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.

Master Playwright Residency

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The Atlantic Center of the Arts in New Smyrna Beach has a master artists in residency program. Residency #142 put students in touch with three talented playwrights, Annie Baker, Heather Woodbury, and Dael Orlandersmith. The Mad Cow Theater opened its doors so these women could discuss what it is like being a playwright in America today. I arrived at the Mad Cow Theater rather sweaty and worn around the edges from several other sketch assignments that day. The lobby was packed and the room hummed with conversations as people enjoyed wine and finger food. There was a table full of name tags and I didn’t see my name. This was a much bigger event than I expected, and for a moment I thought I might not get in.

Exhausted I sat on the windowsill and observed all the excitement in the room. I heard a woman say, “let me grab my wine.” She reached behind me and grabbed a cup. I had almost sat on it. Thank god it didn’t spill. A young woman sat next to me to relax. Mitzi, a perky young mom, started talking to her and I discovered I was sitting next to Annie Baker, one of the playwrights. Mitzi was talking about one of her children and Annie who is 30 wondered if she would ever have time for a family. Mitzi’s husband, a handsome man in a light suit and dark spiked hair joined the conversation. He thought Annie was just in her mid twenties and he said, “You look too young to have written five plays.”

The cow bell rang letting everyone know it was time to enter the theater. Peg Okeif was the moderator. The Mad Cow Theater will be moving this year to Church Street Station which will put it in the midst of all the new nightlife being generated thanks in part to the new arena. Excerpts were performed from each of the three women’s plays. I discovered that I was seated next to all the actors who performed that night. I moved aside each time they went on stage to read. Each of the readings had an amazing blend of humor and serious drama. I was left wanting more.

The moderated conversation with the playwrights afterward inspired and charged me. Annie Baker who wrote “Circle Mirror Transformation” said, “Art is about holding up a mirror, that mirror can be smooth and representational or distorted. We try to show what peoples lives are like and what the inner landscape of peoples minds look like. Art is about chronicling.” I was surprised when Dael, who wrote Yellow Man, pointed out that several college professors discouraged her writing. Heather had similar experiences. Annie spoke about a professor who wanted to share the true secret of great playwrights. The students leaned forward with bated breath. He said, “The best playwrights are the ones who read the most.” Annie noted an alarming flood of people who want to write yet they have no interest in reading. Dael pointed out that the more she reads, the more she humbly realizes what she doesn’t know. When asked about the artist as recluse Annie pointed out that she has the best of both worlds. She writes for months at a time alone and focused then she gets to work with the actors offering plenty of interaction. Asked how she knows her play is done, Annie said, “The play is never exactly what I hoped it would be when I started. But even though it might have a swollen eye and be misshapen, I still love it like a child.”

Heather Woodbury’s plays are created on the web allowing a full view of her creative process. Her serialized ongoing online videos create a world she hopes people will want to return to again and again. She plays every roll. I’m fascinated with the way she is embracing and recreating her art for this new digital medium. There was concern that only the rarefied elite go to plays anymore since ticket prices are so high. Great plays speak to everyone. By the end of the evening I felt a glowing kinship with each of the playwrights. I wish I could have talked to each at length but when the evening ended they were surrounded. I rushed out of the theater after grabbing a card from Heather and walked the streets downtown feeling rejuvenated.

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.

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.

Bitches of the Kingdom

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I desperately wanted to see “Bitches of the Kingdom”. The show had won a Patron’s Pick Award and so it had one last performance on Memorial Day. I had met the producers Fiely and Dennis and they were so incredibly gracious. When Terry and I arrived at the Shakespeare Theater lobby, there was already a long line. This time around there was no problem picking up tickets. The line stretched from the entrance of the Margeson Theater all the way to the entryway. A volunteer split the line behind us and then had it wind back down the length of the building down a ramp. Every time someone entered, the volunteer would ask them if they had their tickets and a Fringe badge. He would then direct them to the end of the line.

When we got inside the Margeson, we looked for seats on the side lines so I could be close to the performers. Fiely Matias, the show’s producer and director pointed to two seats that were being saved with yellow programs taped to the seat backs. Terry was pleased and the seats were in a great spot for me to sketch from. I hooked up a book light to my sketchbook so I could sketch when the house lights went down.

The show was a delight from the start. It plays upon the princess complex that is so prevalent in the Disney Animated films. These princesses look beyond “Happily Ever After.” They had attitude. Snow White played by Michelle Knight started things off with a stunning solo. I have seem her perform twice before. She knows how to grab an audience’s attention and hold it from the first note. Her voice is hypnotizing. The music and lyrics were written by Dennis Giacono who sat behind the piano. The lyrics and performances were always laugh out loud funny. Snow White held a note for so long that the audience started to clap. Cinderella played by Brittany Berkowitz LeNoir waited excitedly to begin her song. Snow White hogged the spotlight by extending her song with flashy vocal acrobatics, interrupting Cinderella every time she stepped forward. Snow White sang to a pretty bird on her finger then she gently tossed him in the air and he dropped like a rock. She tried to kick him aside like nothing happened. lt was hilarious.

