Bar Louie

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After a fun evening of comedy, Terry, Amanda Chadwick and I went to Bar Louie which is in the same complex of restaurants and clubs on Sand Lake Road, a neighborhood referred to by some as Sandlando. The place was packed and the music was loud. Terry and Amanda went out on the dance floor and I started sketching. There were no seats available so I stood behind an empty table that was reserved. As I worked a group of women in gorgeous dresses and men with their hair slicked back sat at the table. It must have been a retro night since some men were dressed like John Travolta in “Saturday Night Fever.” They had long pointy collars and vests. I started to think that some guy dressed to the nines would take a swing at me as a way to impress his girl.

When the band stopped, Terry and Amanda went outside. I finished applying washes to the sketch. I never found out the name of the group playing. I closed the sketchbook and went to join Terry and Amanda outside. A huge plate sized beetle was scurrying awkwardly across the pavement. It looked like it was gasping for breath through its neck. Amanda was skyping Matt in Seattle. I waved to the video image of him but couldn’t hear anything he said over the crowd. We didn’t stay much longer. The band was about to start another set as we walked out to the parking lot.

txt at Urban ReThink

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Conceptual artist Brian Feldman has one more performance of txt tonight, July 25th at 7pm at Urban ReThink (625 East Central Blvd.). I sat in on the first of three performances to sketch. I have seen txt performed several times before and was entertained every time. For the first time, I signed into the proper Twitter account and was prepared to send Brian a txt during the performance to be read aloud. Brian walked out and sat at the spindly desk waiting for his cell phone to vibrate. He read, “Let’s get started with a couple of ground rules.” Terry was busy munching on a bag of potato chips. I wrote my first txt, he read, “Rule number 1. No eating!” He shouted it out, pointing at Terry. I placed my phone on the floor and forgot about it as I lost myself in the sketch.

“Thor is wearing a shirt he bought in North Carolina.” Terry must have written that, I thought. I looked at my shirt. Funny, I don’t remember buying it in North Carolina. Tod Caviness walked in late. “This guy is late,” Brian announced. I raised my hopes thinking Tod would offer some literary subtlety to the strange meaningless flow of ideas. As always, the unfiltered thoughts turned to sex. “Raise your hand if you want to have a 3 or 4 way later.” “Oh, there are swingers in the room?!” “Rule number 16, if no one laughs I’m going to stand on Thor’s shoulders and fart in your face.” Who on earth wrote that? I thought. Do I know that person. Do I want to know that person? “Rule number 237. No sex in the champagne room with Thor.” What?! I blushed. Alright, who wrote that? More important was it a man or woman? I looked around for a guilty face. Where on earth is the champagne room? I need to go sketch it now.”Sex in the champagne room at Hue. See you at 8.” Well that answers that question anyway, Hue is a night club. “I would totally rock Thor’s hammer.” “OK, who mentioned sex with Thor? It wasn’t his wife and if she finds you she will scratch your eyes out.” “Why is everyone talking about Thor, lets chat about Green Lantern! He is great too!” Thank Odin, the conversation wasn’t about me at all. I’m so vain.

Across from me Peter Murphy was sitting next to Colleen Burns. She wore a blue dress. “Hey girl in the blue dress, don’t wear a bra next time.” I looked up at Colleen her mouth was open, aghast. “Awkward.” Brian announced. “Later on I’m going to get down with that lady in the… (my eyes are bad)… The Blue dress!” “My boyfriend is obsessed with the girl in the blue dress.” “The girl in the blue dress is taken.” Well that settles that, I thought. “Imagine me planking on the lady in the blue dress later. Ha!” Colleen seemed to take all the attention with humor. “I am NEVER wearing a blue dress ever again!”

With no filters, no social niceties, people don’t have a need for polite meaningful conversation. The Internet has unleashed an age of unrestricted self-expression and the results are often brash and ugly. Tapping out every thought that pops into our heads isn’t art. Having contributed to this performance by tapping out my one tweet, I felt a little dirty. I was complicit in the crime of random expression. This show shocked and amazed me every time I saw it. It is a guilty pleasure. Several evenings later I saw Colleen at another event. She was wearing a blue dress.

