Dial Tone defies Debby: a sensory recap

Originally published in This Week in Sarasota

 

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve become a somewhat obsessive fan of the unique local project The End of the Dial Tone Radical Experimental Collaborative Music Band Band. It’s pretty serious — to the point of attending as many as humanly possible since my first encounter one year ago. I’ve also spent considerable energy as well as some of my “TWIS voice” musing on the intricate dynamics, mysterious essence and compelling local value of this monthly creative phenomenon. (See this article, and this one.)

True  to my obsession, last Monday I joined about 60 other Sarasota souls who braved tropical storm Debby’s blustery gales and sheets of rain to soak up yet another Dial Tone experience out at Jake’s Tavern on Clark Road.

Unlike past articles, this time I’m going to step back and simply let the images, words, sounds and feelings captured in those images and words speak for themselves.

I’ve attempted to give this string of media a flow to mirror that of the show itself, from beginning to end.

The following are excerpts of poetry by Steve McAllister, Zachariah “Skylab” McNaughton and Lois Betterton, which weave together the photos and artwork of the visual talent present — all recruited by the diligent organizer-facilitator John Lichtenstein.

There’s actually a wealth of additional creative output; be sure to check out “further reading” at the end and follow the project on Facebook to stay connected and experience this for yourself at the next show on July 31.

 

*  *  *

 

The End of the Dial Tone Radical Experimental Collaborative Band Band

June 25, 2012

Jake’s Tavern, Sarasota

Steve McAllister:

 

It starts as it always does

a driving beat to kick things off

it builds as the sounds progresses, driving toward anywhere

but nowhere is the destination on the journey to now

as the rhythm builds

~

Live art by Eric de Barros.

 

Mike Murphy on drums. Photo by Scott Braun.

TEOTDRECMBB organizer John Lichtenstein. Photo by Scott Braun.

~

the fevered pitch of crescendo and the unmitigated absolution of the purity of the moment

the rampant cacophony of egos diminishing in the sound of the collective

all sounds wrestling with silence

as the notes find their place in the infinite

and music is breathed into existence

life is breathed into being

we are born into us

as the undulations of musical ecstasy take us further into manifesting what is not there

~

Guitarist Johnnie Barker. Photo by Matt Gunter.

~

The moment is not broken

the dial tone still buzzes

as messages are called through the bullhorn of destiny

before it is laid to rest

~

John Lichtenstein and his trusty megaphone. Photo by Matt Gunter

~

and the music continues

the electric clamour exploring its channels of expression

against the pounding of sticks and hands

the torment of percussion beating out the path

Words wait silently

rocking back and forth

awaiting their birth

awaiting the existence of the next phase

awaiting a direction for the course

~

Lalo. Photo by Matt Gunter.

 

Steve McAllister writing. Photo by Scott Braun.

Steve Apostoli on hand drums. Photo by Scott Braun.

 

Garret Roberts on keys. Photo by Scott Braun.

~

at last she wails, the angel of ink bleeding into the microphone

her words blend like a velvet fold over the rambunctious

a flurry of unbridled sentiment in a race toward greater expression

and so it goes

Ink and paint are guided with hand and brush

fingers on keys bring more music than can be heard

as words are created in subtext

against the animalistic drive toward feeling

~

Kari Bunker on vocals. Photo by Scott Braun.

Urban Spiral Dance Company dancer. Photo by Scott Braun.

~

this music sets the pace

this music guides the pen

this music brings the people

it is where it all begins

~

Live art by Van Jazmin.

 

Photo by Matt Gunter.

Artist Hunter Slade. Photo by Matt Gunter.

Live art by Eric De Barros.

 

Live art by Eric De Barros

~

the eyes make contact, but it is the heart that connects

for this is beyond connection

this is the maelstrom of collaboration

beyond the pale of tropical storms and the meager winds she brings

~

Artist Hunter Slade.

~

the storm that builds here is pure energy

where the winds of change meet their mark

and the world is changed forever

while all things stay the same

~

 

Ryan O’Neill. Photo by Scott Braun.

 

Johnnie Barker. Photo by Scott Braun.

Artist Sishir Bommakanti. Photo by Van Jazmin.

~

for the music always plays on

even as the tone diminishes

And even after the music fades to a din

the dial tone echoing its death rattle into the chasm

the beat continues

a relentless vibration against the stillness of the never-ending closure of what once was

and from the depth of the reverb in some shadow of fragrance that rises from the ether and gives the earth cause to dance

~

Live art by Eric De Barros.

~

the rhythm continues

the undulations go on

and the pure vibrant sexuality of nature

unsheaths herself from the shackles we beset her with

and rises like a serpentine phoenix

from the ashes of forever into the blossoming now

between the bosoms of sound and silence.

 

– View the full poem at Steve’s blog, InkenSoul.

*   *   *

 

On-site typewriter. Photo by Matt Gunter

*  *  *

POETRY BY ZACHARIAH MCNAUGHTON:

 

*  *  * 

Live art by Van Jazmin.

 

*  *  *

 POETRY:

Excerpt from “Crashing Through the Looking Glass and Landing on a Surrealistic Pillow”

by first-time attendee Lois Betterton

 

Universes no longer parallel, diagonally rotating on the horizontal and colliding with bouncy black leather couches in a giant dark room with drums beating randomly at first.  Then becoming a rhythmic chant without human words, with jungle words.  No, not words, not words at all.

Bling, blong, bling, bling, bam…electronica joins in as unjazz, infusion of unfuzion, unjazzy, and yet beginning to form…Something.  Like the lightshows at the Fillmore only with sound; swirling colors of sound, like giant pinwheels or bubblegum or cotton candy infused with candied apples, crazy to the core.
And a pretty tiny faerie with Animee pigtails begins to spin electric hula hoops, blazing rainbow hula hoops that morph into giant pink flags, cautionary flags of butterfly wings twirling and enveloping her.  Wrapping her up and then flying away in the sounds that fly by and that relentless beating.  Heartless beating, booming without a soul or a heart…primal in every way.
And, oh no, now a tall lanky bearded giraffe-man in furry horned helmet with…what???  Tiny glowing hula hoops!  Twirling them…he’s three times the faerie’s size and yet his hoops are half the size of hers.
That’s an impossible geometry I’m witnessing right there.  I think the barometric pressure has affected my brain, has removed any and all signs of equilibrium.  And all my senses have become a blurr.

 

 

Photo by Lois Betterton.

 

*   *   *

Next time, I urge you: don’t just get the re-cap — experience it for yourself!

NEXT SHOW:   July 31 at Growler’s Pub, 9 pm.  

FURTHER READING:

To see more (yes more!) footage and creative output from last week’s show and to stay updated on the talent line-up and more for future shows, go to the T.E.O.T.D.T.R.E.C.M.B.B. Facebook Page and hit “Like.”

