by the computer’s glow.

At the Kerouac Potluck, Danielle Kessinger introduced me to an amazing drink known as a Milk Stout Ice cream float. Milk Stout is dark beer much like Guinness. When I order a Guinness at an Irish bar, I like I get it with a slice of chocolate cake. Something about a dark beer and sweet is perfect together. The Milk Stout float has the same magical taste combination.  I now confider it a holiday tradition. Whenever you attend a party crowded with authors drinking wine, the conversations become insightful, deep and also hilarious. Though usually a voyeur, I found myself jumping into conversations left and right and laughing until I had to catch my breath. There is nothing quite like the fellowship of artists. I floated off the porch when it was time to go. Thankfully, Terry drove.

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“

#txtsmall challenged the audience to think and create as one.

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Fringe tech rehearsals were in full swing when performance artist Brian Feldman returned to Orlando from Washington, D.C. to do a performance of “#txtsmall” a new variation of his “txt” show. The performance took place in the home of Carl F. Gauze. Carl has written and produced many Fringe productions, so he understands the need for a good set and production values. He set an antique desk on top of a wooden stage he made for the performance. Tiki gods and lava lamps set the scene while a disco ball was the cherry on the ice cream sundae.

“txt” was first performed in 2009 at the Kerouac House. The premise is simple: Everyone in the audience logs in to an anonymous account on Twitter. invited to an account on twitter. The audience tweets and Brian reads them all aloud. This has become Brian’s signature performance and shows continue in DC. At one show in DC, every Sunday night. At one show the audience began to work together -unprompted-constructing a storyline. It was a magical, unexpected collaborative effort and Brian hoped that the Orlando show might duplicate that magic.

“#txtsmall” had an audience of six gathered in Carl’s living room. There were isolated instances when a storyline began to form involving monkeys, but like most “txt” performances, chaos and mad improvised thoughts took over. Genevieve Bernard tweeted stage directions asking Brian to dance like a lava lamp. He got up, stood at the front of the stage and moved with a liquid oozing flow.

After the show, Brian told us about a new performance he will premiere at Capital Fringe in Washington, D.C. called Dishwasher. At a mutually agreed upon time, he will go to the ticket buyer’s home, wash the dirty dishes in their sink and,
once completed, cold read any monologue he is assigned. As the show description states, “Is he a better
actor or dishwasher? You decide.” Brian’s first job was as a child actor in a production with Orlando Shakespeare Theater, his second job was as a dishwasher. This production should decide once and for all which career path he is destined to follow. If you happen to be in D.C. right now, I would have suggested you get a ticket. However the 18 show run is completely sold out.

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.

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.

Rusty Spoon

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Paul Alexander hired me to do a sketch at The Rusty Spoon, (55 W Church St, Orlando, FL) on Saturday December 4th. A party of about 30 people were going to gather for dinner for the first time. Paul knew of my work because of a sketch I did at a City Beautiful Church concert at the Lake Eola Band shell and the kind recommendations of talents like Aradhana Tiwari, Cole Nesmith and Holly Harris.

The group gathering was known as Cru. They are an international ministry with members coming from Africa, the Netherlands, Asia, Australia and Europe.  The person that Paul most wanted me to catch was Ken who had 25 years experience leading a Cru group in Asia. Paul is in charge of Digital Strategies which utilizes social media to promote the groups message to the world.

I was the first to arrive at the rusty spoon. The woman who greeted me at the door knew what I was up to cause she said, “Oh, you must be the caricature artist.” I cringed a bit since I’m not a caricature artist, but I let it pass. She went to get the waiter, who knew more about the large group I was going to sketch. He lead me to the back of the Spoon where four tables were reserved for the party. The waiter, who also thought I was a caricature artist, let me sit in an empty booth that thankfully didn’t have a table. I had plenty of room to work. I started blocking in the perspective of the place. Raw old fashioned Edison bulbs illuminated the scene.

Paul and Anne Alexander arrived as did my wife Terry. She spoke to the couple for a while and then went to watch the football game at the bar. Paul and Anne love this restaurant, although Anne lamented that the art work never changes. I have to admit that it is a bit odd having pigs, goats and cows staring at you from the walls, especially if you eat meat. People arrived and mingled. Then as each person took a seat, I quickly placed them in the sketch.

Amazingly, the sketch was done when everyone finished dinner. Some people wandered over to see what I was up to. One jovial fellow from Africa asked where he was. He must have been way back at the fourth table because I hadn’t sketched him. He said, “Your sketch is fine, bot it is incomplete without me.” Even Paul is hidden from view since his wife is seated in front of him. I managed to keep Ken clearly in focus although a late arrival sat in the corner seat blocking my line of sight toward Ken most of the dinner. I had to move and reduce the size of this person to keep Ken visible in the sketch. It is fascinating how much can be altered and recreated while still keeping a believable document of an important event. I didn’t have time to eat or drink, but Paul told me the food at the Rusty Spoon is delicious. With the sketch done, I rushed off to the Kerouac House for a pot luck dinner.

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.