The Final Shuttle Launch

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Terry and I were startled awake by the clock alarm at 4am. We stumbled about getting ready to go to the space coast to see the Launch of Space Shuttle Atlantis. We planned to go to Space View Park which is right across the Saint John’s river directly across from Launch Complex 39. It is as close as you can get to a launch without being in the press section. I drove east on the Beach Line Expressway while Terry snoozed. In the last few miles I asked her to help navigate me to the park. Suddenly there was traffic. Parking spaces were being sold for $20 to $30 dollars. We wandered the back streets until I found a spot on a dead end street next to a dumpster. We walked the five or so blocks to the park. The streets were crowded with families carting their picnic lunches. A homeless man snarled, “Ya’ll look like a bunch of cockroaches lookin‘ for a scrap of bread.” I didn’t see that. People were excited, anticipating a historic launch.

The entrance to Space View Park was packed with news vans. The park was full of tents from people who had camped out overnight. Terry tried to walk straight out to the pier but we reached a point where we could walk no further. We backtracked a bit and I found a cement ledge to sit on and I began my first sketch. A family lounged in their camping chairs. People kept packing in. The woman behind me had a lanyard on that said she was with a tweet-up group. I asked if the tweeters were all together. She said they were scattered throughout the park. Terry forced her way out to the edge of the park overlooking the river to the north.

When I joined Terry, I could see that the bridge over the river was packed with people. Every square inch of shoreline was also packed with people. In Space View park everyone sat facing the launch pad which was visible to the eye if you knew where to look. I sat facing the crowd and started a second sketch. There were still several hours until the launch. A young couple played cards. Others read or looked at their cell phones. Some slept. There was no Internet or texting since the cell tower couldn’t handle all the signals. People were left having to engage in conversations and other analog forms of diversion. A man right behind Terry talked endlessly in a monotone about the boring minutia of his job to his buddy. Terry had to read aloud to concentrate on her book. We had some apples to munch on and some humus. I was content, being able to sketch people up close and personal.

A father and son were casting a net, fishing in the river beside us. The water was just up to their knees. Soon other people waded out into the water. A crowd formed. Even photographers set up their tripods in the rivers muddy bottom waiting for the launch…

Orlando Weekly “Best of Orlando” Party

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Each year the Orlando Weekly publishes a “Best of Orlando” edition. There is a category for Best Blog, but this year I threw my AADW votes to The Daily City. Even with my support, The Daily City only got 2nd place. Some Republican political blog won 1st place. Anyway, I was asked to submit an illustration to this edition of the paper and part of the compensation was two comp tickets to the big bash at The Beacham Theater. The Beacham is newly renovated, and I was curious to get a glimpse inside. When I arrived, Brian Feldman was getting ready for his performance piece, “The Boxer.” He was going to hand out copies of the Orlando Weekly from inside on of their red newspaper boxes. Since I was early, Brian walked me inside and up to the balcony where I had a view of all the action below. He said, “This is the first time I’ve been in this theater since I was 11 years old.” He went back outside to continue setting up, and I started sketching on my digital tablet.

The bands were doing soundchecks. One group had urban tap dancers and plastic paint cans as drums. As I sketched, people started to trickle in. Busty barmaids in slick black dresses vogued as they shot photos of each other. Soon the place was packed. The bar became a hive of activity. Blackjack tables started getting busy. Entry to the event entitled each person to 1,000 units of Casino Chips, which could be turned in at the end of the evening for prizes.