CONTRIBUTOR LINKS:

– Poetry –

Lois Betterton

Steve McAllister

Zachariah Skylab McNaughton

– Art –

Eric De Barros

Sishir Bommakanti

Van Jazmin

Hunter Slade

 

– Photography –

Scott Braun

Matt Gunter

 

Posted in Being an Artist, Building Community, Local Events, Music, Published Articles, Stories Behind Artwork | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Why Tango? Conversation with my neighbor, Albert Rombold

Interview: Albert Rombolt

Owner and Instructor, Tango & Salsa Dance Studio

Gillespie Park/Rosemary District Neighborhood

6/15/12

 

April Doner (TWIS):
One of the things I noticed about you before I ever me you was that you’re always sitting outside in a chair, and that always rerally struck me because  I think it’s nice when people sit outside, I think it makes it more human-feeling. So I was wondering, why do you choose to sit outside your studio?

Albert Rombold:  First of all, I like to be outside. Second of all, I am smoking sometimes, and I can do that not so much inside my studio. And, it gives me contact to people. People ask me about the dance studio and all that — it’s good advertisement for the studio to sit outside like that.   (AD) Have you met any people that have come to dance here?   Yes, I met them outside in the cars, they  ask me and I give them cards. Not all of them, not a lot of them, but some of them, yes. They came.

How long have you had the studio?
It’s now 17 months. I went through this recession, and I’m still standing. It’s still working.

Did you have a studio before you came here?
I was a dance teacher for 10 years in Sarasota in ballroom studios and because I didn’t want to do that anymore, I started the studio.  It’s because of “selling dance” instead of making it happen that people can enjoy dance.  That’s the difference with what I do in this studio. I make it affordable for $100 a month membership fee, people can come whenever they want.  So, in a ballroom studio you pay $85 an hour, and we were instructed as ballroom teachers to not teach–to sell.  And, this is not my philosophy. I want to create couples. I want to create good dancers.

And I have a small studio, I don’t pay a lot of rent, I can do a good price for my students and they’rre all happy. It’s growing slowly by slowly.  How many do you have right now?  Now at the moment I have thirteen. It’s actually the highest number in 16 months now.  That’s a lucky number too [laughing].  Yeah–fifty is more lucky!   So that’s a really great deal — $100 per month instead of one class for $85.

Yeah, the thing is–when you do a group lesson somewhere else in a dance school, you have mostly everyone [there for the] first time. And then you have, out of ten people 6 beginners, 4 girls or so know something, and mostly every group lesson you go [to], it’s a new start because you have to help somebody, or–but you do not really grow. And the only way growing in dancing is practicing a lot.

And, the people who come here, they form couples a lot of times, they find somebody. Out of thirty people we have 14 men. That’s amazing at that moment. I’ve not every time had something like that–and fourteen committed men.  Our age group is between twenty-two and fifty, and that’s very good too–we have very active people. It comes together like I wanted it.

How did you get started dancing?

When I was 18 years old, my mother forced me. She said, “You have to take a dance lesson with your sister.” And, I said, “No, I don’t want that because I’m a man.” [laughing] I played soccer, actually. But she said she’d pay for my driver’s license if I’d do that, and it was a good deal for me because, especially in Germany that is very expensive. And, yes, then I did that. My sister danced two years and I danced my whole life. I stayed dancing my whole life, I did nothing else.

Did you know at your first class that you loved it?

I was lucky to have a teacher who was world champion in the dance category, and he would teach in the studio too, and he told me immediately I would have a talent and I could do something with it. And it was like a mentor the first year–the first two years.   What was his name?  Renee Sagarra. He was–ah, it’s in Europe, nobody knows him here. He mentored me, he helped me a lot, and he pushed me actually. But, it was very fast clear that I would be successful in what I was doing. And I lived [off of] it since I was 18 years old.

And so how did you start?  Did you dance in competition?

Ah–you go there–I didn’t want to talk about it but it’s OK. [laughing] It is “Rock Acrobatique” dance sport. In Europe it’s big.  In United States, it doesn’t exist because of liability insurance and sueing possibilities and it’s a very risky–for the audience, not me–very risky acrobatic sport.  And, yes I was World Champion, German Champion twice and all that.

And then, I went to Costa Rica, made a little of real estate, stopped dancing because I thought I was too old (I was 31).  And, what a mistake. I…started a different life, and after 11 years in Costa Rica, Sarasota dance studio owner from Dance Fuzion Patrick Johnson saw me dancing again, like for fun, in Costa Rica and asked me if I want to come over here and dance.  Oh that’s so cool! What a coincidence.

Yeah, it’s like–it’s funny. And I had nothing at the moment, I got divorced in Costa Rica and I thought I knew the next step would be America, and I said, “Why not” and came over.  I started again–dancing ballroom, teaching ballroom.

I was not very interested in teaching ballroom. I wanted to bring my sport to the United States but I figured out very soon it was not possible because of liability insurance and all that.  I stuck with my job and I liked it for awhile, but I did not like the sales aspect of it, that you really have to take the lifeblood out of students [that makes] them have fun.  And then I thought, “I have to find a way to open a studio that I can still live with, be as a teacher, but the students always have an opportunity–a real opportunity to practice.  And I think slowly by slowly, it will grow.  

It sounds like you have a good following. Have you found Sarasota to be a good place to start?

I think Sarasota is a wonderful place. I guess in a city like Miami if I would do that I might be more successful maybe because there’s way more people, way more youth, way more interest because of the amount of people. But, I started in Sarasota and I feel home, and I said “I can do that here too. I just have to get a small amount of young people to dance, and I can do that.”  But it’s getting better and better all the time.

What have you found to be the most effective way to find people so far?

It’s all word of mouth. Because in other studios–I had a studio earlier in Sarasota but it went down, it was early in the recession. I wanted to go the ballroom way, a lot of private lessons, high money and all that, but it didn’t pay off–especially when the recession began.  And, we did advertisement. We paid the yellow books, we paid Herald Tribune and invested more money it never came back. The only thing that comes back is when people are happy, when they love you, when they like to dance with you, when they see success in what they’re doing.  Then they will talk to their friends.

It takes a long time, it’s been 16 months now, to feel stable a little bit for the first time and it will take another 16 months now, but I have people who love to come here already who have been here over the 16 months, they’ve stayed.

Not all of them, of course–only the most committed, they stay.  But I don’t care about most because I want to create. I want to do something with it.  And you cannot do something if somebody is just wanting to dance for a month and says, “OK I’m socially OK now, I can dance outside.”  Yes, I do that too–and welcome to everyone, but I’m interested in creating something professional, something who is not just a small social dancer. I want to create good couples. This is my goal.

And so, how do you like being in this neighborhood? ‘Cause this is my neighborhood too–what’s your feeling, what do you like about it?
Oh I like that Rosemary District is very near to downtown. And when I drink a coffee it takes me two minutes.  Where do you go?  At Pastry Art, maybe, or Mattison’s sometimes.  It’s a good neighborhood and it deserves to get help a little bit. Through the recession you can see Central Ave, businesses are closing. You see it on Main Street too, you see it everywhere. I hope that it comes back because it’s a nice neighborhood, it’s a beautiful neighborhood. There are very interesting people here.

