iDignity Fundraiser at Ember

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Terry told me about the iDignity fundraiser at Ember. Admission to the fundraising event was $15 which is apparently how much it costs to acquire one Florida ID. I was instructed to slip my drivers license into the lanyard I was given to wear around my neck. Everyone in the room wore their IDs with pride. I sport a full head of hair on my drivers license photo but no one noticed. I found Terry at the end of the bar. She was working the event hoping to find some promising leads. I took the seat next to her and started to sketch.

I had been introduced to the charitable work of iDinity once before by Hannah Miller. They get IDs for the underprivileged. Without an ID it is impossible to get a job so this is the first step in empowering someone. I have seen that crowds of people show up when the IDs are being processed. I hope to get out to sketch the process soon.

The woman next to Terry was talking about how she had once tried out to be a Magic dancer. She didn’t approve of the process and she dropped out. The Magic were playing the New York Knicks that night. It was a home game, so there was a crowd at the Amway Center a few blocks away. After a beer and tasting the food, Terry and I decided to leave early to avoid the mad traffic congestion that would happen when the game let out.

Mediterranean Deli

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If there is one thing I love, it is a juicy Gyro or stuffed grape leaves and a salad with feta cheese. The Mediteranian deli (981 West Fairbanks Avenue in Winter Park) is a true New York City style hole in the wall. It doesn’t look like much from the street being a tiny store front in a small strip mall just West of I-4 on Fairbanks. At the order counter there are hundreds of business cards shoved in a slot in front of the mouth watering salads and sides. I couldn’t resist. I pulled out an Analog Artist Digital World card and slipped it in. The owner is very friendly often asking about friends and family while offering up a free sample as I wait. I decided I would eat light for once, maybe some humus and pita. But after tasting the club wrap I ordered the club with a side of humus. I have had the gyros before and they are amazing, stuffed so full that you have to wrestle it into your mouth. Mediterranean music is playing constantly tempting the occasional amateur belly dance. Posters from Greece try to catch some Mediterranean warmth. A sign announces, “Americas #1 Gyros” and I do believe these are the best gyros in Orlando. I stop by anytime I am on or near Fairbanks Avenue. There can be a line during the lunch time rush since anyone who has been here always returns.

Buzzcatz

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On Saturday, Terry and I went to the 5th Annual Baldwin Park Art & Jazz Festival. The festival looked very much like every other festival I have been to in Baldwin Park. Vendors arts and crafts tents were lined up down the length of New Broad Street. There are always a wide assortment of dogs being walked in this Celebration like “Leave it to Beaver” neighborhood. Our first order of business was to find some lunch. We decided to eat at La Bella Luna which was an Italian Restaurant and Pizzeria. Terry ordered a chicken Caesar salad and I ordered Lasagna. The chicken in Terry’s salad was dry, overcooked and she couldn’t eat it. My lasagna was tasteless except for the excessively salty sauce. I however can eat anything, although my stomach sometimes complains. The waiter asked how everything was and he got an earful from Terry. She said she was doing him a favor since the restaurant wouldn’t be around for long if this is what then were passing off as food. He would be better off finding a better restaurant to work in.

After lunch we ran into Hal Stringer who was displaying his colorful paintings. He relaxed in the shade of a tree and watched as people examined his bold landscape paintings. He applies the paint thickly with a pallet knife. My favorite painting was an abstract that resembled liquid fire. Hal pointed out the program to us and told us where the two stages were set up. Terry and I wandered to the end of the streets and were drawn to the music of the Buzzcatz. Terry and I spotted Carol Stein, a wonderful pianist, song writer and composer. She grabbed a table and I sat down to sketch. While I worked, Terry decided to shop and explore the arts and crafts tents. Carol and I ordered margaritas. Carol said, “These people don’t realize the world class caliber of musical talent they are listening to!” I had seen the guitarist on the left, Bobby Koeble, at a Rollins College Faculty showcase concert and he amazed me. The classic jazz, motown and rat pack era music kept the audience swaying. Several couples started to swing dance while children ran in circles on a patch of lawn. Behind the band people relaxed in the grass looking out over Lake Baldwin.