With my balcony sketch finished, I went outside to sketch Brian. Terry was at the bar trying to shoot photos of Brian Feldman and Mark Baratelli’s awards as they popped up on a large video screen. Outside, Brian was in the tiny red box right at the entrance. That meant I had to sit on the sidewalk to get a view of him. I wedged myself against the red velvet rope and got to work. There was maybe two feet of space behind me to the curb and I had to shove forward several times to let caterers by with huge vats of food. I think Brian’s presence threw people for a loop and some searched around for another way in. One woman cooed to Brian, “Oh, you’re so cute.” When she was gone he pointed to the back of his throat and gagged. He had trouble keeping his head up and he napped between groups of people entering the club. People kept offering him food and drink. He always refused. I , on the other hand, was actually quite hungry and parched.

The sketch was going good, the ink work finished, when I heard a voice behind me. It was a policeman on a bike. “Oh no, not again .” I thought. He asked me to, ” Move along.” Since I wasn’t finished with the sketch, I asked, “Can I sit out in the street to avoid blocking pedestrian traffic?” “No,” he said, “Then I’d be concerned you might get injured.” I just sat for a moment, thinking. He said, “Is he on a time out?” It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Brian in the box. I explained that it was performance art and for a second I thought he was going to ask Brian to move along as well. He didn’t. He asked me to move again, then biked off. He didn’t say I couldn’t stand where I was, so I stood and started quickly throwing down watercolor washes. I worked fast since I figured the bike cop might just go around the block and check back in on my anarchist sketch in progress.

David Plotkin, the new art director at the Orlando Weekly, introduced himself to me just as I was finishing up the sketch. I flipped through my sketchbook to show David and his lady friend my work. I was still rattled thinking the police might return. My wife Terry had just left and I was feeling guilty for not spending more time with her inside the party. I went back inside and made myself several soft tacos from the decimated food table. The stage was empty. I wolfed down the tacos and typed a text message on my cell to Terry, “Heading home.” I left, still feeling persecuted by the law. Besides, I wasn’t a winner.

White House Concert

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Satuko Fujii Ma-do, an experimental jazz quartet from Japan performed at the White House at an unusually early 3pm show. The White House concerts are free, being hosted by Benoit Glaser and his beautiful family. The concert space was designed by Benoit and it is acoustically exceptional. Benoit is the music director for Cirque du Soleil.

When I entered, I immediately wandered up the spiral staircase to the top floor where I filled my watercolor brushes with water in the bathroom. I found a seat right up against the railing overlooking the stage. I love this “god’s eye” view. Robin Maria-Pedrero was the visual artist who worked next to the stage. Robin’s canvas developed quickly as she brushed in large bold blocks of color. Under these colors was some masking agents which she rubbed off revealing hidden shapes and forms. Her bright multi layered work was a good match to the abstract experimental sounds of Satuko Fujii Ma-do.

The music was often dissonant and disjointed. The trumpet was used to create squealing wet sounds that caused some audience members to laugh uncomfortably. It was fun to sketch to and the rising swell and thrust of each piece inspired the lines I was dashing off on the page. Terry showed up late and her friend Wendy Wallenberg was there to joke around with us as we stood around the snack table after the concert. Wendy took over the hostess duties by straightening up and rearranging everything on the table.

I spoke with Robin the visual artist after the performance. She explained how she likes to find recognizable forms in the abstract brushwork she first puts down. She pointed to a canvas on the wall and said the rabbits were such a revelation to her. I didn’t see the rabbits at first and I was surprised when their tiny forms jumped out at me.

Isle of Palms

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Terry and I drove to Isle of Palms early in the hopes of avoiding the July 4th traffic rush to the beach. Since we were several hours early we found the Sea Island grill and sat outside by the pool to relax. Terry ordered a coffee and I ordered a very weak lemonade. After the first tasteless sip I forgot about my drink. There were very few people seated outside so I focused my attention on Terry who was reading her New York magazine. If we ever move back to NYC she will have insights to every neighborhood. She has been reading that magazine since we met 23 years ago.