Why do you love Tango?

[laughs]  Why do I love Tango…?  OK…

[With] my Rock  Acrobatique stuff it was a totally different story. It was nothing about feeling, has nothing to do with salon dancing. It was rock and roll.  It’s rough, it’s flying it’s fun, it’s everything. It gave me my youth–I’m still in my youth really–it satisfied me totally because I was like a little body-builder, I wanted to get stronger. It was something special. So ballroom for me is nothing special, because everybody’s doing it.

When I was in Miami three years ago and I tried to dance Rock Acrobatique again with a Russian girl there, I found her there. She danced in the 90’s  in Europe too, she was world class too–and we came together, we tried, we practiced, but that didn’t work out because she had two little kids and a business so not enough time to practice.

But on the other side of the street was an Argentine Tango studio and thought, “OK with my spare time, I have to do something.”  And I was interested. And now since this day now, it’s never let me go because Argentine Tango is creative. The man is in charge. The man has to play with the music. The man has to lead the girl [so] that she feels good. And the girl has to–I don’t know if it’s the right word, I say it always–submit totally to the man.

It sounds like macho or something like that but actually the girl’s feeling better on it than everybody else.  This is what came out of it later on because–I mean, in every dance the woman is the follower, she has to follow. One cook has to be on the soup, not two cooks–it’s not working. But in Argentine Tango it’s so extreme, the woman is like a musical instrument and the  man plays the musical instrument according to the music, and if you find this feeling one time, if you as a man the feeling to be in charge, and the woman feels to be stroked the whole time. Even if she’s not stroked.

It looks sensual but it–there should  be no touch actually, in Argentine Tango. Everybody thinks, “Oh they’re making love on the dance floor”–it’s not like this. It’s all illusion–it should be illusion.  Some others, they don’t make illusion out of it, but I mean the tease is the fun of it. It asks for creativity of a man and for the woman to give totally up for three minutes. She has to give up everything, and so every thought she has, everything. She just has to go with the flow. And when you achieve that, you never give up Argentine Tango because it’s the best feeling you ever can have.

Well, it’s interesting because we did a couple of hours the other week and it just really made me stretch my listening and responding–you know, really really listening.  And sometimes I feel like in our culture, we celebrate so much to be assertive and aggressive and–that’s a wonderful thing, you know, to be able to control and direct something, but I think that an equally valuable skill is the ability to listen and the ability to respond.  

So, in my mind, if we can be in the modern world and try to be equal as men and women in the world, I look at it  as, “OK, now’s my chance to practice really listening and really responding–as a human being.”  It doesn’t have to be that I’m not powerful, because I’m powerful if I’m able to listen. I don’t know how you feel about that…

No, I have heard that before.  I have a student, she opened a business, a big business. She came out of the recession too.  She invented a pizza and it goes with Whole Foods now and it looks like shhe will grow with it and she says she comes to Tango dancing  because she can let go. Because like I told you, when a woman goes with the flow, she don’t have to think, she has  to let go of everything, it’s kind of like meditation for her.  And she said, “This is my two hours a day or my hour a day where I can let go, I just feel the music, I go with the music, I listen to the music, and it’s a calm music, it’s not anything rough, and it calms me down.” And she is very busy at the moment and still she find every time an inch to come in. And that’s kind of what you said, I guess–that she can chill out tango dancing.

Why do people stay once they’ve started?   We are a clique, we go out dancing.  It’s not just that we practice hard–no, no, we go together dancing, we become friends. Some more, some less. We go out together, we dance together, we have parties together. It’s  a social environment where everybody helps each other.

Because it’s not that one sticks with the same partner every time.  That’s not recommendable because everybody’s different, every woman reacts different to a lead, every woman feels different when a man wants to lead it, and the best is that you dance with everyone.  So, younger and older, everybody comes like this together and likes each other because they’re practicing together.  It’s like a social club where you can come whenever you want.

I say to come to practice, you should partner up at the time, but it’s not a problem, you don’t have to bring a partner.  Partners are here–they will dance with you, it doesn’t matter how old, how young you are or whatever. And at the beginning I will be there to bring you up.

We will start to do more public [things].  I am planning to do an open air milonga (milonga is a tango dance party) and we wanna do it on Main Street somewhere.  So, one night a week or something, the man dancing in a suit the woman in a nice dress and outside. Actually, in Argentina and Buenos Aires they are doing them all the time. Tango should be danced on the street, that the public can see it, and I think this would be the best advertisement we could have.

At the moment is there anything, like an event, that people might come out to?

Whoever comes in here dances.  This is a little YMCA–people can come in here, I never know when they come, I never know when it’s full. This is my thing, I have to be here. Usually after five o’clock, six o’clock usually there’s more youth. Depends, it always depends.

I can never say when something’s here, I can only say I am here and whoever walks in here will dance if they want to–no problem.  Open door policy.

Can you tell me the story of how Tango was created?

The music was there–by composers.

And somewhere in the 1800’s there was a war between Paraguay and Argentina and all the circle there.  The soldiers were alone, there were no cities where they could have gone. The music was there and so they started, between men, to tango. And, of course, there is no woman–you don’t want to be so sensual with another man, so there was all this kick stuff, you know what you see when the man kicks the woman or something, and there was all this rough dancing of tango.

In the last three years [of the war], the government sent the prostitutes, you know.  And the music was there–the soldiers did the dance to it, they invented, if you want, the dance to it. And the prostitutes, they came to it. And then, out of that–because of course, the prostitutes, they try to sell themselves through the dance, and from that comes the stroking, the sensuality, all comes to the dance.  It came out of this environment.

And then, the war was over and the people came back to Buenos Aires and all that andsome people got sent to Europe to study, to Paris, and the reason why tango is so big in Paris is because of that, because  people from Buenos Aires brought tango. And waltz was there–you have some waltz moves in tango also. It’s a mixture, and there is a tango waltz that is on 1-2-3 beat but you dance a tango but on a waltz rhythm with different kind of music. This came together and they came back to Buenos Aires and slowly this form–what is today tango–formed out of it.

Now at the moment comes the new music: this is electronic tango. They are pretty famous already and the youth picks it up again because it is electronic music, and they start now with electronic and in the background playing the old melodies, and they mix that.
In Europe it’s a big thing already.  In Miami, it’s a big thing. I guarantee you, you go to Miami right now and you can dance tango more than any other dances socially. You can dance Miami everyday in Miami. [If] you go to the website www.tangomango.com, you will see how popular tango is in the world.

Sarasota is a small town, it needs a little time to grow, but it will be big here.

What’s the difference between ballroom and Argentine Tango?

