Wave Awards

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Terry found out about the Wave Awards ceremony happening at Mr. Sisters (5310 East Colonial Drive). I had never heard of the Wave Awards so when my class was over at 9pm I drove down to Colonial. Terry sent me a text saying parking was tight. I lucked out and found a parking spot right under the giant LED Mr. Sisters billboard. As I walked towards the club I saw Billy Manes, a journalist for the Orlando Weekly. He was carrying a plaque and he nodded to me. I seem to keep bumping into him at events around town lately. I later found out he had won an award as the favorite local writer/journalist. Inside, I said hello to Mack Dixon. He had been voted the greatest straight ally to the local LGBT community along with his wife Margo. Since I knew nothing about the awards ceremony, I asked him a few questions. The Wave Awards were awarded by Watermark, a local LGBT newspaper. There was a copy of the paper on each of the tables. I thumbed through one and it looked like a great resource for finding fun local events.

Terry and Amanda Chadwick were seated at a table out on the patio overlooking the lake. Every table had a black and white painting of a celebrity on it. I could see a large eyeball staring up at me, but I couldn’t make out the face hidden behind the ketchup, plates and glasses. Airport lights flickered on the horizon. A beautiful spot, but removed from the bustle and activity inside the club. Actually the place wasn’t that crowded. People were starting to leave. I grabbed a plate of crackers and cheese before it was put away. Mark Baratelli joined us. He was holding his award as the favorite local LGBT blog. His blog, thedailycity.com, also won third place as the favorite LGBT website.

Rather than focusing on the event as a whole, I decided to sketch Terry and Amanda as they had dinner in the gay club. Amanda shouted, “You’re not drawing me eating chicken wings, are you!?” I erased her arms. My sketching habit seems to be a burr in the saddle, an annoyance that people tolerate. Billy Sisco arrived and hugged Mark from behind. He showed Amanda his new Windows phone and started hammering it’s screen with a knife handle. As hard as he hit it, the darn thing didn’t break. I snagged a few of Terry’s fries but was happy enough with my root beer.

When it was time to go, Mark asked us all to pose for a celebratory photo in front of a green screen. Mark and Billy stayed behind wanting to celebrate much later into the night.

Sunday Piano Bar

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Amanda Chadwick invited Terry and myself to the Sunday afternoon Piano Bar at the Parliament House (41o North Orange Blossom Trail). Kelly DeWayne Richards plays every Sunday from 1:30pm until about 4:30pm. He has a huge selection of sheet music and invites audience members to come up and sing. There is an undeniable regular crowd. Most of the singers are exceptionally talented. We muscled up to the bar as our eyes adjusted to the dark room. Amanda ordered a chocolate martini and it looked so good I wanted one. From the bar stool I started sketching. Mark Baratelli enterd and everyone shouted “Mark” Cheers style. Kelly insisted Mark step up to the mic. As he got ready to sing, an audience member got up to go to the men’s room. Mark glowered at him like a diva and we all laughed. He began singing an over the top emotional rendition of “I’m Not Going” from Dream Girls. His emotional heaving breaths and despondent screams made his rendition hilarious. The crowd in the tiny room roared.

Even though I was still sketching, Kelly insisted I step up to the mic to sing “Hold 0n“. Kelly told the story of how I sang this at the surprise 20th anniversary party I threw for Terry. I pulled the lyrics up on my cell phone as the audience waited. With a weak internet connection, it seemed an eternity. I whispered into the mic, testing it, “This one goes out to Terry.” I missed a lyric or two but by the end I was feeling good, even the high notes were effortless. I looked at Terry then I saw people in the audience swaying and singing along. By the last refrain, the room was filled with harmony. When I finished, I assume there was polite applause. When I walked back to the bar, Terry threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. Mark shouted out, “Hey! Look everybody, straight people!” I laughed. One song isn’t a free pass. It is the first step on a long road.

While I was singing, some guy had taken my bar stool. I just stood next to him throwing down quick watercolor washes. He eventually left and I regained my seat. Terry got up and sang “Being Alive” from the Sondheim musical, Company. I was surprised how soft and vulnerable her voice was. We are both frightened moving forward challenging support and independence but very much alive. Amanda and I sang “Somewhere Out There.” We have had to sing it every time we are at the Sunday Piano Bar. Now that Matt Simantov, Amanda’s boyfriend, is living way out in Seattle, the song has taken on a special meaning for her.

