Murals

The murals are going well I have a circus scene in the works at the warehouse on 36th street rocking above three graffiti writers whom I really respect. I hope to do the peices justice. While painting the warehouse, I talked with the local homeless gentleman. His name was William. He has set his mind to teaching me his craft; the art of palm (frond) weaving. I have sat down with him once and have learned a lot already. 

This afternoon Johnny came by the warehouse wall and offered another wall which he'd already begun in Wynwood. I agreed to join him, some change in scenery couldn't hurt. 

Johnny had already started the wall the day prior. It looked like an acid trip. We talked about it a bit then went to work, interpreting forms and shapes as they came. We worked well into the night. The Second Saturday Art Walk event was happening, so there was a constant stream of spectators and friends. I met a dear old friend from Tallahassee tonight which was such a blessing. 

My friend and hotel-mate, Optimum, has secured a few fine art portrait gigs and such has decided to stay in town for another week. I agreed with his logic in staying. I believe I could stay here also. I'll give it a try. 

Post-Basel

I spent the final days of Art Basel hanging out in Wynwood. As the story usually goes for me, what seemed like an opportunity to do nothing quickly filled with things to do. I found myself bicycling quickly around to meet with friends (new and old) for lunch or coffee, or to help somehow with their projects. I met many incredible people, and artists. 

As the festivities began to wind down, friends began to go back to their homes. The party came to a close. I found myself alone again, and I was greatful. I rode around Wynwood, with all of my posessions in a pack on my back, and in a box I carried under my arm. I spiraled out from the main drag into the surrounding neighborhoods. I thought to casually find my way to a bus station where I would buy a departing ticket. After some time, I found myself in the design district, where I recognized my friend Kalinska installing a mural. I approached her and struck up a conversation. She got the gig to paint this one final wall (for commission) before she left town. I wished her the best of luck, then carried on with my bike ride. I circled the building and was excited to see the other side being painted with graffiti murals. I recognized my friend, See, and hollered out to him. He explained that he and some friends had just essentially legally commomdeered the building for a mural project, and that there was likely empty space if I wanted to collaborate on it. I agreed with excitement. Johnny, the boss of the project, came down the ladder from the rooftop that he was painting. He looked through my sketchbook and some photos of my work to see if I was up to snuff. I passed the litmus test. He showed me a section of wall where I could start. The wall in question was beautifully painted with four letter pieces from old school New York writers. I shook Johnny's hand before heading off to a nearby hotel. I knew that this job would require more than a day. I checked in to the hotel, bought paint, returned to the wall, and began that evening. 

I started with a letter piece in the top left corner to block in a big empty space. The space was narrow so I thought either to do an elongated character or an elongated letter piece. I chose the latter because the balance of the wall I felt depended on it. After the piece, I sketched a hand on the opposite side of the wall. The sketch was lovely, so I left it to be finished later. I began filling in big sections of the background of the wall with color, creating compositions which assisted the flow of the eye across the wall in an infinity symbol fashion. The wall was coming out well. 

I spent that night at the hotel. In the morning I felt an itch. Perhaps I was allergic to the spraypaint as it came into contact with my skin..

I spent that whole day painting. Another night in the hotel. My skin was itching and I began to feel assured that I was reacting to something.. 

I spent the entirety of the next day painting. In the evening, I met Optimum, another painter from New York. He was a charachter. He wore a tophat and had many exciting stories to tell. Johnny kept us company for some time before leaving to visit his lady friend. Optimum and I finished painting for the night. I offered to hos thim in my hotel room if he wanted a place to sleep. He agreed. I told him about my itching sking and inquired if it could be an allergic reaction to paint. He said that it looked more like bug bites, perhaps bed bugs. We stripped the beds and searched for bed bug signs, but found nothing. Slightly paranoid, we climbed into our respective beds and turned in for the night. 

In the morning, I awoke to Optimum's shouting, "Dogg, wake up! Bedbugs!"

It was true, the room was infested with bedbugs. We turned on the lights and began searching in the sheets. Optimum went right into action mode documenting the scene for legal amunition if the situation called for it. We found two bugs crawling in the sheets, and catured them as specimens for evidence. We went to the front desk of the hotel and asked for our money back. I was refunded one nights' worth but was declined the full three nights' payment, as the manager was off premises at the time. We agreed to wait for the manager, as we had a strong case. When the manager arrived, Optimum and I recounted our experiences. He noted that if I did not complain the first night, then I failed to identify the problem and therefore was not able to recieve reimbursement for the stay. I emphasized to him how thus far I had been cooperative and sompassionate to the hotel's situation, and that I had yet to tell any other guest about the situation, or for that matter use the word 'bedbug'. I told him that I meant to be respectfull, but that I intend to recieve full reimbursement for the duration of my stay. I then turned around, unzipped my jacket, and showed him my back. I had around 50 bites across my back. It looked awful. I put my jacket back on and turned to face him. His expression showed concern. I could see him processing the potential lawsuit. He agreed to my terms, and I recieved full compensation for the stay. On our way out, we saw that the room was being stripped and prepared for treatment. 

