Tiberius Rex and Pixie Duste

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Terry met me at Stardust Video & Coffee for Dustoberfest. The place was quiet and I had finished my first sketch. I warned Terry that Dustoberfest wasn’t exactly a wild party. She had gotten dressed and insisted on stopping by. The food was actually really good. I ordered a Kielbasa with sauerkraut which came with an egg sunny side up and mashed potatoes. Washed down with a Hofbrau beer in a tall beer stein it was the perfect German meal.

When Terry arrived she got in line to order some food as well. In line she met Tiberius Rex and Pixie Duste who ordered before her. Instinctively she knew I couldn’t resist sketching a vampire. She sent them over to my table. Tiberius introduced himself asking if I was the artist. I asked them to sit across from me and immediately started sketching. Tiberius’s eyes were white with a black line surrounding the iris. It gave his gaze an unnerving snake like quality. He was the most amicable vampire I’ve ever met and he smiled so I could sketch his fangs. He was very proud of their gentle inward curvature. I admired his casket ring and magnificent snake’s head walking stick.

Pixie Duste was far more demure. Her shock of jet black hair covered her eyes and her welders glasses had bold red Xs over the lenses. As I sketched her, Tiberius did a jig with his shoulders to the music keeping her amused. They were an adorable goth couple. When the sketch was done, Tiberius said, “Look, we truly are immortal now!” he laughed and gently kissed Pixie Duste. Pixie Duste unwrapped her blood red Tootsie pop and sucked on it. They reminded me of Terry and myself when we were first dating.

It was a crisp chilly October and we went to a Pumpkin Festival a few miles up the Hudson River from New York City. I was sketching the crew of the Clearwater, a Dutch Sloop and environmental group founded by folk singer Pete Seeger. The sloop still sails the Hudson River teaching children about life in the river. The Clearwater hosted a pumpkin sail every October sailing down river and selling pumpkins off town docks. Children crawled among the pumpkins playing and trying to pick the perfect pumpkin. Terry met me for this Pumpkin Festival and we spent a wonderful day together volunteering. For the first and only time in my life I painted a few children’s faces. That evening there was a square dance and we danced the night away. We were infectiously in love and one woman actually asked Terry to tone down her “public displays of affection.” I’m glad Terry laughed off the request, we kissed and hugged each other with abandon. Who cared what other people thought!

County Morgue Make Up

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We found a table at Antonio’s across the street from Stardust. I ordered a pesto pasta dish that had absolutely no flavor. The place was getting packed. I sat across from Terry facing a wall. A table behind me filled up with zombies. I didn’t know zombies ate spaghetti. Perhaps it wasn’t spagetti hanging out of their bloody mouths. It might be veins or the flesh of the living. After our disappointing meal we walked out into the night. The undead were everywhere. A group of zombies stood outside the liquor store but the proprietor wouldn’t let them in. The undead had to recruit the living to buy alcohol.

The corner of Corrine and Winter Park had three gas stations which separated and illuminated three large gatherings of zombies. The parking lot outside Park Avenue CD’s had food trucks and two stages where the undead could perform music. Terry stopped to pet a living dog and I hunted for a spot to sketch. I settled on the County Morgue Make Up tent. For $15 people could get a scar or deathly make up. I focused most of my attention on the make up artist with the Mohawk. He carefully crafted a deep gash into a woman’s cheek. She was delighted when she saw how horrifying she looked. Wendy Wallenburg who lives in the neighborhood had no idea what was going on. Some zombie’s car was blocking her driveway and she was suddenly surrounded by the undead. Terry and Wendy wandered while I sketched.

Halfway into this sketch, I realized I should be getting the undead to pose for quick sketches. Terry could wrangle the subjects and I could crowd the undead together into a single sketch. Terry lost patience with me and went home. I considered getting one more sketch but I felt defeated and left. I had to get home before all hell broke loose.

Masters of Mixology

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Terry told me about a bartender’s competition happening at Crave (4158 Conroy Road, next to Mall at Millenia). We agreed to meet there after work. I arrived first and found a spot next to the DJ where I overlooked the competition staging area. I started blocking in my sketch before the competition got started. Terry arrived and let me know that drinks were free for the first hour. Since I didn’t have any place to put a drink down, I decided to go dry. Terry asked why I wasn’t holding a drink and I explained, “It’s a waste of a perfectly good hand.” She let me sip a light blue concoction she was holding and it tasted like coconut. Yum… No, keep sketching.