Musical Mondays

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It was Kelly DeWayne Richard’s birthday. He celebrated by playing the piano at The Abbey for Musical Mondays. I couldn’t get off from work until 9pm. Terry went there around 7pm and I rushed to meet her. She was seated in a wide leather love seat in the front row. Kelly was singing a flamboyant version of the Piano Man. I sat down, the leather squeaking. Terry and I kissed and she snuggled against my chest asking me to put my arm around her since she was cold. I was hot having just walked many blocks from my parked truck. My eyes were busy composing a possible sketch. This wasn’t a great angle since I couldn’t see Kelly’s hands on the keyboard. I felt a bit like we had just made love and I was wondering how much longer I was expected to hold still. “Relax!” I thought to myself. “Enjoy the moment, you don’t always have to be sketching to be happy.”

She must have read my mind because after a while she said she was going home. She had waited several hours for me to arrive and that meant a lot to me. She knew I was itching to work. I moved to the next seat over. It was still a horrible vantage point. I ended up unfolding my artist stool and leaning against the wall. The lighting in the Abbey is magnificent. As soon as I started to sketch, Kelly took a break. It was my chance to hug him and wish him happy birthday. Chris Equality Leavy took his place at the Baby Grand piano. Chris sang a moving rendition of “My Way.” I sang along as did most of the people in the crowd. My heart warmed.

Later a female singer took to the stage. Kelly introduced her saying she had a wonderful voice. The mic was on the far side of the piano so I could only catch a glimpse of the top of her head and the thigh high black leather boots she wore. She sang “Someone Like You” by Adel. Her voice was astonishing. She truly sang the song with more heart and sincerity than the pop star. There was a skit on Saturday Night Live this week where women office workers played the song and they all cried together. A man entered and he cried, his mascara running. A janitor mopping the floor broke down and a window washer pressed his ear to the glass and bawled. The singer at the Abbey was Emily Heffelfinger. What a find! A true raw, heart warming talent.

The stage was soon full of cabaret singers who sang a moving patriotic medley. Voices were raised in perfect harmony. I spotted Andrea Canny, who waved. I sang along, my sketch now complete, swept along in the fervor. I basked in the warm glow of this vibrant artist community.

The Medium

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This is an illustration done for The Medium, an Opera written by Gian Carl Menotti. Florida Opera Theater is staging this opera in a private home here in Orlando several times this month. Terry and I used to attend the opera regularly. The Opera went bankrupt and closed shop several years ago. It is nice to see opera making its way back thanks to the grassroots efforts of Florida Opera Theater. Frank McClain is directing the production and I hope to sketch several rehearsals. Great art forms never die.

The opera is about a psychic medium, Madame Flora who is a fraud and drinks too much. She used her own daughter, Monica, to trick a woman into believing her is the woman’s dead child speaking from the other side. Flora took in a mute servant boy named Toby, but she is often enraged with him. Toby and Monica are attracted to each other, which becomes evident as they play a game of dress-up together. At a second seance, Flora seems to legitimately hear voices. The experience frightens her. She blames Toby and is infuriated that he doesn’t confess. As with many operas, there are tragic consequences. The fact that all the songs are in English makes the opera very accessible.

Besides the exclusive residential productions, the show will be staged at the Orlando Repertory Theater on December 3rd at 7:30pm and December 4th at 2:30pm. You can get tickets at floperatheater.org or call 407 718-4365.

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.

The French Quarter

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From our hotel in the Business District, Terry and I walked to the French Quarter in New Orleans. As soon as we crossed Canal Street we were shuttled back in time. Ornate wrought iron balconies over hung the street. The buildings were old with ancient histories. We walked past antiques shops and Terry started to feel the itch. She wanted to shop. We walked into an old shop that sold vintage muskets and pistols as well as rare coins. We had been here many years ago and Terry had bought an old Spanish piece of eight silver coin from the Atocha. She had to look at the treasure again. She asked a dealer to open a display case.

I heard music down the block. Musicians were performing in the street. Terry and I agreed that I could get a sketch while she shopped. I found a spot in the shade and sat down leaning back against a drainage pipe running down an old brownstone. The sidewalks were made from large slabs of slate. Slowly a large crowd formed listening to the music. They blocked my view so I looked up around them drawing the architecture. A woman walking in front of me collapsed in slow motion as a slate slab shifted under her feet. Her husband offered her his hand to help get her up. She refused but kept struggling to get her weight up. He grabbed her under her arm pit and pulled. She was fine, I kept sketching.