Terry’s cousins own a condo right on the beach. Barbecue hot dogs and burgers were being prepared. After a few snacks and sodas everyone headed down to the beach. I slathered some sun block on Terry’s back and we ventured into the water. Robbie who is a journalist waded out with us. The water was much colder than the water at Coco Beach in Florida. The first tentative steps were the coldest. Once my bathing suit was wet it was easier to dive in all the way. Well, I didn’t actually dive, since I had on a baseball cap and my glasses. I wanted to be able to see the waves. I love jumping up with each swell trying to ride over the wave before it breaks. One wave was just too large. It caught me by surprise causing me to tumble backward doing a flip under water. I felt my glasses flying off underwater and I reached out blindly and they danced on my finger tips before I grasped them. The cap found it’s way to the surface later and I scooped it up from the foam. We decided to go back to the beach towels and drop off the glasses. We rushed right back out.

I enjoy the persistent strategy of trying to predict and ride over each wave. It reminds me of dodge ball which I used to enjoy playing in gym. Terry was enjoying the surf as well and for once we could laugh and play like kids. Robbie was talking about his proposed blog so much that I lost sight of the waves behind me and I was again swamped and tossed like a rag doll. Each time I was caught by surprise I would sputter and stand up to the continuing onslaught with renewed enthusiasm. I saw Terry go under as well, and she also faced each new wave with childish buoyancy and delight.

Naval Shipyard

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Terry wanted to go for a walk so my sister Shirley drove us to the Naval Shipyard in Charleston. The Shipyard was in operation from 1901 to 1996. A developer by the name of Noisette had a vision to develop the former shipyard into a hip urban neighborhood with luxury condos and a trendy shopping district. Money to finance this Dubai dream ran out. The one thing that was built was the riverfront park which honors Navy veterans through the years. One feature I really like is a black concrete rivulet which runs in a gentle arch from a main fountain. I was drawn to this statue of a couple re-united after war. It reminds me of a famous V-Day photo taken in Times Square.

This park was going to be the home base for a fireworks display on July 4th. There were several dozen construction site mobile lighting units waiting to be set up. Shirley joined Terry on the walk and I worked quickly. I read one plaque that said that this Naval Shipyard was a major manufacturing site for naval mines. When Terry finished her walk, it was time to go.

Cocktails & Cosmos

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Terry had purchased tickets to Cocktails and Cosmos at the Orlando Science Center. After we got our arm bands we wandered into the main room on the second floor. Terry made a bee-line to a table that offered clothing for sale and I was immediately intrigued by a mural that was in progress. A guitarist played all night near the mural as guests took red plastic cups of paint and brushed their chosen color onto the canvas. The canvas had two guitars painted in vibrant warm colors and an all seeing eye dead center. The company that organized this community painting was Harmonious Universe. The company’s motto is “Be it Share it.” They say the motto is alive in the moment. So whatever “it” is to you, then that is what you are to “be.” To fully “be it” you must “share it.” I identify with the motto since each sketch is incomplete until I share it’s story.

There was a fashion show which featured men and women’s fashions from the 60’s to the present. Peter Murphy introduced the show by telling everyone in the audience to put their hands in the air. He then said hug your neighbor to your left. I was at the end of the row so I had no one to hug but Nikki Mier gave me a warm hug. It was a fun and lively show with each model walking in character from demure 60’s flower child to surly rock and rollers. I spoke to Nikki between fashion decades and it turns out she is a store manager for Fairvilla Megastore. I informed her that I once planned to sketch in this adult mega store when a porn star was in town offering autographs. I chickened out or didn’t consider it blog worthy at the time. Nikki and Wendy Wallenberg were texting important information throughout the fashion show. I asked if her store contributed items for the fashion show. Unfortunately they didn’t, but some of the fashion items in her store are similar. She suggested I sketch Fairvilla before Halloween because the store gets crowded with people trying on costumes. I enjoyed telling her about how I earned money to get myself through college by working as the art director for Oui magazine. I was perhaps the only virgin to ever art direct a Men’s magazine. I never discussed this darker side of my career when I worked for Disney.