Two beautiful women walked the room dressed as, perhaps wedding cakes or blue fairy princesses. They had glittering tiaras on their heads and carried platters with samples and a liquor bottle. The blonde woman gushed over my drawing when she saw it. My eyes darted about. I was too flustered to ask her what she was selling. Some journalist I turned out to be.

Ralph, the general manager at Crave, officiated the event. Colleen Burns from Yelp was one of the judges. I had seen her the day before at a Yelp Culture Club kickoff event the night before. The other judges were Sven and Olie. I envied their job of tasting unique drinks all night. The six bartenders were competing for a trip to Crave in Miami. The contestants were, Jake Berenson, Rob DeGiouine, Michelle Mariani, Aaron Christianson, Sarah Kaylor and Ashley Morin. In the first round the bartender working closest to me lined the martini glasses with streaks of chocolate. He was the first bartender to finish. The judges conferred and the contestants stood at their stations waiting for the results. The tension could be felt over the loud din of all the people shouting over the music at the bar. Jake was the top contender with 158 points. The top three bartenders moved on to the next round.

Terry had already left as soon as the free drinks stopped, which was before the first round of judging. When I finished the sketch, I realized I hadn’t been great company for Terry. I opted not to do a second sketch. As I walked out, I asked Colleen to let me know who the winner was the following day. “The winner was Jake Bereson from Ember! He beat out Michelle Mariani by 1 point.”, she wrote. I want to find out how to become a judge for drink tasting. I have some refined taste buds that are highly under utilized. As I walked alone through the rain to my truck, I realized I was thirsty.

Framing Your Fear

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I went to the world premiere of “The Pink Ribbon Project.” Terry volunteered to help sell tickets and wine. I ordered a cup of white wine from her and then wandered to draw. A large canvas was set up in a side room where audience members were invited to consider the following question… “What am I, or what have I been afraid of.” Thick permanent markers were on the floor under the canvas. I wrote on the canvas twice, writing, “I am afraid of loosing the ones I love, and, Mortality.”

Cole Nesmith, the show’s creative consultant, devised this canvas of fears. He was one of the first to write something, scrawling out, “Judgement.” I sat in a dark corner of the room and started to sketch. People had a tough time reading the directions on the back of the program. They hunched over trying to illuminate the pink lettering on the black page using the lone spotlight. The first people were nervous and joked about their fears rather than facing them. A woman wrote “Spiders” and got a laugh from the rest of her family. Then a breast cancer survivor walked up and wrote, “I fear my cancer might return.” The idea of the interactive piece was to confront fears, expose them, so that they could be overcome.

It was a sold out house. Terry told me to go back to my truck and get my artist’s stool, I might need it. Volunteers were seated after everyone else. I tried to find two seats together but there were none. I found a seat for Terry and then was prepared to sit on the sidelines. Then I noticed one seat open in the front row. I asked the lovely lady from Eden Spa if the seat was available and it was. I couldn’t believe my luck, front row! Aradhana Tiwari the director, introduced the show and she gave a bouquet of flowers to the woman from Eden Spa. I was seated next to a VIP.

The entire cast jogged onto stage in bright pink t-shirts, moving to “Walk this Way.” They stretched and posed for photos. It was a scene typical of a breast cancer awareness walk or 5k. It was an energetic and humorous way to begin the show. Lindsay Cohen gave a monologue about her mom. When she found out her mom had breast cancer, she rushed to her. She leaped into her mother’s arms, sobbing. Ironically her mom had to comfort her. “Your father’s an ass man anyway.” Laughter turned to tears.

Marty Stonerock’s monologue hit closest to home. She was seven when she lost her mom. Having her mother die was her “brand” growing up. When introduced to a new class, she was the girl whose mother died when she was little. At pity parties it was an ace in the hole. A grainy black and white photo showed her dad along with the kids. Her mother stood in the background leaning against a chair. She was bleached out by the bright window behind her, a ghost of herself. “This is her post mastectomy.” Marty said. Why didn’t she write a letter? The type of letter that could explain everything.” Like Marty, as a child, I felt abandoned without warning. I was mad as hell.