One of my favorite numbers was “All I want to do is Eat!” Cinderella was on the thin side and any Disney princess seemed to always have a pencil thin waste. At the end of this number Cinderella is so lost in the thought of food, that she shivered orgasmically. Belle covered her eyes while the other princesses raised an eyebrow. The song ended with Cinderella getting close to the microphone and taking a rapturous crunch of a potato chip.

Another funny number was “Big Tits.” Snow White dominated this number with a sassy, sensual performance that stressed the power she held over any Prince Charming. As she put it, “Do I look like I have to wait for my prince to cum?” After a moments pause the audience roared. Early rehearsals demonstrate much of the charm and magic that was brought to life with today’s cast. I can’t brag enough about this production. I hope it has a long life in increasingly larger venues. These bitches rule!

My Pal Izzy

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I met Melanie Galle, the actress from My Pal Izzy, on the green lawn of fabulousness. She was handing out flyers to her show and when I told her I needed models for the Mennello Museum mural she was glad to help. She handed out more flyers and then met me to head across the street to the museum. As I sketched her outside she was enchanted with all the lizards that scurried among the leaves. She had a constant childish delight that made for a fun sketching experience.

Melanie channeled that delight in her performance as Rebecca Rosenstein, a childhood friend of Irving Berlin. She related details from Irving Berlin’s early career as she also related details of her career as a show girl. She dressed conservatively in the beginning of the show, keeping herself wrapped in an elegant purple kimono. When she sang “If you don’t want my Peaches” she let the kimono slip open showing her vibrant yellow dress. She shook her shoulders and sang, “you better stop shakin’ my tree!” Most of the Irving Berlin songs had this fun playful spirit.

Dorothy Goetz was a young singer who approached Irving Berlin with the hopes of singing his next hit. Another singer was there and the two women brawled over the sheet music. Izzy quickly fell in love. His romance with Dorothy Goetz however ended tragically when Dorothy died when she was just 20 years old. In his grief he was unable to write. Friends finally pulled him aside to convince him that he had to go on. The song he wrote next, called “When I lost you” was heart wrenching.

My Pal Izzy was a a nostalgic look back at the heart felt joys and sorrow of a great songwriter. Melanie’s well trained voice delivered the songs with warmth and humor. The performance combined fact and fiction to unravel the secrets of an amazing talent. The music is still fresh and vibrant today.

Squatters

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Squatters was conceived by Jeremy Seghers. This was one of the few improvised shows at Fringe this year. Jeremy built the idea around the premise that a sitcom about people living through hard times can be funny. I arrived a little early and blocked in the set in my sketchbook since I knew the show was only half an hour. Logan Donahue was a guest star. Every performance of Squatters at Fringe would be unique. Jeremy said he had given prompts and suggestions the evening before in a prior performance and he suspected the actors had too much time to over think the possibilities. On the evening I sketched the actors were given prompts just moments before they went on stage.

I found myself doing improv once when director Aradhana Tiwari insisted I join her group of actors. I was way out of my comfort zone yet the thrill of scenes taking on a life of their own is a thrill. Therefore I was rooting for the cast with every quirky turn.

The show started with a stage hand wearing a head set came who out to announce the beginning of the show. We were the studio audience. The set consisted of an ugly lime green rug and furniture that looked like it was from the 60’s. Hints that the family was squatting were subtle, like when Cody Bush bragged that he had landed a job at Walmart. Logan added a real spark when he entered as a new age guru with a purple mask painted on his face. Scenes where he seduced Ashli Conrad were inspired.

There were plenty of laugh out loud moments and some outright strange surreal moments that were so campy I had to laugh. The laugh track added another layer to the humor. I must say, I had fun and this show took many chances many of which paid off. This is what Fringe is all about.

Oral

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I was delighted when Hannah Kugelmann the author of “Oral” contacted me. She first thought of the concept for this play while she was attending UCF. The show was first introduced to Fringe audiences in 2006 where it won “Best Fringe Newbie.” The play began with Lindsay Cohen taking a thick piece of chalk and writing fellatio on the blackboard. Turning toward the audience she described the derivation of the word and then described the process of giving head in delightful detail. She stroked the thick stick of chalk absentmindedly as she spoke. I maneuvered the sketchbook onto my lap. She described a two fisted process of alternating hand movements that I am certain I have never experienced.