Carl Knickerbocker was at the event and he wanted to see the iMax movie “The Ultimate Wave Tahiti.” I joined him downstairs as the women chatted upstairs. Jelly fish sculptures made from found objects were suspended from the ceiling. They were the work of local artist Doug Rhodehamel. I bet they glow in black light but unfortunately only florescent lights were on. The movie in the three story high theater was mind blowing. I got dizzy a few times as helicopter shots flew over the ocean. I was constantly twisting my neck trying to see everything in my peripheral vision.

Terry, Wendy and a group of women kept laughing as staff rushed around folding chairs and putting away tables. We were the last to leave. I felt like I was watching an episode of Sex in the City. I snapped a photo of them in front of the mural that everyone at the party had helped paint. I take that back, Carl and I never lifted a brush.

The Attack of the Jellies!

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Over the Memorial day weekend Terry and I met Elaine Pasekoff and Derrek Hewitt at Coco Beach. We stuffed quarters in the parking meters and hiked over the small boardwalk to the beach. We were surprised that the strip of beach we were on wasn’t crowded. A huge sea turtle lay on the dry sand its shell broken. The stench of death overpowered us and we moved up the beach. The umbrella and chairs that Derrek had carried were set up. I was the first to walk to the water’s edge. There I was shocked to find billions of jelly fish being washed up in the surf. These were mauve stingers which are usually native to the Mediterranean. The wet sand was littered with jellies each one being the size of a ping pong ball. There was no way I was going in the water. When I looked up and down the beach I realized that there was no one in the water. The pink blobs had taken back the ocean on one of the busiest weekends of the summer season.

Lifeguards treated over 1,800 people for stings. Though not as potent as the sting from a blue Portuguese man-of-war, the stings were painful. Local convenience stores ran out of Benadryl and vinegar. We joked that we might have to pee on each other if we got stung. A few people were sent to local hospitals after suffering from allergic reactions. It wasn’t safe in the water. The four of us huddled under the beach umbrella. I sketched the view to the north.

The attack of the jellies was unprecedented. This species of jellyfish had never been seen on these beaches. Jellies are flourishing in the warmer ocean waters, being washed up on beaches more often. After invading the beach for the weekend, the smack of jellyfish disappeared as mysteriously as it appeared.

Signing CDs

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Terry got tickets to hear world class violinist, Joshua Bell, play with the Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra at the Bob Carr Theater. We were seated far back away from the stage so I didn’t attempt a sketch. Terry pointed out that my name was in the program twice, probably because I had donated a sketch for a fundraiser. The house lights dimmed and I snuggled back into my seat. The music was soothing so I closed my eyes and drifted away. Periodically my head would bob forward and I would shake myself awake before drifting off again. The violinist performed after the intermission. He played admirably with bravado and flair. He stood the whole time shifting his weight often, swaying with the flow of the music.

For an encore he performed “Yankee Doodle” which he spiced up with so much intricate showmanship that it was always a surprise when the simple tune became recognizable. Christopher Wilkins the conductor let everyone know that the violinist would be signing CDs in the lobby after the performance. He joked that if you had your own sharpie, you might be allowed to sign the violin. Apparently the Stradivarius violin has a long colorful history.

I have been searching for lines to draw and there was a huge line of people waiting to get their CDs signed. As soon as I started sketching the line started to move. A handler hurried people along making sure they didn’t speak to the musician for long. “Please keep it moving” he kept saying. As I sketched one of the ushers approached me and said I would have to leave the floor. There were hundreds of people in the lobby and I didn’t understand why I was being asked to move, but I complied. I continued to work on the sketch from a vantage point on the stairwell to the lobby. When I saw the usher was gone, I returned to my original spot and continued to work. By this time I was in a foul mood. I wondered if the violinist’s handler had considered me some sort of threat. Was my sketching causing a disruption? Honestly few people noticed what I was doing. This incident made me feel like sketching events at the Bob Carr is more of a hassle than it is worth.