The difference between Argentine and Ballroom Tango? It’s like everything–let’s talk about the ballroom business again: everything in ballroom is structured.  They have the judge in the competition, they judge it. Everybody has to do the same steps that the judge can say, OK there is a difference between this. So everything is structured in ballroom.

So, Argentine Tango is a street dance: there is no structure. The tools of the man or of the woman to follow them are the six basics, nothing else. When you have the six basics down, you do them without thinking–well, then, the man creates the dance. There is no step. It’s never a step who everybody’s doing in the world…  the variety is so big that there are no rules. You can do whatever you want. The important thing is, the man has to hear the music, not the rhythm. With other dances like Salsa it’s the rhythm–1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3. It doesn’t matter what the guy thinks or the band plays–you dance just the beat. Swing, rock and roll, whatever you do, you dance just the beat.

In Tango, you are dancing with the melody, and that actually gives you the feeling. Because when you hear music like Argentine Tango, it can be very sad, it can be very loving, it can be very upsetting–ya–and you try to play your instrument (your girl), and it makes it free.

It’s a free dance. You can do whatever you want, there is no rule. When you use the six basics, you will see, you have millions of options. You have to be creative as a man, you can’t just say, “OK I learn this, yeah, I go home in two months.”  Argentine Tango, no, nobody learns in two months. It’s never-ending.

I guarantee you, you dance twenty years Argentine Tango, you’re still learning. And me, I know who dances Argentine Tango and tells you, “I’m still learning.”

Marcia Kramer is an organizer of the tango community in Sarasota. She’s a very lovely lady, and she’s coming to me now too, she’s here too, and she’s dancing also. She said, “I’ve been dancing so long, but what I did with you I never did.”  That doesn’t mean I’m the amazing one or something like that, but, it’s never-ending. She never ends to learn. Everybody’s doing it different. What you’ll see, you have five hundred different men you dance with, and everybody’s doing it different–how big the range is, you know?  How much you can learn.

In Sarasota, you can go to Milonga, I don’t know, every month. The biggest Milonga or tango dance party–we call it Milonga–is at Bobby Jone’s dance course. And Mattison’s is catering this. It goes up to 11 o’clock at night or something, and Marcia is dancing. In Sarasota there are already around 200 Tango dancers–in Sarasota, Tampa, we bring them all together. They all come together.

And there are various places, I guess every week now in Sarasota you can go somewhere, to a restaurant or something, to dance Tango. There is a club Ceviche, Fridays and Saturdays, the band Quabal is playing there, and we are sometimes there dancing there.

Can you tell me how it’s been to start this in Sarasota?

I like Sarasota. I’m not alone able to build Miami up. Miami is already built. There are already teachers, there are good teachers there. And in Sarasota, this is the only place [that teaches Argentine Tango.]  If you go to Marcia’s Milonga, they have a group lesson there. If you go to Gotta Dance to Mike and Angie, you have a group lesson there, but the only Argentine Tango studio where you’ll really be able to practice–if you really take it seriously. You learn from everyone.

What is it that makes you a good teacher?

Oh…  That’s a good question.

Well, I was one time World Champion–in a different thing of course–but I know how to get there. I created couples, I created German champions in my time, in this sport. I lived it for myself and I did it with others. My goal is to create great couples. It is not to create someone who is a nice social dancer. I want to work with someone. And, there’s just one thing: I can show you a step, but how you do it is upon you. If you exercise the step, if you work and really practice hard this one step, you will get there.  But I think that if somebody gives you motivation, if somebody pushes you, if he knows what’s wrong at that moment–I think this is a good teacher.

The opportunity that you can practice more than anyone else because you can be for nine hours here, that makes it good. It’s not just the teacher. It’s what you feel, what you want to do. Steps is not the problem, you invent them in a second–this is not the problem. [It’s] what you want to give to it. I think I am a very good teacher because I know where and how to go somewhere–how to achieve something in dancing. I will not say “I’m the one, the best teacher.”  No, I’m the one with the best possibilities to learn.

I do private lessons, of course, but some people, especially young people, they can’t afford it, they don’t have $85 an hour for a teacher and then three times a week or four times a week. There’s no pressure or something like that to force people to do private lessons, but if somebody wants it, of course I do it.  If somebody wanted to become a member, I don’t pressure for private lessons, I don’t even talk about it because that’s why I left ballroom.

This is a wonderful job because we have fun with people, we make people happy–definitely we have people happy. But the other side of it is, after a day of dancing 6 hours, your body is like you have been working on a construction site, you know–you’re tired, you want to go home. This is what it is as a business. It’s not just dancing all day, it’s really body-work. And every student is different, no student is the same. One person if you say something will be offended, another will say, “Give me more.” You have to be careful and all that.

I’m curious, coming in from out of Sarasota, what has that been like for you?

I’m German. I’m coming out of a society who is always under pressure. In Gerrmany, i’s workring workring working, making money, everything. But working, working, working is in Germany like the premise. It’s just a total different life. Germany was and is, for me, way too extreme. Everything is rules, regulated like crazy.

Then I come to Costa Rica–nothiing. Nothing’s got rules, everything is wonderful. It’s just beach and all that. When you grow up in one culture and you go to the other extreme, it’s not good either. It’s like you’re used to these things are working and they don’t work there. And you don’t like laziness so much. When I take 50% of my education, how I grew up, I’m still way too stressful for Costa Ricans. But I love Costa Rica–this will be the place I die. I will go back for sure–to retire.

I came to Sarasota because he invited me. I was not going to Sarasoat because I wanted to be in Sarasota. I wanted to dance, that’s it. There should be more done for youth. For example, when I see Main Street, it’s pretty dead. It’s not that organized, you know. What we have in my hometown in Germany, we have the main street and there are no driving cars, you know–it’s just for walking. We have, like, every 20 yards a street cafe. An Italian cafe, a Mexican cafe, a French cafe and whatever. And, you know, artists, then you have a little cello orchestra. Then on the other side  you have an Italian opera singer who sings in a big atrium, you know, in a church entrance or something. And people just go there because there’s this attraction for people. Because, when we go out in our hometown to this street, always there is something happening. Always there is something fun.

St. Armands is a little like that [here], but St. Armands is not for everyone. And I think Main Street needs to be something like that [street in Germany]. At 11 o’clock you want to eat something–closed. The only thing that stays open is fast food places.

But there is the ocean, that is wonderful. There’s a cool population too, you know, you have many cultures here. I can speak Spanish, I try to keep up with it by practicing and I can practice here [in Sarasota] so I don’t lose it.  It’s good multicultural living.  And I like that here, there are people making something happen, working hard for it, but not killing themselves for it. So this is the middle of [the two other places I’ve lived].

Posted in Neighborhoods, People Who Inspire Me | Leave a comment

Circling back: A year of Dial Tones

Promo artwork by Nick Perdue.

