Angelle’s Whiskey River

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Terry and I had been to Whiskey River the last time we were in Louisiana. The place is a dive bar located on the edge of a swamp in Henderson. We exited off the rural road and climbed a steep dirt road up an embankment over a levee. Dust rose creating a cloud behind us. The bar was a ramshackle place with a crude dance hall built with exposed beams and plywood. Five dollars at the door got us a wrist band. The band was doing a sound check. I sat at a bar at the back of the dance hall. When I started the sketch the place was almost empty but by the time I finished the place was packed wall to wall with people. The beers flowed. When the sketch was done I decided to drop my bag of art supplies off in the rental car.

Walking back to the bar a fellow stumbled towards me. His eyes were bloodshot. He had already had too much to drink. I shook his hand as he welcomed me. “You are going to have the time of your life buddy.” he said. I smiled thanked him and went inside. The band was called Geno Delafose & French Rockin‘ Boogie. Terry was on the sidelines of the dance floor swaying to the Cajun beat. I tapped her on the shoulder and we made our way out on the dance floor. We couldn’t help but bump into other couples. People were twirling, stomping and dipping to the beat. The accordion twisted its notes in a frenzy. A musician with a washboard on his chest scraped his spoons in quick and fluid wrist movements.

Terry and I did a dance move we learned at a folk festival once. We held hands and I twirled her keeping our grip until our arms formed a graceful knot. We then spun to untangle ourselves and we went the other way. The fellow from the parking lot was dancing up a storm. He was suddenly all balance as he gripped a girl close. These folks all knew how to dance. The plywood floor was pounding and swaying. A sign on a ceiling beam read, “No parking on the dance floor.”

Terry and I danced to the point of exhaustion. She confessed that this was her favorite place in the universe. Outside the light dimmed and the silver blue green hanging moss grew dark. We ordered some food from a food truck out in the parking lot. The lady inside got every order wrong but it didn’t matter I would have eaten anything. Mosquitoes the size of humming birds buzzed around us. When the music and dancing ended, we drove back towards our hotel getting lost on the rural roads.

Tropical Isle’s Bayou Club

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In the evening, Terry and I ventured out into the madness of Bourbon Street. I thought this place was only packed at Mardi Gras time but the craziness seems to happen every night of the week. Terry had on a nice dress and was carrying a beer in a paper cup. Some guy walked right into her and spilled her drink down the front of her dress. She screamed at him and threw the remaining beer at his back. We lowered our shoulders and stuck out our elbows whenever someone stumbled into us. Women with big butts jiggled them in open doorways inviting people in to see the live sex acts. People were tossing bead necklaces down from balconies to people who flashed some skin.

Terry knew where she wanted to go. She was looking for the one bar that played traditional Cajun music on Bourbon Street. In every bar there seemed to be live music. Cars crossing would have to crawl through the never ending crowd. We finally found the Bayou Club and were lucky enough to find a table right up front. The band, T’ Canaille, was doing its sound check. The accordion player went up to the bar and had several shots to warm up. I sketched quickly through the first set. People in the audience were invited to stand in front of the band and play the washboard with spoons. Unfortunately people who went up were either drunk or they had no sense of rhythm.

When the second set started, Terry turned to me and said, “Lets dance.” We danced on the tiny dance floor with several other couples until we were exhausted. Back on the street, I felt practiced now as we navigated the throngs. It was easier to dance through the insanity than to fight our way through the crowd.

Jubal’s Kin

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Jubal’s Kin consists of the home grown talents of Eric Jaskowiak, Roger Amundsen and his sister Gailanne Amundsen. Roger and Gailanne harmonize beautifully. They were on tour in Alabama but returned to Orlando to perform after a reading by Deborah Reed at Urban ReThink. Deborah wrote a book about a Central Florida musician who floundered after her husband cheated on her. She lost her will to sing and sequestered herself away. Julie Norris’s baby girl, named Maya, danced to the sweet Appalachian folk music.

My favorite song was called “Everything is Free.”

Everything is free now,

That’s what they say.

Everything I ever done,

Gotta give it away.

Someone hit the big score.

They figured it out,

That were gonna do it anyway,

Even if it doesn’t pay.