Porch Dogs

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Sunday was Terry’s day. She decided she wanted to go to Big Fin Seafood Restaurant (8046 Via Dellagio Way) for a Cajun Brunch. She knew there was going to be a Cajun Band playing and she reserved a table right up front next to the band. She ordered eggs Benedict and I ordered an egg in a basket which is an egg nestled inside of some French toast. My egg was under cooked for my taste but hers were delicious. We both ordered mimosas as well. While we ate I continued to sketch, figuring most sets don’t last long. The Porch Dogs played their blend of Cajun Zydeco tirelessly. Terry was invited up to sing “The Battle of New Orleans” and play the washboard with some spoons. Amazingly she knew all the words. Half way into the sketch I ordered a Mojito and it was tangy, sweet and strong, just the way I like them. As I was finishing a second Mojito the sketch was nearing completion. The lead singer, Antonio Bolet shouted out, “Looks like we have a serious artist in the audience! Let me see what you been doing.” I lifted up the sketch to show the band members. He then suggested I hold the sketch up for folks at the bar, which I did. The waitress came around and offered another round of drinks saying, “It looks like you do your best work with Mojitos!” Later he asked me for my card saying he would love for me to work on a cd case cover.

During another set Terry and I danced around the bar area practicing our Cajun moves. We have been to a few Cajun concerts and picked up the basics along the way. Terry whispered to me, “Every woman in this bar is jealous right now since their husbands don’t want to dance.” A few couples in the back of the bar also started busting some moves. We ended up staying in the outdoor porch area for over five hours listening to music and relaxing. This was our first time stopping into thus new development of restaurants that cropped up on Sand Lake Road in the last year. I am glad we did and I am sure we will return again son.

Emotions Dance Fundraiser

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Terry had tickets to attend the Emotions Dance Fundraiser at Urban ReThink (625 E. Central Blvd). I got to the venue early since I drove straight over from Full Sail. Terry was having drinks with coworkers so she would arrive later. I was hoping I might catch the dancers warming up or rehearsing. As I walked through Thornton Park I recognized a couple of the dancers dressed in nice gowns as they entered a woman’s clothing store to shop. When I entered Urban ReThink, I immediately said hello to Larissa Humiston who is the founder of Emotions Dance. She was excited and nervous not having any idea how many people might show up. Tisse Mallon was helping by draping fabrics here and there. Tisse had some really sexy photos of Emotions dancers in the silent auction area. The photos were taken in Wekiva Springs and each shot featured an Emotions dancer floating semi nude in a stream with delicate fabrics flowing off of them. Dina Mack showed me around the new space. She had this wonderful fundraising idea where people could buy a piece of ribbon for $5 and that ribbon would be tied in with all the other ribbons into a continually growing mosaic symbolizing the interconnected nature of the community.

The band, The Forefathers, were setting up on the upstairs balcony. I decided to go upstairs. I stood overlooking the railing to do my first sketch. Dancers were grabbing a bite to eat before people started arriving. As people arrived, I included them in the sketch. The old Urban Think Bookstore logo was still boldly painted on the floor. Amanda Chadwick arrived and I interrupted my sketch to go downstairs and give her a hug. When Terry arrived, they talked for the longest time while I sketched. When I finished my first sketch I texted Terry to let her know I would have to wait till The Forefathers finished their set since I couldn’t get to the stairs through all the band equipment. I started sketching the band. Downstairs the Emotions Dancers improvised to the music.

Terry managed to win two raffle prize items. When I finally got back downstairs, Tod Caviness was reciting some of his poetry. Kristy Six listened from one of the couches intently. Terry and Amanda had gone for a walk outside and I suspected they would be back soon so I sat quietly and simply listened and enjoyed. The festivities were far from over, but Amanda wanted to go to SAK Comedy Lab to talk to Denna Beena who works there. Outside we briefly bumped into Brian Feldman and Sultana Ali who was going to drive him home. It seems Brian’s performance piece, “The Skill Crane Kid” has found a permanent home in the SAK Comedy Lab. In his hand, Brian held out the Florida Fellowship Grant check he had been waiting for. They had plenty to celebrate that night as they hugged to stay warm. Terry, Amanda and I went upstairs and gossiped with Denna. Amanda seems to always play the roll of peacemaker among friends who just don’t get along. Denna and Amanda were going to Bananas after SAK closed but Terry wanted to get home to our pet cockatoo so we went home.