Each member of the cast would come out and write their own word of choice on the blackboard to begin their thoughts about oral sex. Though some scenes were a bit clinical, the open dialogue began to unravel the underlying importance of intimacy in relationships. A man came out and began a long argument about how he felt accepted when a woman swallowed. He punctuated his discussion with a sad face spitting and a happy face licking it’s lips for swallowing. The misunderstandings and confusion that men and women have on the subject showed how difficult it can be to satisfy a partner if the subject isn’t discussed. Brian Feldman walked across the stage at an arbitrary moment and several audience members clapped.

In the one scene where oral sex is simulated under the cover of sheets, the woman came up for air when she was done, and became annoyed when her partner praised her for her technique. The argument escalated until the man finally offered some advice. She was suddenly complacent and they cuddled in bed. He then started offering another suggestion, but she stopped him saying, “Don’t push your luck.” Who knew that an hour spent talking about oral sex could be so funny, educational and uncover so much about our underlying emotional needs. This was a delightful production that left me thinking… Why is it I have never … , no I don’t think I’ll go there. But I might have intimacy issues.

The Attendant

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As one of his 11 performances at this year’s Fringe Festival, performance artist Brian Feldman, decided to pose as a bathroom attendant. He set up shop in the Orlando Shakespeare Theater’s men’s and women’s room. When I arrived at the men’s room, Tisse Mallon was acting as an attendant in Brian’s place since he was running late. He ran in with a rental tux slung over his shoulder and went to change in the handicap stall. Tisse helped him with his bow tie and cumber-bun. There was a large tip bowl and plenty of manly items for sale. Some items like Q- tips were complimentary. If you wanted baked beans, a pickle, condom or the latest copy of Jet magazine, there was a price list.

I had only sketched in a public bathroom once before. That time, the bathroom wasn’t in use. This time men came and went frequently. Several men must have eaten something nasty from the vendors outside because there were some wet noisy gastric explosions. I suggested that perhaps there should be a quaint fountain sound track in case anyone was unable to concentrate on the task at hand. Some men turned away thinking there must be a line since some people stood around and gawked. I suppose having an artist sketch you while you pee could be distracting. Mark Baratelli came in and snapped pictures. Then he tried to coach Brian on how an attendant should interact with patrons. His examples were hysterical. When someone reached for soap he would thrust his arm in the way and say, “let me get that for you.”

There were DVD’s for sale as well like Mannequins 2, and films starring Silvester Stallone. I was surprised when one of the five hour energy drinks was sold. I erased it from my sketch. The oddest item was a crusty sea captain sculpture. Ear plugs seemed appropriate should a show be too loud and Advil would help the resulting headache. Tisse offered a tour of the women’s room and I stopped my sketch to follow her. In the women’s room there was a pregnancy test kit, stockings and an even wider assortment of goodies. It was an odd feeling being in there as women squeezed by to get to the stalls. As I was leaving a women was coming in. Her eyes widened when she saw me and she asked, “Am I in the right place.” I said, “Yep, you’re at the Fringe.”

I rushed off to a show I had been invited to attend by the writers. It was pouring outside. Terry entered the lobby drenched. Through a series of volunteer mistakes and blunders, we were then turned away from the theater, our tickets given away to others in a completely sold out house. If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong. Terry was furious at me for spending so much time in the men’s room and not getting into the show I promised her we would see. I think I’m Fringe fried.

0il change?

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As one of the eleven performance pieces Brian Feldman is doing at this year’s Orlando Fringe Festival, he promoted an event where he would change the oil in Beth Marshall’s car. When I arrived Brian’s mom, Marilyn, was there to greet me in front of the Shakespeare Theater. She stood near an old beat up Ford Ranger. Parked in front of the pickup was a sleek new black Mustang. Brian arrived dressed in blue mechanic’s overalls. He announced that the performance was sponsored by Harriet Lake. I sat on top of a retaining wall next to Beth.

Brian had recruited his Uncle, Gary Wattman, to supervise since Brian had never changed a car’s oil in his life. Brian crawled under the truck to find the oil drain plug while his uncle coached him. When the plug was found, Gary handed Brian a wrench to get it off. A small bowl was in place to catch the old oil. Brian groaned and strained in an effort to loosen the plug. He continued to groan for perhaps ten minutes. Beth shouted, “It sounds like you’re giving birth under there!” Gary gave Brian a two foot length of lead pipe to slip over the wrench handle to gain some leverage. He couldn’t get that plug off.

Then someone suggested they drive the front end of the truck up onto the curb to give him more room to work. The front wheels wouldn’t drive over the curb. Fringe patrons continued to walk by. If the truck lunged up someone could get hurt. Beth called off the curb idea. They then considered using a curb closer to the museum. Before they got there Brian called off the oil change, conceding defeat. He decided to park the truck back at the original staging point. Instead of changing the oil he simply topped it off.

Beth was asked why Brian was working on her husband’s pickup rather than her sporty Mustang. “Are you kidding me? This car is new and he has no idea what he is doing. He might break something. We are thinking of getting rid of the pickup soon anyway.” she said.