Originally published in This Week in Sarasota

 

When I heard that this month’s End of the Dial Tone would take place upstairs at the Gator Club, I got a particular kind of excited. Aside from the fact that the antique moldings and old-style decorations provide a strangely perfect backdrops for the always fresh, always weird and unpredictable sounds of the Dial Tone’s “organized chaos,” this show would mark a full year since my first Dial Tone experience, which happened in this same place.

So this year-marker seemed a good opportunity to write a kind of retrospective, where I explore how the Dial Tone and I have unfolded from Gator Club show to Gator Club show, and ask the insight of a couple of other people, including organizer and walking “let’s try this” idea-generator John Lichtenstein.

For the “uninitiated,” Dial Tone is a super-unique music-art project that happens just about once a month in Sarasota. Its essence is pretty much summed up in its full title: The End of the Dial Tone Radical Experimental Collaborative Music Band Band. Here’s the latest promotional video:

I remember my first Dial Tone vividly. I arrived exhausted, bedraggled from a day of something or other. I was excited to finally witness this show because I’ve always had a thing for experimental combinations of creative forms — music, art, dance, etc. — and ever since I heard of this project, I wanted to go. I’d also convinced the person I was dating to come, and as he was equally as tired, we grabbed a cozy spot on one of the old-timey couches bordering the room and just took it all in.

When I think back on it, the show itself was sort of a blur. But rather than any one “song” or epic moment, what stands out in my mind’s memory was the pulsing, relentless, thoroughly gripping flow of it. There’s something about the flow that’s distinctly internal. That is, you’re pulled into something being created in that moment by 15-plus people who aren’t quite sure what they’re creating, but are listening intently to one another in a groping, churning engage-and-response. They’re not exactly playing for you … unlike most performances, they’d probably keep going whether you are there or not. It reminded me of a small house gathering I attended once with some magnificent jazz musicians, who had gathered with each other for some friendly improv. The non-players of us were there as an audience of sorts, but once the musicians got going, it didn’t matter in the least. They were there for the music, for themselves, and fully with each other in play. It felt like a rare and precious opportunity to be a witness.

Greg Bortnichak and Kyla Stevens.
Photo by Duane Schoon.

Looking back over this year of shows, I see two things that  have remained most unchanged and were the initial hooks to get me there: the concept and the quality of the experience itself. The concept is what recent participant and my friend Zachariah Skylab describes as a “kind of ecumenicalism — a trying to achieve a unity of the various arts through one event.”  Zach continues, “I’m really attracted to that, not just in Sarasota but in other cities I’ve lived in. Combining painters with poets with musicians. That’s what attracted me and that’s what kept me going, and it’s the only gig I know of in town that strives to incorporate that in all of their events.”

May 21 show. Photo by Duane Schoon.

The third thing that I think makes this project unique, and the aspect that has had the most personal impact on me, is its “soft borders” — the opportunity it offers to new people to participate as performers, players and artists. Given the kind of alternative “cool scene” vibe I got from my first show, I assumed that the Dial Tone must be something hard to get into. But once I made friends with John Lichtenstein, I found him delightfully open to bringing new folks into this churning monthly machine. I remember mentioning to John that my friend Zach Skylab is an awesome poet who loves to write on old typewriters. Zach tells of his ensuing involvement:

“John called me and asked me if he could use my typewriter for the promo event, I think for the event at the Rusty Hook. So I gave him my 1920’s Smith typewriter, and then he asked me if I wanted to be a part of the band as a percussive element. That appealed to me, and so I said yeah.

“[At the show] John basically plugged the microphone it. I typed spontaneous, stream-of-consciousness wordplay, time-stamping the event by doing brief descriptions of the players that were part of the show. There was a syncopation that the typewriter provided, and a kind of underwriting of the music that I liked. I also read some of what I wrote in the show and that was fun.”

Zachariah Skylab McNaughton on typewriter.
Photo by Duane Schoon.

Zach has since become a fixture at the Dial Tone. “I really like having Zach there and typing,” John says. “I think that’s an awesome addition to the show, acting as court stenographer and as a writer. l still get kind of giddy, like Santa Claus dropped something, when I find some of his writings. The few that I read — and I read very little — I can go, “Oh my god, I know the exact time he was writing this.'”

I was even more surprised and elated when John invited me to participate as a live artist.  My first time seems like decades ago, and putting my skills to work in such an experimental setting and role has helped me grow immensely as an artist. Each time, the loop of “try, observe and collect feedback” has helped me narrow down which of my unique set of strengths lend themselves to what particular kind of live art. I identify distinctly with John when he says, “I think that I’m walking away a better musician after each one of these Dial Tones,” because I walk away feeling like a better artist in a way I never would have achieved if simply left to my own devices or doing a more “normal” kind of commission piece for a client.

Artist Van Jazmin (R) and me, foreground.
Photo by Duane Schoon.

And of course, there’s a magic in the fact that each of us is undergoing some kind of searching, learning process all at once during each show — putting something in and getting something out.  When I ask John what stands out for him over these last months, he responds with praise for the efforts of the participants:

“I couldn’t possibly do these shows without [sound technician] David Byrd. Every time we set up it always feels like a college thesis … There’s a great kind of work ethic through everybody. Sara Stovall is putting her best in playing the violin, John [Ewing] is putting his best into the bass.  You are putting your best at drawing, Van [Jazmin] and Eric [de Barrios] are putting their best into drawing. All the people are putting a lot of work into all of this, and I really appreciate that.”

Erin Murphy and John Lichtenstein.
Photo by Duane Schoon.

As to whether John can track any kind of evolution or trend over this year, he says, “It’s kind of one show at a time for me.  As soon as each piece is moved out of the Gator Club, for me the focus now is [the next show on] June 25. There’s so much work that’s put into these things; it’s cool that people are seeing that. I’m generally happy with everything that’s been going on and there’s those moments of chaos — where everyboedy pulls together and stays together, and it gels, and everybody collectively does it in unison. There was a part [this last show] where we all just stopped playing at the same time. And just that little five-minute jam makes all of the nonsense that came before it relevant.  And I don’t think all the other stuff was nonsense, but that one section was so beautiful because you’ll never get to hear that again. The musicians will never be in that mindset — it’s hard to get five people together these days, everyone is so busy.”

It is, indeed these moments of “on,” when the “striving for unity” finds its flow among the many gathered spontaneous, collaborative players that seem to make each Dial Tone worth working toward and walking into.

How are things looking now, going forward?

“I’m happy with the shows,” John says, “happy with the caliber of players we’re having. We just locked in the location to burn a piano [for the next promo video].  Everything’s moving forward. I think the Ticket was awesome with their write-up. I don’t think I’d really change anything. There’s still some places I’d like to go — Beach Club, Cabana Inn, Five O Clock Club.”

To experience the Dial Tone for yourself in its latest incarnation, don’t miss the next show on June 25th. (You can stay tuned and explore images and clips from past shows via the facebook page.)

John Lichtenstein and Stephen McFadden

John and videographer Stephen McFadden making the May promo video.