Gailanne’s voice is absolutely beautiful and the harmony with her brothers voice reminded me of the simple sounds of early Simon and Garfunkel. Their sweet melancholy songs seeped straight into my soul. I had to buy their CD and it has been playing every time I drive to a new sketch location this week. They are a rare, young and talented group, and we are lucky they call Orlando home. After the book signing performance, Jubal’s Kin headed right back to Nashville Tennessee to continue their concert tour.

Free Jazz, Improvisation

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The thing that I find fascinating about the Accidental Music Festival is that each evening is truly unique. I never know what to expect when I walk into Urban ReThink. This evening was unique to say the least. As sound technicians scurried and adjusted mics, I started blocking in my sketch. I was impressed by the drum set which was covered with decals. In itself it was a visual treat. Kris Gruda performed on guitar. He wrestled with the instrument contorting his body to the sounds produced. He experimented with how to create music. A glass was pressed against the frets, a drum stick banged against the strings. The water bottle at his feet became an instrument as he twisted it creating sharp plastic sounds. I loved when he used a kazoo and played it in a cup of water. That was music any dentist could appreciate.

Jill Burton performed vocals. I can’t say she was singing since there were no lyrics. Her vocal chords were just an instrument to create experimental sounds. At one point she sounded like a whale at another like an Indian princess speaking in tongues. Part of me wanted to laugh and yet some passages were quite operatic. Lord knows I don’t understand opera, yet it is considered art. Her throat howled like the wind, filling the empty room.

My favorite performance came at the end of the evening with Michael Welch on drums and Daniel Jordon on saxophone playing a close approximation of Jazz. Drum Talk was a solo performed by Michael and it sounded very much like a beat generation mantra. The sets were long and uncharted. Daniel introduced himself slyly saying, “It has been a long time since I’ve been the corniest cat at a gig.” When the song ended, he thanked Urban ReThink for, “bringing real musical expression to Orlando in what is otherwise a f*cking wasteland. This evening allowed the artists to perform something new rather than reenacting what happened in the past.”

Contemporary Chamber Music

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The Accidental Music Festival hosted an evening of contemporary chamber music at Urban ReThink (625 E. Central Blvd). When I arrived, musicians were milling around and there was the usual mad rush to get everything in place and working by show time. Violinist Eric Smith introduced himself. He knew of my work since I had sketched a string quartet he played with in Winter Park last winter. He said someone shot video of the performance and there I was in the front row of some chairs set up in the street sketching away.

For the first piece Brandon Clinton played piano and Christopher Belt, the festival organizer, played guitar. I decided to sketch from halfway up a staircase. Each chamber music pieces was short and to the point. Eladio Sharron performed with Carrie Wiesinger on flute. Their piece elicited a standing ovation from the 30 or so attendees. On a trip to Germany, I discovered that a very distant relative, Cornelia Thorspecken, is a professional flute player in Wiesbadden. She gave me a CD and since then I’ve become infatuated with the pure sweet tone of the flute. Thad Anderson performed last doing a drum solo. He warned people sitting close that things were going to get loud. If people needed to shield their ears, he wasn’t going to be insulted. Bravely people stayed where they were. It was a stunning way to end the otherwise peaceful evening of music.

On the outer edge of each step of the staircase I was on, there were small candles in glass jars. I was careful to avoid them when I rooted around in by bag for art supplies. When the concert was over, an old man came down the steps cradling his empty dishes from the salad he ate during the concert. He had a cane and it dragged next to him as he walked down. The cane knocked over every candle on the way down. A sound technician followed him down, righting each candle as it tumbled. He turned to me and said, “Unbelievable.” Luckily they were not lit. It was hilarious simply because the guy had no clue about the havoc he was causing.

Accidental Music Festival

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The Accidental Music Festival will feature 10 nights of concerts, lectures and films celebrating creativity in music. The festival was started by Christopher Belt. He asked to use the space at Urban ReThink and it just happened that The Civic Minded Five, another music group had scheduled concerts the same week. He said to Patrick Green, “It’s like an accidental music festival.” The name stuck. On the second day of the festival, I stopped into Urban ReThink to see Jason Kahn and Bryan Eubanks perform.