My mom knew she was going to die when her breast cancer spread to her lymph nodes and then her liver. We hoped they would find a liver transplant that never came. She had six children and she knew Arthur, her husband, wasn’t emotionally going to be able to raise them himself. From her hospital bed, she told her lifelong friend, Joyce, to introduce him to Ruth when she died. Ruth, who went to the same church as my mom, had just lost her husband to cancer. She knew Ruth would make a good mother. Sure enough nine months after she died, Art and Ruth were married. What kind of strength and sacrifice was involved to imagine and hope that the love of her life would find a new love after she died, and to play matchmaker from her death bed? I didn’t know this about my mother growing up. I learned it many years later when I interviewed Joyce. My mothers heart held many secrets. She was, and always will be my hero.

I searched my pockets for a tissue. Finding none, I laughed and cried with abandon. The theater was dark anyway. No one could see. Behind me a woman breathed with shallow deliberateness. She must be fighting cancer. When the large canvas was wheeled in, the artist began painting away the fears, my fears. As a ten year old, I made a pact with God when he took my mother. I said, “If you guide my hand, I will use my art to celebrate and praise your great work.” I felt he owed me. Art has to be able to heal any wound. In the end, I hope I give enough. I left the theater feeling love, hope and faith. My heart overflowed. The three shows raised over $5000 for breast cancer.

Painting the Set

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I stopped into the Orlando Shakespeare Theater’s scenic shop to see the progress on the set for “The Importance of Being Earnest.” Things move fast in the scenic shop the entire set facade was build and ready to be painted in three pieces. Jeff Ferree and Adam were painting when I arrived. Robbin Watts was in the theater itself painting the floors. She created an impressive speckled marble effect with the paint. Another woman slapped the floor with a long rag. This was a painting technique that was new to me.

I got to see the completed set a few nights later at the Shakespeare Fundraising Gala. The impressive Victorian architecture helped set the mood for the scene that was previewed. Gwendolyn and Cecily met in an outdoor garden. They were instant, affable, eternal friends. As Gwendolyn said, “Something tells me that we are going to be great friends. I like you already more than I can say. My first impressions of people are never wrong.” Cecily responded, “How nice of you to like me so much after we have known each other such a comparatively short time.” I see this sort of flippant instant friendships all the time in this age of social networks. What makes the scene so endearing and funny is how these two women politely turn against each other when they discover they might be engaged to the same man. Gwendolyn had a turn of heart, “From the moment I saw you I distrusted you. I felt that you were false and deceitful. I am never deceived in such matters. My first impressions of people are invariably right.” I rely on my first impressions, usually gained over the course of a sketch to guide me on my daily travels.

I had painted the Mennello Museum mural all day. Libby Rosenthal let me know there was a shower in the museums basement so I spruced up only moments before the gala and then drove right across the street. The shower was divine after working in the hot parking lot all day. Then, I couldn’t turn off the hot water in the shower. The knob was stuck. I dressed quickly and ran to my truck for a screwdriver. My glasses fogged up as I struggled with the knob and my dress shirt got soaked. Thankfully, I finally managed to fix the knob. Even taking a simple refreshing shower is a drama in my struggle of a life.

At the Gala, I got to rub shoulders with Orlando’s rarefied socialites. Terry declared the evening an official date night, and I wasn’t on assignment, so for the sake of marital bliss, I kept my sketchbook tucked away. My fingers itched but I resisted temptation. My bag of art supplies rested heavily on my shoulder just in case. Though physically exhausted, I followed as Terry flitted about the room, a social butterfly. Art isn’t easy.

The Importance of Being Earnest runs through October 9th.

IIyse Kusnetz Poetry Reading

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I stopped by Urban ReThink for an evening of poetry. I was greeted by friendly handshakes and hugs from many people who I had met thanks to the Kerouac House project. I had seen author Karen Price just the night before also at Urban ReThink. This place truly is becoming a lightning rod to the cultural pulse of this city. I picked up a “Pumpkin Head” beer from the freezer. What a delicious beer! I may just keep sketching events at Urban ReThink until their supply runs out. I’m thinking Pumpkin beer is seasonal but I just realized Halloween is only two months away! The supply is limitless for the next few months.

