47th Annual Winter Park Christmas Concert

Posted on by Thor

 

After getting back to the United States from Europe, I started sketching events that returned a feeling of normalcy. I have sketched the Winter Park Christmas Concert multiple times before and returned despite the 30 mile drive to get there. It was dark by the time I got to Winter Park and traffic seemed insane. I took back roads to get to the city hall since I had always found a parking spot there in the past. I started loosing hope of finding a parking spot, the closer I got.

When I found the lot, it was jam packed but I drove up and down the aisles anyway. At the end of the last aisle, there was a single parking spot. I shouted for joy. It was devine providence. I quickly packed up my art bag and walked down Park Avenue towards Central Park where I could hear musicians warming up in the bandshell.

The park was also packed with people in lawn chairs chatting with neighbors. There was no way I would get a sketch of the stage. I decided to sit close to the back of the crowd and draw the Tiffany Windows from the Morse Museum, that were on display. There were four Tiffany windows that stood among the crowd like the monolith from 2001 a Space Odyssey. The windows were surrounded by police tape and each had a docent standing guard. The illuminated windows faced the stage. I thought that it would have made more sense for the to face out towards the audience. Maybe the glow would have interfered with the audience seeing the tiny performers on the stage in the distance.

I set up my artist stool which had served me so well in Europe and leaned back against a utility box facing back looking at the stained glass windows. I start each sketch by writing the date in the lower right hand corner of the sketch. I dug into my pockets for my iPhone. I couldn’t find it. Bloody hell. I use the phone for navigation and have just recently started mounting it above the steering wheel. In Europe, I forgot the phone a couple of times. I developed the habit of taking a photo of where ai parked the car which helped as I searched for the car and it guaranteed I had my phone in hand. Here in Winter Park, I didn’t think to shoot a photo of my magnificent parking spot.

I must have left the phone back in the car. I decided I had to hike back. As I approached my car someone was slowly driving behind me. He rolled down his window and asked if zi was leaving. I apologized and said no. The phone case also held all my credit cards. The last thing ai needed was for someone to walk by and see the glow of the phone along with all the credit cards on display. I got back to the car sweaty. The phone was not over the driving wheel. I tore my art bag apart again looking for it. Could it have fallen out of my pocket between the car and the concert? I started throwing items in the back seat.

Where the hell was it? I flipped both indoor light on and searched under the seats. Ultimately I found the phone lying under my art bag in the passenger seat. Why on earth dit I put it there? In the distance I could hear the introductions starting for the concert. I needed to get back.I rushed back to the park. A family h ad set up where I had sat previously. I sat right behind them to get a similar angle to the sketch I had started which had a square in the lower right hand corner for a date. I filled in the date and started sketching.

The couple seated in the foreground of my sketch were waiting for friends to arrive. When their friends arrived everyone stood and talked throughout the rest of the concert. This scene played out throughout the crowded fields. Few people came for the concert. They came for conversation. In France, Belgium, Netherlands and Germany I got used to ignoring the din of conversations in crowded spaces. It was easy since I didn’t understand a word of what was being said. This concert was similar with constant conversation and a hint of Christmas music in the background.

When Silent Night was being performed on stage, I decided that was my cue to consider the sketch complete and head back to the car. With so many people rushing to leave Winter Park, I wanted to be on the road before that back up. I missed the crush of cars and drive 30 miles back to Lake County.

For a sketch like this, I usually arrive early and sketch while there is still light. This time that wasn’t an option. I can only reassure myself that this isn’t the worst drawing I ever did.

Forest to Mausoleum

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A day or two before I left for Europe to follow in my father’s footsteps in WWII, a roof was thrown up on the home being built next to the Lake County studio I was renting. The lot had been a lush forested area just a few weeks before. The sand mountain the home sat on had been leveled and built up in a day. The cinder block mausoleum had gone p in a day, and now the roof structure went up in a day. This was now the largest home in the area on its own mountaintop/

The roof beams had an interesting inverted series of beams which I suppose are to keep the roof from collapsing inward in the high winds of a hurricane. All the triangular sections were delivered to the job site pre-assembled. They were each lifted int place where workmen quickly hammered them into place.

All the workmen spoke Spanish which made me concerned for their safety in the new hate fueled policies of ICE, seizures and deportations. I have seen photos of rooms filled with workmen still in their uniforms in detention centers, having been rounded up from their work sites.

I am in Europe right now in Northern France about to cross the border into Belgium. Russia has just sent military drones over Poland  and it feels like WWIII is about to break out with Trump, a wanna be dictator, in the White House who is owned by Putin.

80 years ago America helped defeat dictators and bring about world peace. Nuclear bombs were used to stop the war in the  Pacific. That was a questionable decision which I hope is never repeated. It only takes a few petty, power hungry men to break down democracy and embrace autocracy in a lust for land, power and a desire to stay in power indefinately.

Beach Day

Posted on by Thor

I woke up to the sound of a loud metal bang. Dump trucks were dumping piles of sand on the now empty Lake County  lot which had been a lush forest only days before. The loud bank would happen when the back door of the dump truck slammed back into the truck chassis once the pile of sane was completely dumped.The lot next door was becoming a deserted, beach.