Posted in Being an Artist, Building Community, Local Events, Music, People Who Inspire Me, Published Articles | Leave a comment

Me, Mom & Thomas (the Check-out Boy)

I was on the phone with my mom as I went to check out my groceries at Publix tonight to pick up mac’n’cheese (mad craving!) and bananas, apples, and yogurt (for my favorite morning smoothies).

Got to the counter, still on the phone. But I always feel kinda skeezy for being on the phone and ignoring the checkout person, So I said to the friendly-looking young man,”I’m sorry for being on the phone right now.”

He said, “It’s OK, at least you are apologizing… at least you’re ACKNOWLEDGING me.” He did not say this in a snarky way–just delightfully honest and honestly grateful.

Liking this, I took it a step further. “I’m on the phone with my mom actually.”

“Ah–well tell your mom I said hi.” “OK! Mom, (speaking into phone – and reading his nametag) Thomas says hi.”

Mom: “Oh that’s nice. Who’s Thomas?”

“The young fellow at Publix who’s checking me out–err, who’s doing the checkout for my groceries” (I blushed and did a little embarrassed monkey dance).

Mom: “Well you tell Thomas I hope he has a WONDERFUL night”–she said “wonderful” with great emphasis.

This experience made me incredibly happy. What a nice little crossing over of interactions, and coming out feeling the opposite of skeezy!

And, beyond “not feeling skeezy,” it made me happy for other reasons that go deep into my feelings on modern technology, social media, and a waning appreciation for interactions with people in the world around us that are not planned or pre-sorted.

Thomas’ remark about me “at least acknowledging him” made me think of how many times that must have happened WITHOUT the intentional nod or word from a customer, and what effect it had on him. How those little marks of noticing and acknowledging color others’ experiences of and with us whether we are paying attention to it or not (often, I think, not).

Jane Jacobs, civic innovator, hanging out at a Tavern

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It makes me think of how much the increase in “social” technology seems to distract us these days from the social world of our face-to-face daily interactions…  and how thinking of that always makes me sadly pine for romantic images of folks hanging out on street blocks, park benches, in barber shops, enjoying each others company with all of the sights and sounds, smells and unplanned interactions that happen in those sorts of places. Or, at the grocery store check-out line…  how many of us in industrialized countries are super comfortable navigating the social spaces set up on social media sites or through or cell phones but seem to be increasingly uncomfortable with or simply less-inclined to interactions outside of those spaces.

So what’s my reaction?  Anger? Dismay? Protest?

Tonight’s little check-out-line conversation between me, Thomas and my mom reminded me how much I have the power throughout my day to reverse the current trend I see around me, AND how fun it can be.  I believe that spontaneous interactions and being able to enjoy face-to-face exchanges with other people is a great ingredient to life and something I want us humans to hold onto as a species.

Some of my best friends and heroes are those I have met because I was open to talking to them as we shared a public space as strangers. For instance, I met my friend Marcos because I lost my wallet once in Chicago in the Cafe where he worked. Because I lingered a moment longer after he handed me my wallet and had a friendly conversation, I ended up at an underground artist collective that night where I witnessed things and made friendships that inspired an entire era of my life.

Those people and I weren’t “friend suggested” by Facebook’s social mega-mind, and we didn’t find each other because we listed the same interests on twitter. Something bigger was at work–call it chance, karma, or the ludicrous beauty of life and us being open to it.

So am I saying that cell phones or facebook are evil, or that we should talk to every check-out person we encounter?  Not exactly.

Overall, the Thomas-mom interaction makes me think of how, rather than seeing the trend away from openness to who or what’s before us as a downward spiral of doom [as some I know are wont to do, including me at times], moments like tonight can be opportunities to revive our latent inner urges toward public humanity. We can allow that urge to jump in and creatively reconstruct connection in surprising and fun ways that leave us all strangely satisfied and amused. And I’m thinking that these exchanges have the potential to feel that much more warm and human because we had to make an effort to re-humanize them.  NYCity kids enjoying streetlife. Photo by Arthur Fellig, 1937

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In other words, perhaps those of us who lament the decline of spontaneous or otherwise face-to-face exchanges due to technology could approach this trend with enthusiasm, as an exciting new hurdle in the obstacle course of creating good communities around us, whose presence will make headway that much more satisfying.  It can be an opportunity to make this a society that values face-to-face human exchange that much more, because its people have innovated beyond the pressure to pull away.

me (at 16) & mom. photo by our neighbor Gordon.. and don't get me started on the value of connecting with neighbors!!!

In closing, it strikes my mind as poetic that my mother was the one who trained me early-on to savor spontaneous exchanges, especially at… the supermarket! Yes, she’s the type that will know the check-out person’s life story AND deepest personal struggle (or dream) by the time they hand her the receipt. So appropriate that she should have been there with me and Thomas tonight, a warm voice through my cell phone wishing him a wonderful night.

Posted in Building Community, Neighborhoods, Public Space | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Gillespie Park Adventure: How Victor Jr. Outdid Me

This is the story of how a little boy named Victor completely outstripped me as a fearless trailblazer of neighborhood connecting… and reminded me to give kids more credit for being alert, capable leaders in community.

It all started last year, when I and some lovely people were painting a door with other people as part of a SRQ Connects, a Sarasota-based project that uses world cafe gatherings to build local community. We were set up outside my house in Gillespie Park neighborhood, the door sitting on two saw-horses, off to the side of my rented home’s shady shared driveway.

As we worked, a little boy and his dad began walking by. We greeted them and exchanged introductions–they were Victor and Victor (Senior and Junior).

Victor Jr, a boy of about 8 with a round-face, bright eyes and bouncy long black curls, was immediately drawn to the door, paint, and evolving pictures.  He asked with urgent curiosity– “What are you doing?”  When we explained we’re doing an art project, his eyes lit up. We soon learned he loves art.  So we invited him to add his artwork to the door.  He drew a big heart in black paint, and a person, and the words “I love you” in one pane of the door. It added so much to our collective artpiece!

As we painted together, I mentioned to Victor Jr. that day that I was so glad to meet him, because I’m interested in meeting other artists in the neighborhood. My interest stems from my work in Asset Based Community Development and my passion around “walking” this lovely philosophy of inside-out change by forging strong, caring, and creative bonds with and among the people who live in my neighborhood.

As I told him of my quirky desire to meet neighborhood artists, I had no reason to imagine that this meant anything to Victor.  But about a year later, he surprised me. One day I was walking down same driveway with my friend Zach, headed out to Gillespie Park for a jog.  I heard someone call my name.  It was Victor, running out to catch me.

“April April! I have something to tell you!”

“What is it, Victor?”

“You remember how you told me you want to meet other artists in your neighborhood? Well I met one the other day! He lives just down the street over here. Come on I want to introduce you to him!”

“Oh…”  I blurted, trying to remember when I’d told him that and processing the fact that he had remembered… and was now doing it himself!  “Cool!” I yelled out as I grabbed Zach and we hurried behind Victor, who was already walking ahead town the other side of the driveway toward 6th St.