John Hughes was the first poet to get behind the microphone. I enjoyed the way he spoke about his brother. He claimed his brother is butt ugly yet girls always flocked to him. He couldn’t understand the phenomenon since he considered himself reasonably handsome. Lucky in love, unlucky in life the saying goes. Sure enough his brother had the worst luck growing up. He was glad to be near his brother since he would soak up all the bad luck in any room. When John read one poem which was written about his ex-wife, he mispronounced the first word saying “lick” instead of “lit”. A Kerouac House regular shouted, “Freudian slip!” John had to stop as he started laughing himself. He finally read the line of the poem, “lit the wick.” Every poet in the room burst into laughter as they re-wrote the line in their minds. It took me several seconds before I started laughing as well.

Ilyse Kusnetz explained that her collection of poems were all about bearing witness. I like the premise since I feel my role in sketching is to bear witness not just to the struggle of everyday life but also to the beauty in the mundane. Many of Ilyse’s poems were about WWII. Her uncle served in the war and being Jewish he was often called upon to translate. He witnessed the worst atrocities imaginable. One of her poems spoke of bodies piled high like cord wood and native Germans being directed to move the bodies they so long denied. Her father was to young to serve in the war but he did help on the docks. A huge crate being transferred to a ship slipped and everyone else let go of the guiding ropes except for her dad. She wrote a wonderful analogy about how he held tight just as he later did to keep his family together and secure.

The next day Terry was leaving me for ten days over Labor Day as she visited her sister in Washington State. Rather than mingle with all the writers after the reading, I immediately slipped out like a phantom. It was important to get home to Terry.

Drinks at Taps

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A friend of Amanda Chadwick’s named Matt Rankin was in town visiting from Washington D.C. Amanda arranged for a group of friends to get together to meet Matt. First we were to meet at Mitchell’s Fish Market (460 North Orlando Avenue Winter Park). Terry was there when I arrived. It was raining. Amanda and Matt arrived soon after my Martini. I had met Matt a few times around Orlando before he went to D.C. to apartment sit. He and Terry started telling jokes. Outside there was a musician playing guitar and singing cover songs. He was pretty good. Terry and I ended up ordering the same dinner. It was a delicious cod with a crab stuffing over asparagus shoots all baked in a light butter sauce. Everyone else was running late and they planned to meet us later at a bar called Taps. When we finished dinner we went to search for Taps. Google maps on Terry’s iPhone indicated it was within walking distance. We walked out the door and it was directly across the street.

We sat at a table outside and soon Wendy Wallenburg, Nikki Mier and Sarah Austin arrived. When I wasn’t sketching, I spent most of my time talking to Nikki. She had some wonderful suggestions about places and people I should sketch. Wendy kept asking for the darkest beer in the bar. She claimed there was a beer so dark and thick that it was impossible to see light through the glass. Several servers tried to find this dark beer for her. Samples littered the table. Terry, Nikki and I all ordered hard ciders. Mine was sharp and a little bitter like green apples. Nikki’s cider had a buttery after taste that was nice.

Nikki showed me an adorable picture of her as a child and some really sweet pictures of her dog. One photo of the dog eying a treat on a table was hilarious. Only his eyes and ears were visible and the treat was located where his nose would have been. Another photo showed the pup asleep with his nose tucked into a corner. The black oval spots on his coat receded as if in perspective. She called it her Escher shot. We were all finished with our drinks before I could finish my sketch. I ended up adding watercolor washes at home.

The Abbey

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The Orlando theater community gathered for a pot luck dinner at the Abbey (100 S. Eola Ave.) The space offers a bar, cabaret and a small stage for intimate downtown productions. Small tables filled the floor space reminding me a bit of Casablanca. A digital fireplace flickered near the bar and a large circular stained glass window decorated the ceiling. Terry and I made our way through the long line for food and then we sat near the stage.

