Art Walk

A week or two ago, my friend Boo emailed me, then alerted me on Facebook that I had an email waiting for me. Boo is an artist, a liberal, and a bit of a rabble-rouser. I like those traits in a person.

But back to the email: St. Petersburg has a monthly art walk in its Grand Central District. Boo and several others were planning to film several artists showing off their work in a free-form short film, and she asked if I wanted to come along. I said sure, then began wondering what the heck I was thinking. I do that a lot: I'll commit to something, then spend time wondering why I agreed to it; in the end, I'm usually glad I came along. But that's beside the point.

Boo showed up Saturday afternoon around 3:00. After bringing my camera and tripod out, we headed off. Boo had several things to drop off before we met up with the group.

It turned out we were a little early. As we waited, I wandered off a little. There was some live music nearby, and I figured I'd check it out. After listening a little and taking some photos, I asked the drummer, one Edward Burrows, the name of the group.

"Rare Phorm Band," I was told, as he handed over one of their business cards.

Quick Note: If you happen to find out that Rare Phorm Band is playing anywhere, and you get a chance, go. Definitely cool, definitely good. I hope they make it big.

Wandering back, Boo was gathering artists for filming, directing as she went along. I managed to take photos, some on her camera, some on mine, until two things happened: Boo's camera ran out of memory, and I ran out of film. Isn't that the way it goes? (Anyone who knows me well knows my one question when it comes to planning: How do you make God laugh? Tell Him your plans.)

But we continued on...We still had access to video, so that was how the rest of it went. Video was what Boo had wanted the most of, so that helped.

We were finished by maybe 7:30-ish, then hung out for an hour, gabbing away, until it was time to leave.

And yes, I'm glad I went along. Boo, if you're reading this, I'll have the pics to you by the end of the week. Edward Burrows and the Rare Phorm Band, please check back here for the photos, as well as at Robin Shwedo Productions. You might see someone you know!

So, We're a Crafty Bunch of Artists...

My daughter, M.H., stopped by this afternoon. She couldn't stay long, but she did want to drop off some stuff, as well as pick up a few things. Nothing earth-shattering.

Sometimes, though, she'll drop off craft stuff, or we'll go out and pick up a few odds and ends. It's always kind-of fun to figure out what crafty, artist-y things we'll end up with. I'm still wondering what kind of painting she did on the black canvas she picked up last month; I know what I'd paint on a one. (Note to self: Must pick up a few black canvases ASAP.)

Artistic talent runs in our family. Mom was a writer, though her writing output seems to have dwindled over the past few years. But when I was a kid growing up in New York (state, not city) decades ago, she had an old typewriter on a desk in a small out-of-the-way nook in the kitchen. I'd watch her write, then, later, as she started fixing dinner, I'd write stories on the same typewriter, hunting and pecking away. One of my job-search cover letters starts out, "I am a writer. According to certain relatives, I was born, not with a silver spoon, but a pencil in one hand and a stack of paper in the other. It took me a while to crawl to the typewriter. (Mom and Dad may have exaggerated a little.)" The apple - or writer - doesn't fall too far...

She also did quite a bit of painting over the years; I have two of her watercolor paintings of flower arrangements on my wall. Years earlier, she'd worked in oils.

Mom and I have two cousins, a brother and sister, who are also very artistic. D. had a small studio in his parents' basement for painting; his sister was also so inclined.

My paternal grandfather's artistry tended toward the mechanical workings of radios, which he repaired in his electronic repair shop for years. But on my dad's side of the family, there are definitely artists and craftsmen. (Check out Art-N-Time Creations.)

My oldest son, J.A., also has a painting hanging on the same wall as his grandmother's watercolors. It's a really cool oil painting of a sunset, and looks like it's of the Southwestern U.S. I've had numerous people admire it; they're almost always surprised upon hearing that J.A. was 13 when he painted it, it's that good. He's now trying his hand at craft beers, with thoughts of eventually starting a microbrewery. (Butternut squash ale, anyone?) I wish he also kept up with the painting, too. He also wrote a lot; I keep running across old notebooks of his with stories and drawings in them.