The Skill Crane Kid

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As part of ArtsFest, Brian Feldman purchased a skill crane machine, stuffed it full of plush toys and then crawled inside where he remained for 16 hours. The machine was set up in Stardust Video and Coffee. When I arrived with Terry, Brian had already been inside for over six hours. Children especially loved the performance, often begging their parents for more change so they could try the skill crane again. Some people took pleasure in dropping the metallic skill crane claws on Brian’s head. For me the performance once again had a Kafkaesque quality reminding me of the Hunger Artist. Brian’s presence also reminded me of carnival barkers at the fair whose main objective is to keep the rubes from winning a prize. Brian acted as a sort of anti-carnie, actually placing a plush toy in the claws of the feeble skill crane to satiate each child’s greed and desire.

I seldom had an unobstructed view of the skill crane. More often than not families blocked my view as they took pictures and stuffed quarters in the machine. A friend of Brian’s named Helen Henny was shooting photos the whole time I was sketching. Sultana Ali, Brian’s girlfriend, was in the next room and she seemed to be updating Brian’s Twitter and Facebook accounts as the performance progressed. I heard the performance was streamed live. Terry and Sultana had lunch while I sketched. Several hours later when the sketch was finished, I walked up to the skill crane to say goodbye to Brian. He gestured from inside saying I had to try my hand at the skill crane. I refused, until Terry lent me the dollar to play. Several people in the room egged me on so I gave in and decided to play. I maneuvered the crane over a small teddy bear right near the exit chute of the machine figuring that if the crane didn’t grab the bear, it might just get knocked loose. I really didn’t need a teddy bear, and I didn’t want to play the game, but once the machine took the money, then the stakes were high. I had two tries and both times the poorly designed claw picked up nothing but air. With this failure I suddenly realized I was upset, not at the machine but at Brian. I had seen him coax the toys into the claw for child after child as I sketched. He even coaxed a toy out for Genevieve Bernard. Everyone was a winner but me! His passivity as I played made him just like any loud mouthed carnival barker who coaxed money from people at the fair using insults and dark sinister humor. I felt robbed.

As a child I once dreamed of getting a huge balloon that was for sale on an ice cream truck that wandered my neighborhood. Inflated, the balloon was larger than me . By the time I had convinced my mom to give me the change needed, the truck was long gone. I ran down the street for many blocks before finally giving up. I was devastated. The next day the balloon was forgotten. I had new obsessions. The night after Brian exited the skill crane, I met him in Stardust video and coffee to get my video camera back which had recorded most of his performance. Brian took me out to Sultana’s truck and presented me with the palm sized bear I had tried to win. I refused at first, but he insisted. At home my pet cockatoo was scared of the little stuffed bear at first, his crest rose in surprise, but then he ripped out its eyes and eviscerated its stomach playfully.

Shipyard Emporium

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Shipyard Brewery just opened up January 28th in Winter Park (200 Fairbanks Avenue). I knew about the opening night, but was unable to attend. I was told over twenty five hundreds people were there opening night. What a mob scene that must have been!

A few days after the Grand opening I was going to a free concert at Rollins College. Walking down Fairbanks, I couldn’t resist going inside the brewery to see how everything came together. The young man at the door explained the layout to me. The place is part Deli and gourmet grocery store then there is seating for the restaurant. Finally there is the bar which overlooks the micro brewery where specialty beers are made by brewmaster Ron Raike daily. I sat at the bar and looked at the description s of the wide variety of beers. I decided to try the Alligator Braggot. I was given a small sample to taste and I loved it. It turned out that Ron had just finished brewing this new brew that morning. above the bar there were many rows of blue mugs hanging from the ceiling. They belong to people who joined the mug club. Each time they return they are served their favorite brew in their own personal mug.

I decided to order a grilled Portobello sandwich with zucchini, roasted peppers, herb goat cheese all on a toasted ciabatta. Along with a second beer, the sandwich was fabulous. Seriously this was culinary heaven. Allison Stevens tapped me on the shoulder to say hello. She is responsible for all the back breaking work that helped make this brewery a realty. She offered me a hot chicken wing dip along with pita chips to scoop it up.The dip was hotter than I am used to, but it had the advantage of making me want to sip more beer.