I arrived sweaty after a full day of painting the Mennello Museum Mural. I waved to Pat Green in his office and headed straight to the bathroom. Opening the men’s room door, I was startled to see two young women. The woman directly in front of me had her shirt off, wearing a black satin bra. She shouted raising her hand up. Time slowed down. I responded, “Whoops, sorry!” as the door slammed shut. I sat on a small stack of chairs in the hall which shifted awkwardly under my weight. I waited for a while, then I decided they might need privacy, so I went to grab a beer.

The instruments were a huge tangle of wires. Jason sat behind mixing boards, coils, contact microphones, and a sound recorder that played back ambient sounds of the room. A synthesizer processed and modulated sounds, creating feedback loops. Bryan who built many of his instrument components, used guitar effects pedals, a master mixer to mix sources like radio frequencies, ambient room noise and sound clips he randomly collected over the years. He used Super glider,a computer program, to generate sound. All the sounds were generated live in real time.

Initially the sounds generated reminded me of the THX sound system audio played at the start of movies. Brian described their music as a collaborative structure with both players seeking a balance to fill it out. The music generated was unpredictable. Both musicians sought control but the form was complicated by movements or unexpected shifts. This would knock the musician out of the ring, out of control, as he adjusted. Lisa Bates shouted out, “Just like in life!” Jason agreed feeling their music corresponds to the vast barrage of information generated by social networks today. The music was completely intuitive with balance and disruption. It is not your typical acoustic sound. The sound generated inspired me to attack the drawing aggressively my hand moving in syncopation to the changing, unpredictable modulations.

Two young college girls inspected my sketch. One was an artist herself. She did a pencil sketch of Bryan during the performance and gave it to him. The artist seemed annoyed at me, but her friend was enthusiastic and affable. I told her about Urban Sketchers and said she should take a look at the sight. I wondered if these were the women I had interrupted in the bathroom. I couldn’t be sure. In shock, I forgot to look at her face. The Accidental Music Festival will continue through September 13th. Admission to all the events is free but donations are accepted.

Le Musee de l'impressionisme

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Robert Callender wrote a show that takes you through Le Musee de l’impressionisme room by room, with live musicians, dancers, and singers. The show was produced once in NY, so this was a chance to see it in Florida at the Timucua White House (2000 S. Summerlin Ave). Each musical number was based on a different impressionist painter, like Renoir, Monet, Bazille, Morisot, Gauguin, Van Gogh, Degas and Henri de Toulouse–Lautrec.

Once Terry and I got to the White House, I made my way to the third floor to start my sketch. I sat against the railing along with a couple from out of town. Terry went downstairs to open the bottle of wine we had bought. I knew the dancers were from Emotions Dance and I was excited to see them perform. Three female vocalists backed up Robert Callender and the band was talented and tight with two guitars, a sax, Trumpet, bongo drums, a full drum set played by Benoit Glazer, the evenings host, and a wind synthesizer.

Wine wasn’t allowed on the third floor so Terry never rejoined me. I got several texts from her where she praised the band. All of the dancing was improvised on the spot. I spoke with dancer, Cindy Michelle Heen, after the performance and she described how she lost herself in the music and the energy from the audience. Her body moved freely without the restrictions of second guessing. I sketched the dancers when they came out in bright red skirts for the Lautrec piece. For an inspired moment I felt like I was at the Moulin Rouge. Durring the second half of the performance, Paula Large sat at an easel in the back corner of the stage and she did a composite caricature sketch of the performers.

Red Wine Wednesdays

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Every Wednesday between 5pm and 8pm, the Global Beer Lounge and Grill (301 Church Street) across from the Amway Center, offers a $15 unlimited select wine and beer. I arrived shortly after work. Yvonne Coleman of WLOQ 103.1 FM was seated at a table using her laptop. The corner of the room was set up as a stage with saxophones and trumpets neatly arranged in a semicircle. I decided to camp out at the end of the bar which offered a clear view of the musicians. They were doing a sound check. Yvonne let me know that the musicians would start playing later as the place filled up.

I focused on the setting and composition. The musicians were sketched in quickly when they took to the stage. As expected the jazz was lively and entertaining. The musicians paced the room walking table to table. There was a table full of women and the sax player serenaded them with his saxophone and squealed as he reached his credcendo. After the first set, Yvonne introduced me to Guy Rawlings of WESH Channel 2 and Paul Stevens from a Circle of Friends.