We went to the wall and painted all day. Optimum painted over my sketched hand to put up a character. His seniority assured that I would not second guess his decision, though it drastically changed the dynamics that I felt pulled the wall together. In the evening, we did our laundry, then checked in to another hotel. 

Miami

Miami has been a bad trip then a good trip. The quality here is astounding.  I had the most beautiful experience talking with new friends tonight that brought clarity. I wish to send a blessing to you my friends and family something that I find high in quality.

 

http://innerislands.bandcamp.com/album/dark-river-welcome-light

Fence Spot

Today I rode to the beach with Shaun, Overstreet and Murphy for brunch. after parking and reserving a table, we took separate pre-meal walks. On my walk I met my friends who where out and about trying to rent a scooter. They had no license and asked me to help them with the rental paperwork. I obliged and went with them to the nearest scooter rental place. The rental was a success. 

Later I went to Wynwood to walk around. I came across a mesh fence in a cutty alleyway with tags on it. It was well lit and close enough to the main drag that it had a constant stream of viewers. I thought it would be a great place for a piece. I bought a couple cans of Kobra paint and banged out a piece. The alleyway immediately improved the more work I did. It felt good to be a positive influencer of experience and interpretation. 

I met a guy named Thor who was an incredible artist at the beginning stages of a notable art career. I stayed out talking with him until 5.

Bicycle Trip

I flew back to Florida to spend a lovely thanksgiving with my parents and Grandmother, Donna. 

I appreciated the time for readjustment and processing of the trip, as I'd been away from my parents home for four months. It was refreshing to take a shower with hard water and shampoo.  

I felt that it was good to have a small Thanksgiving. I was happy to have time to speak with Donna, I'm learing from her wisdom and courageousness. 

After Thanksgiving proper, my mother and I began decorating for Christmas. I helped with stringing lights around the house and made an illuminated representation of a Christmas Tree around a royal palm tree. I planned to go to Miami for Art Basel with some friends. The first rideshare option, with friends Bobby and Morrison seemed like too an elaborate a plan. As a result, my stay with my parents was prolonged, which gave me time to finish a few projects. I was happy to have this time to organize and plan the next steps. I planned to take a bicycle trip to Miami, over the course of three days. When I reviewed this to my parents, I felt that the idea was not recieved with openess. My father was conderned with the lack of bicycle trails and my mother was concerned with the saftey of areas of Miami. I thought their concerns were unfouded, but we came to a compromise when we researched other options. The new plan was to leave from Lakeland, Florida. I would ride my bike the 80 miles south beginning early the following morning. 

Today I woke early, as the bike trip was posed to be a race against the clock. My mother generously offered to drive me an hour out of town to give me a head start, which I happily accepted. We stopped in front of a bike shop, situated to the Withlacoochee Trail, the longest bicycle trail in Florida. Our timing was perfect, as I had a break pad fall off of the bike while assembling it at the same time as the owner of the bike shop arrived for his morning routine (an hour before his shop would open its doors). He offered me a replacement brake pad for one dollar. I fixed the new brake pad into place, said goodbye and thank you to my mother, and was off. 

I made it to the end of Florida's longest bicycle trail after 30 miles. (note: I started halfway through), before reaching a two lane highway with a narrow shoulder. I rode the narrow shoulder for five miles or so. It was a nightmare. The cars that did see me, often were not respectful of giving me distance. I made it to Dade City, where I began to explore my options. I came across an Amtrak station, which upon inquiry, I learned was no longer in service. I learned however, to counter this, Amtrak had a bus taxi departing at noon to connect with the next train stop. I was on hold on the phone with Amtrak for some time before deciding that I would be better off hitchiking if I did it right. I went to a nearby gas station and saw two respectable looking gentlemen. I approached them and asked if they were going south and if so, I could jump in for a lift. I offered them 15 bucks. Their names were Paul and Mike and they were on their way to Fort Lauterdale. I dissassembled my bike and jumped in. They were very friendly and Mike and I shared good conversation about the harmful dogmatism of the local forestry department. They dropped me off in Lakeland, where I reassembled my bike and rode to the Amtrak station. I checked my bike and boarded the train. 

Basel, Miami

I'm at art Basel and hustling for walls. No big wins yet but a few good small ones. Sleeping very little. Eating well. Hanging with old friends and meeting plenty of new ones! 

Iceland

I arrived in Amsterdam with only a few hours to spare. I tried to call Josine to no avail. I would not be able to re-visit Bloemgracht. I grabbed lunch at an incredible burger joint before meeting up with my beautiful lady friend, Leah, in Dam Square.