The owner of Shipyard Brewery, Fred Forsley, had flown down from Maine and he was with a video cameraman shooting footage. By the time I left to walk the rest of the way to Rollins College, I was feeling great. Shipyard Brewery offers delicious food, great beer and a chance to talk to the master brewer himself. I know I will find many reasons to return.

Heat Grand Opening

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Terry and I went to the grand opening of a new club downtown called Heat (55 West Church Street) which offers signature cocktails, tapas and live entertainment. The press preview began at 6pm and the general public was invited starting at 10pm. I had come directly from the Scottish Highland games so I was in jeans and a sweatshirt. It became painfully obvious that I was under dressed as soon as I saw some women regally stepping out of a Mercedes with elegant sequined gowns. Terry was dresses better than me but even she felt under dressed. The bouncer at the velvet rope could not find my name on the list but he could not deny that I had an invitation inside the gold envelope sealed elegantly with wax.

When we stepped inside we were greeted by a phalanx of leggy young women all in tight black skirts who welcomed us and offered free champagne. The wall behind them was brightly illuminated red and I considered sketching but I felt I should look around first. I turned down the offer of champagne but Terry decided to indulge. The interior was lit Vegas style and behind the bar a jazz group assembled to perform. I was reminded of the Cantina scene in the original Star Wars. This place was elegant rather than ominous. Within a minute of starting my first sketch a woman pushed up beside me to see what I was doing. I explained that there wasn’t much to see yet at this point. Soon the bar was packed and I was being shoved by groups of people who were posing for photos. When I was getting shoved from behind by people reaching for drinks, I gave up on the sketch and found a quieter spot away from the bar. Terry was at a table so I joined her there. We were told the table was reserved so I never sat down. I leaned against a wall and tried valiantly to save my first sketch. The woman who spoke to me at the bar checked back a second time to see my progress. I was bristling, annoyed at the interruptions but I graciously showed her what I was up to.

Terry and I moved outside where space heaters kept patrons comfortable as they lounged on wicker chairs. Mark Baratelli and Terry struck up a conversation as I worked on my second sketch. Every time Terry went to the bar, someone would approach me and ask to see the sketch I was working on. One woman said we had met before and she asked if I remembered a Valentines party. I didn’t remember sketching any Valentines party and just as I said this Terry walked up. The woman disappeared. Terry seemed to think I was being hit on. That seemed impossible since I was grubby with a half grown beard and jeans on. Every other man at this place was quite honestly, handsome compared to me. They had tailored Italian suits on and perfectly gelled hair. With my hiking boots and jeans I must have looked very out of place.

Terry was having a grand time people watching. Four women sat at the table next to us deep in conversation. The redhead had an intense gaze which cut through the loud ambient noise of the club. Terry seemed convinced that these woman in the backs of their minds were wondering why men were not hitting on them. To me they just seemed to be enjoying each others company. The woman who had asked me about Valentines day stumbled into the man she was talking to. The high heels might have caught her off guard. The crowd was quite diverse with twenty somethings standing elbow to elbow with women who were noticeably older than me. I loved sketching here where I could observe people up close in a crowded setting where I remained mostly unnoticed. I was glad that Terry was having as much fun as me soaking in the setting. By 10pm there was a long line of people waiting to get past the velvet rope.

22 Sandwiches

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Terry and I planned to go out Sunday afternoon to watch a football game at a bar. Before we did we went to visit Mary Hill at her mothers home in Winter Park. I had not gone to the reception after Margaret Hills funeral. Instead I rushed home and started to write. This was the first time Terry had visited Mary at her mom’s house. When we arrived Mary offered us drinks and sandwiches. Mary’s neighbor Phyllis Miller was there and she used a portable grill she had bought from home to toast our sandwiches so they were nice and crunchy like Panini’s. This was the first time Terry really had time to get to know Mary and they really hit it off. Mary’s friend Elizabeth Cohen showed up soon afterward. Terry and Elizabeth had many things in common for instance they had both lived in Israel for a while so they were like two peas in a pod.