The trumpet player was thin and emaciated. He thrust his hips forward when he played arching his back as he belted out the notes. When the set was over, he came up to me to see what I was up to. He let me know that they would be playing later that evening a block away on Bourbon Street. He asked me how they sounded, and I thought they sounded great. I was still throwing down watercolor washes as the musicians packed up their instruments and left.

New Orleans Wedding

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On October 22nd, Shannon Marie OBrien and Andrew Julian Ranck were married in the Saint Louis Cathedral in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Terry and I arrived a bit early so I could start sketching the church interior before the service started. Terry was nervous that I would be asked to move since family usually is in the first two rows. Stubbornly I stood my ground since I knew my view could not be obstructed by someone sitting in front of me.

A lone trumpet player stood in the balcony and his notes echoed joy. The Trumpet Voluntary filled the cathedral and everyone stood and turned to watch the bride walk down the isle. The flower girl and ring bearer followed her. They were just toddlers and there were murmurs of adoring laughter. Andrew beamed as he watched Shannon approach. All the young female attendants filled the row in front of me.

It was a very traditional Catholic wedding with prayers and New Testament readings. Vows were exchanged and the rings blessed. High above, statues of Faith, Hope and Love looked down on the young couple. Saint Peter stood holding a key with his arm reaching out. Saint Paul stood on the right holding his sword. The ceiling was a swirl of activity as the apostles surrounded Jesus who radiated beams of light. As the couple signed their marriage license at a separate altar, Ave Maria wafted up echoing off the vaulted ceiling. The music made the moment truly feel divine. There was one final blessing and then Ode to Joy played as a recessional.

Before I knew it, I was alone again in an empty Cathedral. Marriages seem like such fast paced ceremonies when you are trying to sketch them. This flurry of activity would lead to a lifetime commitment.

A familiar face stood before me admiring the Cathedral’s architecture. It was Kevin Deters who worked at Disney Feature Animation in Florida at the same time I did. Kevin is now working for Disney in LA and he has directed several shorts one being “Prep & Landing” for the Company. He let me know they are working on another Prep & Landing short now. What a wild, small world. I gave him my card and explained the blog and the work I do to pass along the animation tradition at Full Sail. Kevin let me know that he has now worked longer in the LA studio than he did in Florida. I admire what he has accomplished. I wonder if he came to New Orleans when Disney premiered “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” That was an amazing party.

The priest walked up to me as I sat alone finishing my sketch. I was sure I was about to get kicked out. On the contrary, he loved the sketch and joked with me that usually the pencil snaps if someone tries to sketch him. There was another wedding happening in half an hour and he encouraged me to go right on sketching. I was getting close to finishing however, and I decided to leave as the church was emptied for the next wedding

Mennello Museum Mural Unveiling

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So many things had to fall into place for the Unveiling of the mural. I ran to Sky Craft to get 80 alligator clips which would hang the original sketches done of each person in the line. I also managed to forget the power cord to my tablet PC in the classroom at Full Sail. I drove over there and thankfully Nina had the keys to get me into the room. I was a sweaty mess after running all over town but I arrived at the museum an hour earlier than expected. This gave me plenty of time to set up. I borrowed a folding table from the museum’s garage and set it up under the tent I had used as shelter from the sweltering sun the entire time I worked on the mural. I hung many of the original studies, clothes line style on the iron gates around the museum. Kim Robinson let me borrow some nice folding walls on which I hung a dozen more sketches.

I set up a printer and the tablet so I could make prints for people on demand. Anyone who posed for the mural could get a free print of the sketch done of them. The originals were all on sale for $50 each. I made a few prints of the whole line as well. As I was finishing getting everything in place, Terry arrived to help out. She assisted me as I duct taped down electrical cords so no one would trip. It was a cloudless beautiful day in the low 80’s. I couldn’t have asked for a more picture perfect night.

When everything was in place, I started the sketch. The first people to arrive were volunteers for the museum. I sketched them quickly in front of the mural. Soon there was a steady stream of people and I explained over and over again how the idea of the mural had been generated. Genevieve Bernard and I visited a high school art class in Narcoossee and asked the students what they felt defined Orlando. One girl said she was always standing in long lines when she went to clubs downtown. We spent the rest of the class discussing who stands in lines and why. A Facebook event page invited people to come to the museum to be drawn in the line. Over 64 people from all walks of life came to be sketched. At the unveiling many of the people who modeled returned wearing the same clothes they posed in. It was fun taking pictures with the models next to their depiction on the wall. All the photos made the mural an interactive experience. The evening was a whirlwind as I made prints, finalized sales and socialized non-stop.