Upon walking into Dam Square, I recognized Leah immediately. She was donning an alpaca hat, a rather substantial one. We found a hostel for the night. In the morning we went to the Noordermarkt to try to equip ourselves for adventures ahead; later that day we would board a flight to Iceland. Leah sought to complete her alpaca look. After some time, we found a full length coat made from faux white fur. It was beautiful. Truly.

We boarded our flight and landed in Keflavik a few hours later. Leah had reserved a car, but we made a choice to downgrade to a more affordable, two-wheel drive manual transmission vehicle upon learning the conversion rates- not favorable. We shifted the rental into my name, and opted out of the insurance plan. I figured since we were already on top of a bunch of shifting tectonic plates and volcanos we were already in sort of deep-might as well go all in. I did not know how to drive stick, but had plenty of experience with driving motorcycles.

In Iceland, everything was magical. The drive from the airport was magical. The landscape, the food, the people. We fell in love.

We reserved seven days to circumnavigate the island, counterclockwise around highway 1, or the 'ring road'. Our plans were no plans. We stayed the first two nights in Reykjavik, preparing for the journey ahead. Both Leah and I bought boots, as our sneakers proved insufficient even for the snow in and around Iceland's largest town. We went to a convenience store where we bought supplies for the road: a lighter, yoghurt, cheese, bread, and dehydrated fish. Setting out, we didn't know what we were in store for, but we'd seen previews from our short drives the days prior. On the third day, we bought a Björk album, and a book of Icelandic folk tales, and set out. I felt that Björk guided the journey. perhaps I cannot describe it to it's fullest, but I felt as though the one album, gosh I don't even know the name of it, was our trip. It was confusing at first. Neither Leah or I knew much about what was happening; such a foreign place, such a foreign experience. As some time passed, it became clear that we were being romanced. We fell for it and after one week had passed, we found ourselves only half way around the ring road. We cancelled our flights and extended by a week. We began to know the Björk album quite well, as we listened to it on repeat. There was a chorus sequence on the album which without fail would inspire me to look out of the car window at a landscape that mesmerized me like nothing else. As I type this, I can feel the energy form the rocks, I can see the Icelandic horses. I remember hours of driving in the mountains, where all you could see was white white white white white, with yellow markers noting the shoulders of the road on either side and stopping the car five times within an hour to just walk to a rock or a small waterfall, which probably did not have a name, but was more beautiful than  anything. We spent the night at a horse lodge. We swam in geothermic pools whenever we got the chance. We woke up early and drove to the shore of a frozen river to watch the sun rise over distant mountains. We threw snowballs. We checked into a hotel where there was no one else staying; we were the duke and the duchess. We explored trails. We fed wild horses. We sat by a lighthouse a the edge of the world and talked about death. We ate well. We slept in. We took time.

Another week passed. Leah flew out one day before I.

After Leah flew out, I drove back to downtown Reykjavik. I grabbed a cup of coffee at a cafe that we'd become acquainted with in our first days. I'd met a gentleman there who was working on a beautiful drawing. His name was Steindor. He was full of great insights about Iceland. I hoped to see him there again on what was to be my last night in Iceland. It was a couple hours into my cafe visit that Steindor walked in and came to my table. We struck up conversation as if no time had passed. I mentioned that I would like to spend my last night out in the car somewhere away from the city lights. He noted that there were several places that would be suitable, and offered to show me if I gave him a ride. We walked to the rental car and got in . We spent the next two hours driving around Reykjavik while he told stories of different areas of the town, and in what ways Iceland has changed in the past ten years. Steindor spoke with authority, and his opinions were sound. He illustrated the financial crisis and Iceland's recent shift in economic priorities towards tourism (rater than fishing). We came to a rural area where he said I would likely be safe, noting that the only other people out here were smoking weed or having car sex. Seemed like a fine camping spot to me. We went back into town, where I dropped Steindor off at his house. I drove around for a long time, revisiting all of the areas which Steindor had made note of, preparing for the cold night ahead. I made my way into the wilderness on a single lane road. The road became unpaved, and after some time I found a pull-off that would be suitable for a night's rest. The sky was overcast, no romantic stars. It was a cold night, and during my sleep I periodically awoke from chill to restart the car and heat up the cabin again.

In the morning, I took a walk. As was a theme for Leah and I, I was pleasantly surprised by my surroundings upon waking, as they had been shrouded by darkness prior. The landscape was astounding. Mosses over volcanic rock, virgin snow patches remained in the shadows of trees. Small pools of water reflected blue morning sky from atop boulders. I came across two large caves, and walked slowly back into its dark interior. My eyes slowly adjusted and I took a seat. An immense experience. I left.