When I packed up my art supplies, the place was packed. The evening was just getting started.

Southern Fried Sunday

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Southern Fried Sunday organized by Jessica Pawli was an all day music festival and more with ticket sales going to benefit the Mustard Seed. It was Jessica’s birthday and she celebrated by giving back to the community. The benefit featured 17 musical acts at 3 venues on Mills Avenue. The Mustard Seed is a furniture and clothing bank that helps rebuild lives of individuals and families who have experienced a tragedy, disaster or homelessness. When I arrived at Mills Avenue I decided I wanted to draw Wally’s Mills Avenue Liquors. Women in bikinis were holding signs that read, “Free beer” and some were hula hooping. There was a long line of black Harley Davidson motorcycles parked in front of the bar. I sat down and the second I opened my sketchbook it started to rain. I rushed up the street to Will’s Pub.

I was issued a tan armband. I walked into the dark room with a stage. People were seated all around the edge of the room and there were no empty sects left so I sat on my camping stool up close to the stage. Bartender Brian Hanson was performing. I didn’t know if he had just started or if he was almost finished so I worked quickly. He closed his eyes lost in the music. His deep raspy voice filled the room. Sure enough he had only one song more to sing. When he got off stage he spoke to the woman seated beside me. Her name was Mech Anism. He didn’t think it was one of his better performances.

“Greenland is Melting” from Gainsville Florida was the next group up. Their lively act had everyone clapping and swaying. The guy on the cello bobbed his head up and down violently, his hair a flowing mad mess.The guitarist and banjo player harmonized the lyrics. I was having so much fun sketching to the music. I could have listened to these guys all day.It was over way too fast.

“Kitchy Kittens Burlesque Dancers” wandered through the crowd asking for donations for Mustard Seed. They looked amazing in their 1940’s Pin Up Girl themed costumes. They were on stage for only a minute so I didn’t catch them in a sketch. I couldn’t stay all day. I had time for one more sketch before meeting my wife Terry, Amanda Chadwick and Matt Simantov at the Food Truck Bazaar.

Filming Hank Williams Jr. at Full Sail

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Full Sail sent out an e-mail saying they needed extras for the filming of an NFL Monday Night Football theme song by Hank Williams Jr. When I arrived at Full Sail Live there was a small crowd of people outside in their football jerseys. There was a registration tent for media and one for extras. I decided to sign in with the extras. The release basically said that when I entered the film set I would not hold Full Sail responsible for any injuries I sustained. The group of football fans were being lead inside. I quickly signed my life away and ran to get in with them. We all waited in the lobby as a stage hand explained the ground rules. Inside we could hear loud music and screaming. Someone leaned over and said, “Looks like we’re missing the party.” We were told that we could leave the filming area at any time but we wouldn’t be able to get back in. One of the football fans started eating M&Ms from a catering table. Our guide said, “That food is for the paid extras.” The M&Ms were dropped.

Once inside I separated from the group and looked for a vantage point to sketch from. I sat up on an empty stage platform and got to work. Most of the time everyone stood around waiting for the filming to begin. I had no idea if I was in the shot or not. I kept thinking someone would tell me to move closer into the crowd. I must have looked like I was part of the crew as I worked furiously on the sketch. Hank Williams Jr. ambled out with his cowboy hat, cigar and big sunglasses. He posed for pictures with a few people then got on the stage which was painted like a football field. When I sketched him, he had his back to me as he sat waiting for the next take.

Finally the cameras were ready to roll. The drummer started playing and Hank strutted around on the stage as cheerleaders danced. People were moving their lips to the lyrics but no one sang. Then sparks began to cascade from the ceiling. In a second shot everyone was warned that there were loud firecrackers above their heads. They were told they were safe as long as they stayed on the near side of a red line on the floor. I was on the wrong side of the line. I glanced up and there was the pyrotechnic device maybe 10 feet above my head. I can sketch under most conditions but this time I decided to move. The explosions were loud and everyone screamed even louder. The director called, “Cut! Alright everyone it’s time for lunch.” My sketch wasn’t finished but I had no choice, the extras were being ushered out. I had no need to get back to the testosterone fueled NFL theme song war zone.