Beach Day

Posted on by Thor

Pam, her niece and I took a trip to New Smyrna Beach. We had an industrial strength umbrella and I stayed under it as often as possible to stay out of the sun. Pan and her niece however lounged n the sun pretty much all day.

When we arrived I quickly slathered on some sun screen and joined them out in the waves. I wore a baseball cap to keep my scalp from burning but didn’t thing to bring a tee shirt for while I was in the water. Maybe I was out in the waves for 20 minutes at most.

The rest of the afternoon I rested in the umbrella’s shade with a white towel covering my legs. I sketched Pam while she read a gourmet magazine.

By the end of the day Pam’s niece was lobster red. Pam got some sun mostly on her upper legs and I figured I was fine. That evening however I looked in the bathroom mirror and found that my chest was a checkerboard of protected spots and spots that were turning beat red. I had been rather sloppy with my sunscreen slathering missing several kept spots like the tender spot at the base of my arm we tend to call my turkey cutlet. Pam had applied sun screen to my back and that was completely protected.

Pam’s niece was burnt everywhere and several days later pealed a huge sheet of flesh off of her upper thigh the side of a sheet of office paper. Regardless it was well worth it to be able to relax and listen to the waves. The salty breeze coming off the waves also opened my airways and lungs and it felt like it was the first refreshing breaths I had taken in over a year. There were two shark attacks the weekend we were at the beach but for once I let my COVID radar relax.

 

First light of the first day of 2017.

Posted on by Thor

I usually host a New Year’s Day party each year with my wife. Now that I’m separated, that didn’t feel like the right thing to do. Besides my downtown apartment is too small. A friend suggested we see the sun rise at New Smirna Beach. The alarm went off at 5am and we were driving east by 6am. Thankfully there is just one country road that winds the whole way. The sky gradually grew lighter as we drove through farm country. Fog settled into the low lying fields and glowed a rich yellow punctuated by stately palms. As the sky got brighter, I got nervous that we might miss the first sliver of sun light. A long gentle incline up a causeway bridge opened up our view to the horizon. The sun had not peaked out yet.

The streets near the beach were deserted. We found a parking spot in front of Flagler Tavern, and then scrambled to get lawn chairs and sketching supplies ready. Runners in pink were beginning to assemble and register for a race in the beach side park. As soon as we sat down in the beach chairs, the first sliver of sun poked out above clouds at the horizon. A couple embraced in front of us while others shot cell phone photos. I documented the moment with a quick digital painting. We took a selfie holding up the January 1st Orlando Sentinel as we squinted into the morning light .

We spent most of the day relaxing on the beach, watching sand pipers as they raced down to the surf’s edge and then back when the sliver of water rushed up onto the shore. They pecked incessantly, looking for tasty morsels just below the wet sand surface. Sea gulls would have angry aerial battles as they fought for crumbs of bread thrown up by tourists. Two seagulls became entangled in flight over a crumb, and they hit the hard sand with a thud. They shook it off and were back in flight in an instant to fight again. When the bread ran out they all stood on the mirror of wet sand looking stately and calm. They all faced the sun as if in deep Zen meditation.

A family strolled on the beach in front of us. The toddler was helping his dad by pushing the red wagon in the sand. His chubby legs moved with determination, he kept his head down watching every step. A heavy set bearded man stood and addressed the family. He was to far away for me to hear what he said. The teenage boy had on a wet suit and the man walked with him out into the waves. They spoke for a short while and then the boy held his nose. The man tipped him over backwards into an on coming wave. It was a baptism. Three others followed in quick succession followed by cheers from the onlooking family. A young girl who had bright neon red hair was dressed all in white. She gave the pastor a high five as she came back out of the surf. Another woman hugged him after screaming from the sudden plunge into the cold. The hug may have been affection, or a need for warmth.

Wynwood at Art Basel.

Posted on by Thor

Plans to go to Art Basel on Saturday were Shanghaied when I went to a gallery in New Smyrna Beach. I couldn’t sketch at this opening, so there isn’t much to report. I kept my hands in my pockets except when sipping a Coke or eating pretzels. Occasionally shrimp circulated around the room on a tray. The show consisted of small paintings competitively priced for the holidays.

I made the three-and-a-half hour drive down to Miami on Sunday instead. After parking in the Wynwood District I only had to walk one block before I saw a graffiti artist at work. This NYC artist was named Cortez. I couldn’t make out what the letters were in the tag, but now after the fact, I’m thinking it might be his name. I got lost sketching the tag, so don’t expect to read it in my sketch. It became an abstraction of bright colors, valves and shapes. The artist’s girlfriend videotaped me as I sketched, and I asked the artist to sign my sketch when I was done. Art tourists kept taking photos of the wall in progress. For some people, the only way to experience art is to photograph it.

I explored the Wynwood Walls and several galleries before heading over to the convention center, which is at the heart of Art Basel. Tickets to get in are like $45. I got there at the end of the day so paying for a few hours of browsing seemed like a waste. Instead I went to Ink, which consisted of galleries specializing in limited edition artists prints. Flying Horse Editions from UCF here in Orlando was on site. Each gallery had a quaint motel room surrounding a courtyard with a long central fountain. Since I am searching for a rental apartment, I desperately wanted to convert one of these small units into a studio.

I went to a public park near the convention center where sculptures we scattered in the grass. Long- legged camels walked above a shimmering mirage reflection. Jesus had open avocados on his head, shoulders and forearms. Perhaps he as actually the patron saint of avocados. A black hula hoop was plopped on top of a pile of road tar, and the crowning glory was a pile of six-foot-high brightly colored pebbles that looked like the cheery painted rocks you might find in a fish tank.

I stopped at Maxine’s on Collins Avenue for a bite to eat. It isn’t as good as the Maxine’s in Orlando, but I went in h honor. Afterwards I followed the long line of red taillights that inched towards I-95 to drive north into the night.