I did this quick sketch when we finished eating. People networked and went table to table. I thought their might be some sort of presentation or announcement but that never happened. This was just a chance for the theater community to eat, drink, and be merry. Britt Daley and Scott Wilkins joined us at our table. Britt described all the work going into a music video she is producing for her recently recorded song, “One and Only.” Scott will be shooting and editing all the video. The video will be shot at the Orlando Repertory Theater. Britt is recruiting the help of many actors, dancers and other talented artists for the shoot. I of course asked to sketch on the set.

Our table at the Abbey was right in front of a huge speaker and the music got loud making it impossible to talk. We all moved to a table closer to the bar, behind a wrought iron railing overlooking the open seating area. Actors kept strolling across the stage inspecting the space. They might stop center stage and look out at the room squinting into the bright lights. No one performed. Finally Britt and Terry went on stage and they danced to the sixties retro pop that was playing. Red and green lights flashed and spiraled on the walls and floor. Scott shot video on his iPhone as they danced. I clapped loudly for their impromptu go-go dance.

Captain America WWII Burlesque

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Terry and I went to see “Captain America the First Avenger” on it’s opening weekend. Ultimately we were disappointed in the film. There was plenty of fist fighting and no character development. The predictable romance was unsatisfying; the actors had no chemistry. The constant fighting and explosive action became boring after a while. That evening there was going to be a World War II themed Burlesque party at the Comic Shop. Sophie Lamore one of the organizers of the event told me that my name would be on the list so I could sketch the event. Since the event cost $9, Terry decided to hang out with friends at Redlight Redlight while I sketched. It was Chad Bruce’s birthday.

When I got to the Comic Shop there was a large group of people at the back of the store waiting to get into the Geek Easy, a separate social gathering room in the back of the building. I noticed some Captain America comics on the bookshelf across from me. I had arrived a little late, so I was surprised that no one was allowed in yet. Though there probably wasn’t enough time, I decided to sketch the people waiting. A few women had on WWII themed dresses and a couple of guys wore military cargo pants. As I sketched people started filing in. When everyone was inside I walked up to the admissions table and told the woman my name so she could check the list. It was a bit odd announcing I was Thor in a comic shop. My name wasn’t there. I told her to check with Sophie who I had talked to about covering the event. From inside the venue, Sophie didn’t remember putting me on the list. The message was relayed to me. I was offered a discounted ticket, but realized it was a good excuse to get back to Chad’s birthday party. Besides I already had a finished sketch. My job was done. I drove back to Redlight Redlight to hang out with Terry and to wish Chad a happy birthday. As Terry and I left the bar, Chad offered me some eggs from his very own hen house. It was a farm fresh evening.

Bastille Day

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Bastille Day in the Audubon Garden District celebrated all things French. Falling on a weeknight this year, it was a much smaller event than last year. I went to Stardust Video & Coffee right after work to meet Terry. There was no hint of Bastille Day, or the romance of Paris, so I ordered a Coke and asked where the French might be found. I was told to look at a poster on the door. The poster offered no other clue. I was in the right neighborhood on the right day but other than that, I was lost. After Terry arrived we were finally directed to go across Corrine Drive to Bikes, Beans & Bordeaux. It was a hot muggy night. There were a few tents set up in the parking lot. In Brighton Boutique there was a black and white film being shown. Bonnie Sprung had a tent full of her French themed paintings. There was also chocolates and fine wines.

Amanda Chadwick, Sarah Austin and Wendy Wallenberg started chatting with Terry. When those women start talking, the conversation heats up like an episode of “Sex in the City.” I wandered off to sketch. A live band caught my attention but they stopped playing the second I put a line to paper. I shifted my attention to the people sipping wine and talking at the tables. One woman wore a dark beret. Night settled in quickly. When I finished my sketch, I re-joined Terry. She was seated in a lone chair and I sat beside her in my camping stool. Amanda convinced me I had to try the wine. When I got to the wine table I glanced back and saw that she had decided to occupy my stool. The wine required tickets. The guy standing next to me offered me his ticket since he had to drive home. He offered me a second ticket and I told him to offer it to Amanda. I asked him to have her get up to accept it and I would steal my seat back. He offered her the ticket. She hesitated at first, then when she reached out, he backed up. She caught on fast shouting, “You’re trying to get me out of this seat aren’t you!” What is the world coming to when we can’t accept the kindness of strangers?