Not five minutes after we began following Victor, his big sister began calling his name from behind us.  She asked where he was going and told him he had to go home right now.

“OK!” He called back, then turned back to us. “Well, I gotta go home now. But he lives right down there– you see the white house with the porch? Yeah that one. Just go down there and knock on the door, I know he’ll be happy to meet you!”

At 8 years old, Victor is one of the only people I’ve met who seems even less nervous about stepping across the general taboos surrounding neighbor-meeting than myself (and a few other neighborhood pioneers I’ve met).  I was truly astounded and touched that Victor not only a. remembered what I said to him, literally about a year ago, b. took action to toward that idea of meeting other neighborhood artists completely on his own, but c. pulled me into the loop with great confidence and decisiveness.

 

To me, this experience was a powerful reminder never to forget how kids and youth are way more aware, capable, and ready to act for community improvement (and adventure) than we usually give them credit for.

What are ways that you have been jolted into having greater respect for kids and their leadership powers in community or small groups?  If you are a kid or ‘youth,’ what are strengths or talents that you have that adults sometimes ignore in you?

Posted in Kids & Youth, Neighborhoods | Leave a comment

Diptych, Opportunity?, and mass appeal vs. originality

About a month ago I met a friend of a friend by chance while hanging out at Cafe Palm who has offered me an exciting and philosophically provocative opportunity.

Here is the tale, and some beginning stages of two paintings to come:

This delightful fellow got ahold of my Aprilart “flippy books” (always in my purse to help me answer the question “oh, what kind of art do you do?”) and, after some serious flipping, declared that he liked my style. He then handed me his business card, explaining that he’s an agent for artists to produce work for large-scale distributors like Target and Pier 1 Imports, as well as online art-sale galleries. Perhaps we could work together, he said. Always one to jump at an opportunity, I said “OK!”… then, “so how does this work?” He’d send me an ‘assignment’,  he said, and see how I did.

He took some time to frame the business for me. It’s not about being “original” or making art that’s “meaningful” — this business, he said, teaches artists about being responsive as an artist to what the public wants and what the market demands, and letting go of your need to stand out.  While some parts of me resonate with what he’s saying–I do think the art world gets a little masturbatory and avante-garde-obsessed, there’s something underneath I’m still trying to work out which doesn’t sit quite right… as far as my own art-path goes.

In any case, I accepted the mission. . The assignment was a 30’s era diptych (two-paned painting) of a man and a woman in a bar. It’s very stylized and tells a story.

While a little intimidated having NO experience with this, I actually had a lot of fun figuring out how to get started.  In fabricating an image to use for my paintings, I had to think hard about who of my network of friends and acquaintances would look JUST right to pull off…  and, where would they pose? I felt like a director casting roles and thinking just the right location for a movie.

I rolled ideas and faces around in my head, as well as the appropriate place, and BAM! finally came to the perfect combo:  John Lichtenstein (local indie-experimental music innovator best known for his tireless re-creation of The End of the Dial Tone) and Erin Murphy (also indie music leader, founder of The Closet and singer/songwriter for the bands Bard and Mustache and The Equines… also happens to be my neighbor).  Erin has impeccable style and knows how to get dressy and mold herself into striking  mood poses which always betray her irrepressibly creative and playful personality.  John… well, John just has a great look, is fun to work with, and is pretty much always down for doing creative stuff.

For location, I settled on Sarasota Vineyard, a wine bar where I once worked that has the perfect old-timey, respectably polished interior and whose owners Jo and Andy are always warmly welcoming.

The shoot itself was a great time — Erin showed up with lots of costumes, but the one she had on was perfect. We shot a few poses, then had wine together and chatted for about an hour (I had the Chocolate Box Shiraz–and highly recommend it!)  Jo, the owner, came outside to join us, and we talked Sarasota scene, venue and show ideas. It felt good to connect, as we’re each busy folks helping make different projects happen locally and often don’t find the time to breathe, talk, and imagine new possibilities together.

Everyone was eager to see the outcome of the shoot (the final painting)–so that also felt good.

 

So here, at long last, are the images. These are JUST the beginning — I’ve just sent them to the licensing fellow for approval.

(I plan to make the paintings slightly impressionistic, with a little red added here and there for warmth and flair. The computer and server in the photos won’t be in the final paintings…)

 

What do you think?  I’d especially appreciate your feedback on the topics of:

– Art for “The Masses” vs. art made for art’s sake…  and, any “middle way” you’ve found between the two?

– Art licensing — have you had experience with this? Helpful stories,  advice?

– Feedback on the compositions themselves [be honest]. Including what I might name this piece. Maybe because it’s such an ‘assignment’, I’m having trouble with a name. “bar talk” is all I can think of… but that doesn’t feel right.

 

Love,

-April

Posted in Being an Artist, People Who Inspire Me, Stories Behind Artwork | 3 Comments

Neighborhood Love Letter

This is a Love Letter I wrote for Valentine’s Day to my beloved neighborhood, Gillespie Park (in Sarasota, FL). Here’s the first few lines and photos, click the link to see the whole thing on This Week in Sarasota.

**You can sign up on the main page to receive bi-weekly emails with new great articles on awesome art, music, community events as well as food and other fun & useful stuff. I plan to focus my articles on my adventures in “HoodWalking” — exploring and connecting with the great things in my neighborhood — and on experiences, resources, and perspectives of working artists, including myself.

article:

 

It’s the season for red cellophane heart-shaped boxes, romantic dates and love letters. In the spirit of the season, I decided to put my feelings for my greatest local “paramour” into words and pictures in a love letter to my neighborhood, Gillespie Park.

 

Ten Things I Love About You
A Love Letter to Gillespie Park

Dear Gillespie Park,

Since the day we first met, when I was visiting my friends at the blue house on 7th St., I have nurtured a strong and enduring love for you. I hope you won’t think me presumptuous in sharing my feelings so openly, but I can’t shake this feeling that we are made for each another. My greatest sadness would be for you to never know how very special you are …  So here are 10things I love the most about you:

1. Your Face

 

Houses from the early 1900s, friendly front porches, expert detail …  Spanish-style stucco houses in white, brown and red …  Yards that range from delicately manicured to sometimes old-Florida wispy, sometimes lush and funky foliage. Hidden lanes, oak canopies, a convenient street grid that gives me about 300 options for getting in and out. 

 

 

 

You are eclectic, exotic, traditional, industrious, domestic, inviting and private all at once. For this, I love you.
 

2. My Neighbor Leo’s Home-based Chocolate Factory

The underground Willy Wonka of Gillespie  Park, my friend Leo Rojas makes the MOST INCREDIBLE chocolates!! Hand-crafted with love and years of culinary experience, his line of “Porcelana” chocolates are made the way candy should be: all pure ingredients with little to no artificial additives. Flavors are distilled in the old-fashioned way, and Leo achieves flavor, texture and an experience that will literally blow your mind (I promise).