The B52’s at the Amway Center

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It had been raining all day. I was putting finishing touches on an illustration for the Orlando Opera Theater Company when I got a text from Rick & Terry Loewen, “Free concert. B52’s.” I wrote back, “Your kidding! Now?”. “Amway Center let them move the concert indoors. You guys need to come. We will save u seats.” Terry was with Amanda watching “Ides of March.” I texted her to let her know about the free concert. I was going to see the movie with them but I ended up driving to the wrong movie theater. When the movie was over (they didn’t like it) Terry called and agreed to pick me up and rush over to the concert. The warm up band, Logan Belle, was just getting started.

We drove downtown in the pouring rain. Terry couldn’t see the lines on the road and she kept slowing down. She took a wrong turn and we got lost on side streets. She missed a second turn to the road that lead to her office where we planned to use the parking garage. She did a U turn on Orange Blossom Trail and relocated the street. When we parked I fired off another text letting Rick and Terry know we were on foot. She let me know they were seated behind an orange Hooters table. When Terry and I stepped out into the deluge we heard a Train horn blast. There were train tracks between the parking garage and the Amway Center. We jogged towards the tracks. The barriers hadn’t dropped yet. As we ran across the tracks the horn blasted again and we were blinded by the locomotive’s light.

When we entered the Amway Center Terry had her purse checked. My sketchbook was tucked in my belt like a pistol. My pallet was in my rain jacket pocket. I wasn’t frisked. My artists contraband made it through security. We asked several people where the Hooters table was and we were told we needed a wrist band. When we asked about a wrist band we were told we didn’t need one. VIP’s had seating on the floor for $150.We took an escalator to the second level then walked down to the floor. The place wasn’t crowded. Half the VIP seats were empty. Rick and Terry waved to us and we grabbed our seats in the third row.

I started sketching as the B52’s took to the stage. Our seats were on makeshift aluminum bleachers. Everyone was dancing and jumping up and down to the music. The bleachers rocked and swayed. I relaxed and let my lines flow with the turmoil. Terry shouted at a lady to sit down in front of us. Many of the early songs I didn’t recognize. When the band began playing “Love Shack!” I knew my sketch was done. Terry and I agree that this is our song. We danced and shouted out the lyrics. I grabbed Terry by the waste and we bumped hips to the beat. I can check this item off my life list. I believe everyone should hear “Love Shack” performed live at least once in a lifetime. On the floor of the Center everyone continued to dance to “Rock Lobster“.

Apple Store Line

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Terry suggested I go to the Millenia Mall to see if there was a line of people waiting for the latest iPhone release. I don’t go to the mall very often so this was an adventure. I had been to the store before and I swore it was on the second floor. I walked the full length of the mall and had to double back. It was actually on the first floor and I had walked over it in the first five minutes of my quest. I decided to stay on the second floor and look down at the long steady line of people waiting. A brick of a security guard stood by, should any riots break out.

It was less than a week since Steve Jobs died. A storefront window was turned into a shrine. There were flowers and a small box of candy at the store’s display window. Colorful stickie notes covered the glass with short notes like: “Keep thinking different.” “RIP Steve, the world loves apples.” “iCame, iSaw, iMiss you.” As I sketched, two former students stopped to say hello. I asked Phil if he was here to get an iPhone. “Are you kidding? Those things cost like $400. I have a student loan to pay off!”, he said. My old iPhone is working just fine. I will not upgrade unless the glass breaks or I drown it. The new iPhone apparently has loads of new features but I just need a phone that works, and sometimes I feel a little too connected. Most people I draw have their eyes plastered to that tiny screen. I want my eyes to keep taking in the bigger picture.

In 1984 Steve introduced the world to a new form of computer. I desperately wanted one of these early Macintosh’s. Terry had a contest going at her new job at Shearson Lehman Hutton. If she brought in enough clients through cold calls, she could win a Macintosh. She worked incredibly hard in part because she knew I lusted for that machine. She got it. I used that tiny Mac to design a whole book, which I self published. I knew this new digital age would change everything. I still have that old tiny Mac. I brought it to Full Sail in Steve Jobs honor the day after he died. I plugged it in and the machine hummed to life sounding like a 747 after 20 years of hot storage in our garage. Terry and I have worked together to bring our dreams to life. Today is our 20th wedding anniversary. It was my dreams that brought us to Central Florida. Dreams change, but my hope for an ever brighter future never dies. “Maybe all the plans we made would not work out, but I have no doubt, even though it’s hard to see. I’ve got faith in us and I believe in you and me.“