After Phyllis left, Elizabeth and Mary started a sandwich production line. Elizabeth smeared on some mayo and then Mary put on cold cuts and cheese. Mary had so many leftovers from the funeral that she wanted to make sandwiches and hand them out at Lake Eola, in her mother’s memory. I warned Mary that there was a law on the books that said no one could feed more than 25 people in a public park in Orlando. In all they made 22 sandwiches. Terry was touched by this generosity and at first she wanted to go to Lake Eola to help hand out the sandwiches. Then Elizabeth got a call and realized that she had totally forgotten about a social engagement she had made. After Elizabeth left, Terry decided we should go with our original plan and we soon left to see a playoff football game downtown at Wild Side. Mary packed all the sandwiches into a fabric reusable grocery bag.

After Terry and I left for the bar Mary headed down to Lake Eola. The bar was really crowded but we muscled our way into a room with a large wide screen TV. I can’t really relate the details of the game because quite honestly I wasn’t paying much attention. I do believe the Packers won because I like the bright colors on their uniform and there was plenty of cheering whenever the bright green jerseys ran into the end zone. It was towards the end of the game that I got a text from Mary saying she had finished handing out the sandwiches.

Later I learned from Mary that this simple act of generosity was moving on so many levels. Everyone she approached was honesty thankful. One woman related that it was impossible to find food on a Sunday. She approached one group of 3 men and had two sandwiches in her hands. Two of the men stood side by side and the third was a few steps further down the trail. When Mary asked if they would like some sandwiches the first two men of course accepted her offering. The third had trouble walking and he hobbled closer. The man standing closest to Mary looked at his sandwich and then at the man hobbling closer to him. He paused and thought to himself before he decided to give the struggling man his sandwich. He looked down afterwards certain he must have made a mistake since he might have to go hungry that night. After a moments pause the man finally looked up at Mary. Luckily she had another sandwich in her bag and he was truly grateful. Mary was moved close to tears by his act of selfless giving on his part.

Mary had not had the chance to relate to anyone why she was handing out sandwiches at Lake Eola. When she handed out the last sandwich in her bag, the man thanked her saying, “You must be an angel, I was just standing here thinking to myself that I was an idiot for missing the food line earlier today and I would have to go hungry tonight. Then here you are handing me a sandwich!” He asked why she was here alone handing out sandwiches and she was able to relate her story of the leftovers after her mothers funeral. She said her mother was a generous person and she was giving away the sandwiches in her honor. The man said, “Your mother is still teaching you lessons isn’t she?” “Yes, she certainly is and I’m sure she will for many years to come.” Mary said.

Vanilla Dream

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After attending a funeral, I had time to kill before getting to Stardust to see Doug Rhodehamel’s “Sea of Green” exhibit. I had a note that another exhibit titled Connected by Jason Lee was happening at Rhapsodic Bakery (710 North Mills Avenue.) The five paintings shown in this sketch were the extent of the work being displayed at Rhapsodic. Prices ranged from $500 to $800 dollars. I had seen Jason’s work once before at the Peacock Room. The work is surreal and fanciful often involving images of the cosmos. Since I had well over an hour to kill, I walked up to the young girl behind the counter and tried to decide on a tasty treat for myself. I settled on the Vanilla Dream cupcake mostly because I liked how it sounded. She chimed in that the Vanilla Dream was her favorite as well.

After I settled in and started sketching she started to cut up hundreds of thin slips of paper using a tiny cutting board. Each slip had to be cut separately. she had to have been working for well over an hour cutting those slips of paper never once noticing that I was sketching her. When my sketch was finished the bakery had started to get busy and more customers were coming in. I asked her what all the slips of paper were for and she explained that they were for labeling orders of baked goods that were sent out to customers. I can say with no doubt that the Vanilla Dream that I ate was delicious. Washed down with a sparkling apple juice it was a perfect afternoon snack. I felt comfortable sitting and sketching away the hours and I noticed other customers come in with laptops which they flipped open so they could pass the time.

As I walked back to my truck I noticed an open door of one of the nearby Vietnamese shops. Inside Vietnamese men were sitting at card tables playing what I presumed to be poker. Behind the card tables were several pool tables. It should make for a great sketch, assuming I am welcome. That will have to wait for another day.