My younger two, who still live at home, also write. A lot.

Getting back to M.H...When she discovered that some of my old acrylic paints were no longer usable, she decided it was time for us to get some more. Ditto on stuff to make Sculpey creations.

Note: For anyone who is unfamiliar with Sculpey, it's a type of polymer clay that is hardened in a regular oven. I first heard of it from my ex-, who used to make beads with it, then hand out bracelets to various people. I've also used it to make all sorts of creations. (Here is one of the sites for Sculpey.)

The next thing that M.H. and I have to pick up is a bucket of sand; since M.H. lives near the beach (remember the Tampa Bay (Car) Triangle fiasco?), that shouldn't be a problem. Between that and a bunch of shells (both whole and in pieces), we'll be making a bunch of sand candles. We won't get into my photography and videos (you could check out http://robinshwedoproductions.weebly.com).

Sand candles, Sculpey creations, paintings, writing, ale, time piecs, photography, videos...we're just a crafty bunch of artists.

Best laid plans of...

Q: How do you make God laugh?

A: Tell Him your plans.

Yesterday was one of those days where it seemed nothing was going as planned, or, at least, not much went that way. At this point in my life, I should be used to that. You go and make these great plans - or maybe some mediocre ones, but plans, anyway - and the universe and God laugh.

Several of the artists who'd had studios at Salt Creek Artworks were having an open house at their new studios/buildings. Salt Creek Artworks closed last year; it's a rather long story, but the punchline is that the economy didn't help. There were meetings with the city of St. Petersburg in the hopes of finding a place where the core group could stay together in one place. There were several members who, for whatever reason, wouldn't be making the move with the group. One artist moved out of state; another lived in Tampa and, when it became apparent that Salt Creek would close, decided to stay closer to home. The reasons for leaving the group were as varied as the people drifting off. It wasn't that they didn't care, but, perhaps, that some of them cared too much and found the displacement too painful.

Disclaimer: I had had a studio for a little over a year at Salt Creek Artworks, from February, 2011 until April, 2012. I started out in a huge studio, replete with shelves in one corner for holding supplies, lights, and ceiling fans. The studio had no heat or air conditioning, but that didn't bother me. In many ways, it reminded me of my Grandfather's radio repair shop in White Plains, New York, which folded following his death in the mid-1960s: It was part of a warehouse, had cement floors, and a very cool, funky feel that encouraged joy in one's work. At one point, I'd planned to leave Salt Creek, but found that one of the other studios had become available. It was literally right around the corner from the huge one, was somewhat smaller, had air conditioning and heat, one good-sized window to the outside, and brightly painted lime-green-and-white walls. It was directly across the hall from Herb Davis, a friendly, laid-back painter. Herb usually had a radio on in his studio while creating; the low hum of voices during the talk shows, as well as the music, was somehow comforting. Most of the other artists were cool to be around - busy with their work, but always friendly, with that interesting way of looking at things that helps when one is creating.

See? There's the plan-thing. I hadn't meant to drift off into Salt Creek memories, but anyone who's ever been associated with it will understand. But back to the plans for the day...

I'd planned to have a yard sale the first half of the day. I had tons of stuff to get rid of, and figured I could use the money. I'd actually been threatening to have it for several weeks, but always managed to find a way out of it: M. started work, so I'd have no one to watch the sale while I went to put up signs, J. tends to sleep days and stay awake nights, the weather wasn't quite right, or I was just plain not into it. After all, I really don't mind going to yard sales (I love 'em), but I hate having them. You've got to set up tables, or whatever you're placing the stuff on. (Let's face it, we've all seen yard sales where people simply put their stuff on the ground - piles of clothes, tons of knick-knacks, dishes, etc. - and you're expected to bend over and pick through that pile of stuff from the ground; no thanks.) Then you cart all the stuff out, and hope you don't forget to bring something out that you've really wanted to get rid of for months (but you always forget something, anyway), price them, then wait for people to show up and either buy everything or s-l-o-w-l-y drive by while you mutter, "Stop, stop, stop, come back and buy something" under your breath. Then, when you're finished, you have to put whatever is left over back into the boxes, etc. that you carried them out in, put them away, put the tables away...It's really a pain, especially if you haven't sold that much.