 

See more pics and neighborhood gems – read full article here

Posted in Building Community, Neighborhoods, People Who Inspire Me | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Authentic Florida Brilliance: How Ben Prestage rocked my world

I have long grappled with whether I’m an actual fan of blues, honky-tonk and bluegrass. Upon hearing one of the best musicians I’ve heard live in Sarasota last weekend — Mr. Ben Prestage, “One Man Band,” who happens to excel in all three of these genres — I’ve gotten some clarity on my fandom status.

My first encounter with Ben Prestage happened in St. Pete last Saturday, and ended up with me coming back for more here in town at the unique Stragglers Bar in south Sarasota. I’ve come to realize that what makes me love these genres, when I do love them, is not that a particular style of note combinations, vocals or songs are used, but rather, that the musicians themselves communicate the essence of where that style was born. Hearing Ben Prestage not only gave me eight-plus hours of being in love with these genres all over again, but also the precious experience of witnessing true excellence, extraordinary talent, impressive showmanship and just a great, unique human being in full swing.

When I first saw him in St. Pete, I’d been convinced by a good friend that he was a “must-see” phenomenal musician. Skeptical by nature due to my somewhat picky musical preferences, I went up to St. Pete open but not expecting that much. I was also tired from a trip to South Florida earlier that day, and secretly hoping we wouldn’t stay out terribly long. I walked up to a crowd surrounding Mr. Prestage as he launched into a new song … he sported a full beard and a train conductor hat, surrounded by a gaggle of instruments including drums, harmonica and stringed things such as guitar, banjo, cigar box and who knew what else. I was won over instantly as Ben played something jivey that sounded Appalachian. As the night wore on, my respect grew deeper as he performed a wide range of styles from bluegrass to blues and some honky-tonk thrown in.

I’d originally planned to spend the next day at Busch Gardens, but when we heard that Ben was playing Sarasota the next night, the Busch trip got curtailed. We headed to Sarasota’s own Stragglers Bar in the early evening, which I hadn’t heard of until that day. The car population was heavy with motorcycles outside the bar, and it was a pleasure to walk in on a group of smiling, rapt motorcyclists along with other folks who I don’t tend to see in the haunts I frequent downtown.

Seeing Ben play a second time expanded my respect yet again: I had heard a near-full set the night before, and it was two hours before I heard him play something from the night before.

While I’m in no way a musician or legit music critic, I can safely say that Mr. Prestage has a rare mastery of each of his instruments. What makes it cooler, he’s usually playing several at once — with drums hooked up to foot pedals, he strums and sings simultaneously, often with a lit cigarette somewhere within arm’s reach and a harmonica duct-taped to the microphone nearby as well.


It was a marvelous evening. As Ben switched among his various stringed instruments — acoustic guitar to cigar box, cigar box to electric, and on again — he moved through genres with a fascinatingly rugged fluidity. His voice flipped easily from a bearlike, barrel-deep growling tone to soaring high notes, his songs from joking jumpy (a song about moonshine was one of my favorites) to raw, soul-carved, husky blues. In between songs he also went the extra mile, weaving each act together with an entertaining monologue to lead into the next song — “Who here went to the Baptist church this Sunday?”

Days later, I still feel full from this show. What was it? And why do I now rank him in my very narrow list of favorite musicians? What stands out for me in Ben Prestage is what I can only call “wholeness” and “authenticity.”

Here’s my theory. Ben Prestage is one of those musicians who has achieved (or perhaps always possessed) full authenticity. He is real, pure and unrefined in the sense that he’s not trying — he just is. Not to say he doesn’t work at what he delivers — that level of picking, singing and coordination doubtlessly takes hours of solo practice. But it comes out of him with such full force that each of these components, and the magnetic whole package, are merely an expression of a core that is very deeply anchored in the creative spirit. However hokey it sounds, I think it’s this level of deep connection with the creative spirit that turns artists into conduits — conduits for the human experience, of whatever it is that flows through us and the world to make things work (I’m not going to try naming it here), of the collective memories, wounds, hopes and wishes we share.

Perhaps one reason Mr. Prestage delivers such a punch is that, as his website explains, “Ben Prestage’s musical background began before he was born … even before his parents were born. Ben’s great-grandmother was a Vaudeville musican who toured with Al Jolson and in medicine shows. Her daughter was a Boogie-Woogie pianist and painter who used to play for Ben when he was coming up.”

Here’s an interesting mini-documentary about Ben:

The other aspect of Ben Prestage that gets me going is the fact that, like me, he’s a Florida native.  In fact, he’s from near where I grew up.  Unlike much of Florida goings-on I come across in this and other towns, Ben lets fly with the “country” side of Florida that I know and love, but often feel gets kicked under the rug in place of more “refined” or more “tourist-friendly” ways of being.  Something about Ben’s performance, unabashedly rough and down-home, validated and helped me revel even more in my roots.

Speaking of another side of Florida, I highly recommend taking a trip down to Stragglers. There’s live music every Sunday, and you can also pick up some delicious fresh-made Mexican-style pork or chicken tacos for just $2 each right outside. The owner, Will, was super welcoming and gracious with me when I asked about the place. “It’s just a good little neighborhood bar where people come to have a good time,” he told me.

Ben: Six shots strong by end of set.

I checked in with another couple of friends who came out — videographer da Lee Woodman said of Ben, “He was the best musician I’ve ever heard live.” Bootsy, who takes in tons of live shows at Pastimes Pub in Gulf Gate, shared: “It rocked my socks off. I lost one sock and can’t find the other.”

Ben plays the cigar box guitar.

Drum/cigarette holder.

Posted in Local Events, Music, People Who Inspire Me | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My new gig! This Week in Sarasota

Check out new article on This Week in Sarasota, written by… me!  Writing for this wonderful group gives me the chance to share broadly what I’m learning all the time anyway — exciting and wonderful treasures in my community and beyond of creative people, groups, transformative ground-up projects and partnerships.

Here’s a teaser of the  beginning and below that, a link to the previous article I wrote on another two wonderful local artist shows.

“Things Could  Have Been Different”

“Last weekend I was delighted to discover that artist and curator John Sims, who I’ve known from community projects and shows here and there, has a studio in my neighborhood, Gillespie Park. What’s more, I also learned that he was hosting a show as part of hisMathArt Project series for the talented artist Aaron Blackall…”

SEE ARTICLE

 

 

First Article:

Colorful Immersion: Darcy Little’s “Grand Arena,” SartQ’s “Avante-Garden”

 

 

What do you want to hear more about?  Any feedback on the writing/coverage/…?

Posted in Local Events, People Who Inspire Me | Leave a comment

Aaaaah! Amazing poetry

Yet another event I missed, but am eternally grateful to local talented friend/visual entrepreneurs for having captured. Must share. What’s you’re favorite line(s)?


Buddy Wakefield Live at the Blue Owl (Sarasota)

~April

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment