On the Road

Kelly Medford was visiting Orlando from Rome, Italy. She decided she wanted to do a plein air painting of the Kerouac House. Kelly does a plein air painting every day which is astounding and ambitious. The last time I had sketched the house, I sat on a small patch of grass between a chain link fence and the street. The home owner walked her dog while I was working and when she returned, she yelled at me. I was certain the old lady would call the police. I of course told Kelly the horror story. She decided to set her easel up on the road. Traffic was light on Clouser Avenue but I had to admire her chutzpa. A garbage truck roared by and Kelly waved to the driver. I sat “On the Road” a few yards away from her and started blocking in my own sketch.

The yard around the Kerouac House had experienced a major overhaul. Palmettos and other dense foliage had been removed leaving the side of the building looking naked and exposed. I respected the buildings modesty and didn’t sketch its newly exposed flank. The house to me, had a sad worn look to it. Roof lines sagged inward and the tired beams struggled to support the weight of the tin roof. A giant live oak towered over the house, letting in only thin beams of sunlight. What a gorgeous day. I don’t sketch outside much since I’m usually sketching indoor events. This was a nice change of pace. Kelly moved the garbage can and recycling bins so they weren’t in her picture. I rather liked them, since they show that the place is and always will be occupied and alive, full of creative energy and the buzz of independent minds sharing thoughts and experiences.

A women power walked past us saying, “Hello, how nice to see artists in the neighborhood!” Kelly laughed afterwards saying, “Why doesn’t SHE live across the street from the Kerouac House?” As if on cue, the old lady came out with her bloodhound on a leash. I sucked in my breath. She disappeared around the corner, past the STOP sign, without incident. She returned and re-entered her home quietly as well. When my sketch was finished, I walked up to Kelly to see her progress. Her oil painting was completely blocked in and she was refining the details. She extended an open invitation for Terry and I to visit Rome to paint and explore. That is a very tempting invitation. A private Prix de Rome, learning about that ancient city from a resident artist. Jack Kerouac would have certainly jumped at the chance to leap over that vast expanse of the Atlantic and soak in the ancient ruins.

Mona Washington – Playwright

Mona Washington is the present resident writer at the Kerouac House. We met at a reading she did at Infusion Tea. She saw the sketch I did and invited me over to the Kerouac House to do a sketch of her as she worked. I have always approached each resident author with the idea of sketching them and this was the first time the stars lined up. As I was sketching Mona at the kitchen table, she was doing online research for the play she was working on. The play is about freed slaves after the Civil War who are not entirely free. She was researching how female slaves were often used sexually by their owners. After years of this kind of treatment, a slaves body is not entirely her own. A male slave who was trained as a blacksmith had a relationship with this female slave and he was shocked by her promiscuity. She just wanted to feel good.

Mona had on her lucky Police tee shirt. This was the shirt she was wearing last time I sketched her. The Gato Negro red wine we were drinking was sweet and delicious. Mona read aloud from some of the sites she found using the Google search engine. She read to me from a KKK website and I told her about a KKK demonstration that I had witnessed in Maitland. Jack Kerouac glanced over at us from his framed in place of honor in the kitchen. Mona started offering suggestions for residencies that I should apply for. As we talked she was firing off e-mails to my home computer. She is an incredibly giving person and that evening she opened my eyes to creative opportunities that I didn’t know existed.

On November 12th at 8pm Mona is going to read from her work in progress at the Kerouac House (on the corner of Shady Lane and Clouser in College Park.) Mona’s work is insightful and deeply moving, you don’t want to miss it.

Mona Washington Reads at Infusion Tea

Monthly author readings have resumed at Infusion Tea. Mona Washington who is the new resident author at the Kerouac House, read from a work in progress. Terry had never been to Infusion before so she asked that I get there a half hour early so we could talk for a while before I started sketching. I got a last minute call that T-shirts I had ordered for the ColORLANDO event were ready to be picked up. I called Terry to let her know I was bound to be late. I parked two blocks away from Mother Falcon, where I had ordered the shirts. I called Terry as I walked and again after I had the shirts in hand. I got to Infusion just as Naomi Butterfield was getting up to the podium to get things started. There was little time for conversation before I got to work. When Mona got up to read, Terry mouthed, “I’m going.”
Mona’s story had to do with a married couple who no longer knew how to communicate. The romantic spark of their youth had burned out. The husband created a promiscuous mistress in his mind that satisfied his sexual desires whenever he wanted. As Mona said, “They fell into a pattern where they didn’t treat each other with even the respect they might show a taxi driver.” The couple went to a marriage counselor where they talked about their feelings and how they felt about their feelings. They then fell right back into old established patterns of behavior. The husband hinted at his wife’s weight when he suggested she shouldn’t have ice cream. She tortured him by licking the ice cream cone with pornographic delight. The only exchanges the couple seemed capable of were clandestine attempts to destroy each other’s egos.
After the reading was over, Mona confessed that she needed help resolving issues in the story. I hadn’t realized that the man’s mistress was imaginary. The sexual exploits were so vividly descriptive, that it seemed more real than the bickering. A discussion followed, but little insight was offered on how things might be structured better. In the break that followed, Rachel Kapitan, who had been serving tea from behind the counter, walked up to Mona and started offering suggestions which the author listened to intently. She was delighted, shouting, “This is much better advice than what I have ever gotten at writing workshops.” She jotted down Rachel’s number so they could get together and chat some more. Mona’s play “The Mason Jar” will be read by the Bleeker Street Theater Company in Greenwich Village in NYC on Monday, October 4th. If you happen to be passing through NYC be sure to check it out.

Karen Russell

Karen Russell will be the featured artist at the TheDailyCity.com Mobile Art Show # 12 on Thursday, August 19th from 7 to 9pm outside the CityArtsFactory in a U-Haul truck. I first met Karen at a Kerouac House event. She had a dark brooding air about her that lead me to think she must be an artist of some kind. I have since seen her several times around town with her edgy, twisted, expressionistic, figurative work. I am always reminded of one of my favorite artists, Egon Schiele, when I see her work.
I have always loved sketching artists at work in their studios and I decided to make it a personal mission to sketch each artist that exhibits in the Mobile Art Show as a way to promote their work. Karen’s studio is located in a small ramshackle home set back far away from the road. There was a canoe in the driveway and I noticed that all the windows were painted over. When she greeted me and showed me the living room, the windows glowed with vibrant color like stained glass – only messier. There was an empty pizza box on the sofa and I heard a roommate laughing to himself in a back room.
Her studio had two mattresses on the floor, one with red sheet and one with blue sheets. She was working on a huge canvas which was leaning up against the wall. The only way I could get a sketch of her in the tight space was to crawl across the blue mattress and lean against the wall in the corner. On her laptop computer Karen played an online educational program called TED, about the flight of dragonflies across the ocean. Another program about robotics had me so fascinated that I stopped to watch for a bit.
She is working on a huge painting of Sirens. The stark, almost Egyptian poses express to me a constant mortal angst. While sketching, I liked integrating Karen’s arms as she painted, into the fray of gestures. The door and several of the walls had been punched or kicked, leaving large holes. In the hall, her work was hung at an odd angle. I felt like I was in a true artist’s garret. It wasn’t until I got to the bottom of the sketch that I noticed that the sirens were standing on a pile of human skulls, and that their feet were birds talons.

The Manteis Project

In the red room at Taste (717 Smith Street, College Park), Terry and I stayed to watch the music act that was setting up on stage after most of the artists had left from an event called Blend. The heart of the group seemed to be an Apple laptop computer which put out vibrant pulsating sound effects. There was a sitar, guitar an a wide variety of drums. A keyboardist also had a laptop open above his keyboard. They were known as the Manteis Project. Behind the group the screen displayed animated lighting patterns. The music was mesmerizing.
Kenneth Raduazzo was working the sound booth. I glanced up at the sound booth and his wife Teresa was there with him. She had recently introduced me to an ashram. A couple of artists were still working on the collaborative paintings in the room behind us. I was seated in a chair right at the foot of the stage looking up at the performers. After the performance was over, Terry and I walked back to the car and on the way we bumped into Teresa. She had decided to go for a walk to get some fresh air. I thought she and Terry must have met before at the Kerouac House but I made the introductions anyway. We talked for a while but then Teresa had to get back inside to help break down.

Tomorrow Thor will sketch an Acrylic painting demonstration at Sam Flax on Colonial Drive near Mills between 3:30PM and 5:30PM.

67 Books

In honor of National Library Week (April 11-17, 2010), Brian Feldman organized a week long performance where 67 Orange County Library System (OCLS) card holders read aloud for one hour at a time from any book they choose from the OCLS collection, on the entry roof of the Orlando Public Library downtown branch. The event is an independent production of Brian Feldman Projects and is supported through in-kind donations of area businesses and individuals, and has not been paid for by the Orange County Library System.

Every reader to this point had been taken up to the roof overlooking the entryway to the library. This area is like a large never used balcony with a grand view of the street below, and makes for an impressive staging area. Mary Hill was open to the idea of me sketching her as she read Thomas Morton‘s book “Contemplative Prayer.” She was set up with a wireless mic and she then began to read. Speakers carried her voice to any passersby, and on rare occasions someone would look up and notice her perched high above the entry. When she reached for a sip of water, a homeless man across the street threw his hands up in the air and cheered. The sun was pounding down that afternoon and I sketched from the only patch of shade on the roof. After Mary had been replaced with another reader, she said her eyes had dried out and she had trouble focusing. She laid down for a while and rested on the concrete ledge before we both went back down to ground level using the scissor lift.

Harriett Lake is a renowned Orlando philanthropist and supporter of the arts. When I discovered she was going to be a reader, I knew I had to sketch her. Her choice of “The Catcher in the Rye” was also a bit controversial since this book at times has been banned from school curricula. Harriet told Brian she couldn’t go up in the lift because of her age and slight disability. She was seated in one of the two red camping chairs Brian had set up on the street level near the computer which was mission central. Harriet needed a more comfortable chair so a wheelchair was bought out for her to sit in. Harriet’s enthusiasm for the book was evident from the start as she read a newspaper article about the book and author, J. D. Salinger. She lost her grip on the article when she finished and the paper started to blow down the street. A passerby picked it up and tried to hand it back, but she was already reading the book and didn’t notice him.

Amanda Chadwick came over with her very frightened dachshund. She tried to calm the dog, but it would jump and scurry any time there was aloud noise. In front of the public library, there are many loud noises. Ambulances rushed by, the electronic lift screeched and groaned. People exiting the library bust out with loud laughter and joking as they escape the deafening silence from inside. Through it all, Harriet read with enjoyment the small orange paperback.

She read, “Pencey was full of crooks. Quite a few guys came from these wealthy families, but it was full of crooks anyway. The more expensive school is, the more crooks it has – I’m not kidding.” Twice she stopped reading and started laughing. She shouted out, “This is a funny book, I forgot how darn funny it is.” I laughed out loud as well sharing her delight. Homeless men with backpacks and business men in suits shuffled by. A few times people stopped, surprised by all the camera equipment and lights and they listened for a brief moment before hurrying off.

She read aloud, “People never notice anything.” This seemed so appropriate as people rushed all around her always focused on a destination rather than savoring this moment here and now. Harriet was the last reader for the day and when her hour was up Brian approached her and let her know. She shouted back, “What? THAT was an hour?! It didn’t feel like an hour!” I laughed out loud again. When you’re doing something you love, time flies and life always finds a way to interrupt the process. There was magic in the moments Harriet was reading in front of the library. The fact that she was so much closer to all the activity on the street, and the fact that nothing phased her made this feel like an important and meaningful sign that art endures amidst life’s chaos.

I will be reading as part of 67 Books on Saturday April 17th from 3 to 4 PM. I am not entirely sure which book I am reading yet, but in the running are “The Fountainhead” by Ann Rand and “Book of Sketches” by Jack Kerouac. Which do you think I should read, any suggestions?