A single John Deere  Wheel Loader would take the sand and spread it out to each corner of the lot. The annoying thing is that any time the Wheel Loader backed up it would beep loudly. The beeping persisted all day long, so I decided I had to go out and sketch rather than attempt to ignore the insentient nagging of the beeping.

Once all the piles of sand were spread out, the driver of the excavator would stop to rest and wait for another dump truck to arrive with more sand.

The entire lot was covered in sand by the time my sketch was complete but the beeping persisted all afternoon.

Someone arrived in a pick up Truck and he rolled out a black fabric fence about the height of the black wooden fence in this yard. I’m guessing the black fabric fence was meant to keep the desert contained in the event of a sand storm.

As the sun set, I went into the back yard to look at the progress once again. What I found was what looked like a Mayan temple with the Excavator parked on the top platform. The sand platform was now higher that the top of the fencing in the studio front yard.

Whatever home was going to built on this insanely high mound would not have issues with flooding because all of the water would run off onto the property I was standing on. During hurricanes and seasonal storms, this property already floods. With the temple of packed sand next door the water would flood the low lying planes which I was sketching from.

Strip for Profit

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

The Lake County Studio used to have a lush undeveloped lot full of tall pine trees and underbrush. In a matter of days that lot was cleared with all the trees cut down and the roots ripped out using large machinery.

There was a backboard set up at the edge of the studio property with a bench in front of it. The bench was rather worn, needing replacement boards. Most important, this section of the yard got plenty of shade. That is no longer the case, now this corner of the yard is exposed to full sun. The backboard was destroyed because the root system of a tree caused it to get knocked apart. Boards now are at odd angles. A section of the black cattle ranch fencing was also destroyed.

At first the developer only wanted the first 80 feet of the yard stripped barren. But on this day more trees were removed and the underbrush stripped bare. A canoe was found which had a bullet hole and some decking. The canoe was ripped in half by the jaws of the machinery. Fence damage in the back yard is now highly exposed, looking out on a barren war torn landscape.

Development in the area is encroaching fast. Large farms are being bought up to be turned in to lifeless home developments stacked with ticky tacky box homes wall to wall.

I am now researching French and German cities my father fought in at the end of WWII. Entire rural towns resembled the lifeless lot next door, flattened by 50 ton bombs, artillery and tanks.

80 Feet of Destruction

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

An otherwise quiet morning was interrupted by the sound of a chainsaw and a loud thud that shook the ground. A lot was being cleared that had been a dense forest for hundreds of years in the quiet suburbia development in Lake County, Florida.  Dense forest had been a perfect source of shade in the sweltering summer. I had looked at the lot on Zillow and it sold for $96,000. If a $400,000 home were built, there, was plenty of profit to be made.

My friend, had set up a bench near the street that relied on the shade of the trees to offer a resting place for people walking through the neighborhood. It was about to be drenched in endless blazing sunlight. The workers used it to store equipment and drinks.

One worker, known as the climber, had sharp metal cleats on his boots and he was the one who would cut off branched high overhead, and then fell the tree trunk half way up. A large backhoe would push over what remained of the tree trunk and dig up the roots.

The climber was almost pushed off the tree by the backhoe which was pushing over another tree. The tree branches narrowly missed the climber and he shouted down to the ground for them to take more care. In the haste to flatten the lot quickly, they were being reckless.

One of the crew had once been a climber in his youth. Back then, he was up in a tree 30 feet in the air, and the tree snapped at the base, falling to the ground with him in it. A tree branch punctured his upper thigh and didn’t stop until it hit bone. He never climbed another tree.

A large osprey, clutching a fish landed in one of the few remaining trees on the lot. He ate his breakfast as the devastation happened below him. The next day, the osprey returned and could not find the tree he had landed in the day before. Confused, he landed on the grass in the back yard for a moment. He was magnificently large, only about 10 feet from me. He spread his large wings and took off with the fish to find another branch high above the ground to feast upon his catch.

As I sketched, a dragon fly hoovered next to me looking at the habitat being destroyed. He hoovered in place for about five minutes, curious and perhaps horrified. The dragon fly didn’t notice me, we both stared in disbelief. It was a surreal scene. I could see the wheels turning in his little insect mind. Perhaps the dense forest had once been his home. It had also been home to owls, snakes, several ducks, and squirrels who played among the branches. At night that lot had always been full of mysterious noises. Now it would be silent.

A worker explained to me that they were only clearing about two thirds of the property, about 80 feet back from the road. A stake with a small orange strip of fabric marked where they would stop. The lot had been purchased by a developer who was going to quickly build a house for profit. The dense forest growth would fill the back yard of the new home being built. After one day of cutting, only a few trees remained in the front 80 feet of the property. It took hundreds of years for the trees on the lot to grow, but absolute devastation happened in just a few days.