As it turned out, J. had changed his sleeping cycle a few days before, so I figured he'd be up by 7:30 or 8-ish. So, right after M. left for work, I showered, put a load of laundry into the washer, then told J. to get a move on it. He let out a groaned okay, then, apparently, went back to sleep. After I'd gotten the tables and stuff out to put the yard sale stuff on, I made sure he was awake, since he'd need to watch the yard sale while I put up a couple of signs.

We kept at it until shortly after noon; by then, we'd had enough. Very few people were stopping, or even driving by. One neighbor who always stops by all neighborhood yard sales (he and his wife apparently sell stuff on Ebay or at the local flea market) mentioned that at most of the yard sales he'd stopped by that morning, he was either the only person there or one of only two.

"Usually, yard sales are packed, especially if they have signs up," he commented. "The ones I went to today were dead!" That was encouraging!

On the plus side, we made $10. On the down side...$10! (Anyone who's ever had a yard sale knows that good ones bring in good money.) We packed up everything...

I'd also planned to go to the two grand openings/open house last night for several members from the Salt Creek group. Two of the artists are in a place they've named Works in Progress Art Studios and GGallery, located at 24 - 22nd Street South in St. Pete, while several others are at Arts Central at 2109 Central Avenue in St. Pete.

When I first learned that Salt Creek Artworks would be closing, I'd started video taping the building, artists, the meetings to find a place for everyone...the whole "we're losing this really great place" experience. I'd planned to give the artists (those who wanted one) a copy of the DVD, as well as Salt Creek's owner. I'm still working on it...but one of the artists from Works In Progress had asked if I'd bring over a DVD with what I had so far so that it could play during the grand opening. I'd said sure, that'd be great and started looking over the stuff I'd filmed. While I had looked through the tapes months ago, taking copious notes on what to use, what wouldn't be used, and what might be used as filler, I wanted to find the right stuff to put together. I'd already put together a short piece, but wanted something better.

So, after the yard sale, I started working hard at putting together a second piece to hand to C.D. at Works in Progress. One of my possible rides wouldn't be able to help out, as she had to work; another couldn't do it, either. In short, four possible rides were all unavailable.

I called C.D. up and explained, then offered to finish putting together something, posting it online, then sending her a copy of the link. "That'll work," she agreed. "Too bad you couldn't make it, though. Call me next week, okay?"

So I went to work, and spent several hours putting together something decent, and definitely a lot better than the one I'd already posted online. I was really happy with the way things were progressing with it, even though it was taking hours to put it together.

Then M. called. He'd gotten off work, and was going to take the buses home. (It takes at least three buses for him to get home from work.) He planned to take two particular buses; pulling up the schedules online (which meant ignoring what I was putting together), I noticed that doing that was pushing it just a tad. Heck, it was majorly pushing it, since the last bus would arrive where he'd get off the second bus theoretically one minute after he got off; any hold up or delay on that second bus, and he'd have to wait over an hour for the next bus. But if he took this other route, he might have to wait half-an-hour for that last bus, but there'd be less chance of missing connections.

"No, it'll be okay," he assured me. Except that, of course, it wasn't. He missed the last bus...All told, there were numerous calls so I could check another bus schedule, another this or that...All the while, I was saving my work on the Salt Creek thing...up until that last call. At that point, I accidentally hit the X in the corner of the film program...the X that means you've closed the program...the program, along with the work that I'd spend hours on and hadn't posted anywhere.

I couldn't yell at M. I understood his panic. I was a little panicky, too, envisioning all sorts of stuff: accidents, a police cruiser pulling up to see if I knew M., the whole bit. It was getting dark out, M. has no night vision, and he doesn't move terribly fast. So, was I worried? Heck, yeah!

He finally made it home safely, apologized for the panic, the work, etc. He also mentioned that the next Saturday that he has to work, he'll take the buses I suggested.

So much for plans... :)