KFC

Posted on by Thor

By Thomas Thorspecken

I drove to Crealdé to drop off a painting for a show happening at Casa Feliz (656 N. Park Avenue, Winter Park Florida). That show, titled In Good Company is happening from August 5 to August 28, 2025. the hours are Tuesday through Friday and Saturdays 10am to 4pm. Admission is free.

On the way to Crealdé, I passed a Mediterranean restaurant I used to go to religiously with a friend named May Hill. I decided I should order lunch there and sketch the interior. However when I got there, there was a sign on the door that said, “Dear friend, I am sorry but we must close for a few weeks due to family matters.” Ugh, so disappointing.

So, on the drive back to Lake County, I just looked for fast food options. I stopped into KFC. I can not resist the original recipe.

There is no human interaction anymore inn fast food joints. If you want to talk to a person you must use the drive through. KFC was a staple that got me through the School of Visual Arts in NYC. I used to order chicken all the time at the restaurant across from Macy’s.

Today you have to order using a computer kiosk. I got lost in an endless loop trying to order my meal. The kiosk kept adding cherry pastry bites to my meal and there was no way to remove the offending item from my order. Frustrated, I finally gave up and took the bloody sweets. A gentleman was trying to place his order next to me. After my order was approved, I helped him out. He kept ordering $20 and $30 family meals but he just wanted a few bites for himself. I guided him through the choices I had made. I was essentially doing the work for the KFC corporation with no paycheck. Annoyed the guy next to me said, These kiosks are here so we do the work the employees used to do.

The woman who handed out the meals was doing a stellar job. She apologized any time a meal was late and she addresses the woman as mama. “You wait right there moma, your order is coming right up.” she said.There was a major rush of orders as I was sketching. The woman must have been a manager, because once the rush had subsided, the clapped loudly and shouted, “You all did an amazing job.” That woman deserved a a tip, but tips are not an option with human interaction stripped from the ordering process.

As I was sketching I watched a young couple struggled with trying to order on the kiosk. I have no idea why a KFC chicken bucket was hanging from the ceiling as decoration. It makes for a very odd chandelier.

Soap Box Derby Kart Race

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By Thomas Thorspecken

I drove to Fruitland Park in Lake County Florida for the Soap Box Derby Kart Race. I found a small shady spot behind a sign for the Connection Point Church.

Fathers and sons were instructed to gather spare parts from around the yard to assemble their karts. No kit karts were allowed. The derby karts had to be designed based on a Little Rascals division design.

About a dozen karts were arranged in an assembly area for spectators to view before the racing began. Each kart had to pass an official inspection. Each karts closed floor had to have a minimum clearance of three inches from the ground. There could be no motors and the drivers head could not be enclosed in the kart design. Karts had to have working brakes. Fox Trot Hill empties out onto 48

The young jockey wore the most advanced protective equipment, including, but not limited to, Eye goggles, knee pads, elbow pads and motorcycle helmets.

A DJ played music under the Fruitland Park tent. Then everyone was instructed to rise for the Star Spangled Banner. I took my hat off and place it over my heart.

Dads, pushed the karts up to the starting line with the drivers at the steering wheel. Karts took turns being gently pushed down Fox Trot Hill. They roared down the hill at the pace of an average quick walk. A yellow ATV was used to tow the karts back up the hill. They probably moved faster being towed than they did at full speed down the hill. Each driver had three attempts to improve their time going down the hill. There were three trophies at the final assembly area.

Clayton Watts won 1st place and $250 at the Fruitland Park Soap Box Derby Race!  Weston Johnson finished 2nd and earned $175 and Tyler Watts finished 3rd earning $125.

Princess and the Pea Bed

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By Thomas Thorspecken

The studio I am renting in Lake County Florida already had a bed frame and mattress. Since I have a mattress and box spring, I simply stacked them all on top of one another. To get into bed I have to step onto my flat file and then roll on in.

When I had my surgery several months ago that neutered me sexually, my sister came to the studio to be sure there were no horrible side effects. We agreed that I shouldn’t be performing a high jump to get into bed so she slept in the Princes and the Pea bed.

My sister is a bit older than I am and it took some coaching to convince her it was easy to get up into the bed. Once she was up for the first time, she felt more comfortable. Getting out of bed is far more easy, you just slide off the ledge and end up in a standing position. She enjoyed the process of getting out of bed, it makes the morning routine more of an adventure.

I work all day at my Disney desk, or out on location sketching. I just return to the bedroom to collapse and sleep. Drawings and art keep stacking up on top of the flat files. The stack hasn’t reached the ceiling yet so there is plenty of room for more art. To do this sketch I sat in a small reclining chair that I was using for the first time. It has a back massage settings, but I turned that off while sketching since it would have been distracting.

My life is in a strange limbo right now, so there is no reason to unpack every storage crate. Everything might go into storage in an instant, or I might commit to finding a home/studio of my own. I am committed to renting the Lake County Studio through the end of May. In June I need to decide where “home” might be. I have been working non stop since I got here and haven’t had the time to discover the local arts scene. Home could be anywhere I decide to start sketching next. My life could literally turn in any direction. I have no ties. I am a tumbleweed.