When Dr. Robert Andrews first proposed that a series of historically accurate, educational murals be painted on downtown buildings in Punta Gorda, Florida, some residents opposed the idea, insisting the murals would be nothing more than “graffiti.” Business leaders, on the other hand, loved the idea. They formed the Punta Gorda Historic Mural Society (PGHMS) in 1994 and successfully lobbied the City Council for permission to paint the first one on a large blank wall of a former shopping center located on U.S. 41 Northbound. Once the first mural was completed, others quickly followed, and residents who had initially opposed the idea began taking guests around town, proudly showing off the works of art.

Cattle Drive Down Marion Ave, 1903

Over the next ten years, more than 90 murals were painted at 20 different sites. Then disaster struck. On Friday, August 13, 2004, Hurricane Charley roared onshore at Punta Gorda as a category 4 storm with sustained winds in excess of 145 miles per hour (to get a sense of the destruction, check out this post on the TampaBay.com blog; click on each photo to see the same scene, as it looked immediately following the hurricane). In one short hour, 11,000 of the city’s 16,000 homes were totally destroyed, along with six schools and six fire stations. About 300 businesses were leveled. And half of the mural sites were gone.

FEMA Photo

Five years later, the occasional vacant lot is still visible, but buildings that were damaged beyond repair have been torn down and debris has been carted away. In their place, new facilities have sprouted. Downtown has colorful new shops, luxury hotels, and a new convention center. Schools and fire stations were rebuilt with state-of-the-art facilities. The murals, too, are slowly being recreated. Read the rest of this entry »

Although I don’t pretend to understand the surreal images of distorted females and melting clocks that pervade the art of Salvador Dali, his work had always intrigued me. I simply assumed the symbolism was an unknowable product of a demented mind. So I was surprised when the docent at the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida commented, “Luckily, Dali spoke and wrote voluminously about the meaning of his artwork while he was alive, thus we understand what each piece is meant to represent.”

Fascinated, I followed the docent around the gallery as she related the history behind each piece and explained what the artist was trying to convey in his bizarre landscapes. With its 96 oils created between 1917-1970, the Salvador Dalí Museum is the permanent home of the world’s most comprehensive collection of the renowned Spanish artist’s work, including the Impressionist and Cubist styles of his early period, abstract work from his transition to Surrealism, the famous surrealist canvases for which he is best known, and examples of his preoccupation with religion and science during his classic period.

The tour ended at a sunken gallery where half a dozen of Dali’s enormous religious canvases hung. At the suggestion of our guide, we stood above and looked down on these floor-to-ceiling pieces in order to have a wider view. This was a different Dali – one that I had never experienced. “Look closely – what do you see?” our guide asked, gesturing toward the oil titled, “Halucinogenic Toreador.”

"Halucinogenic Toreador" - What do you see in the painting?

I’d spotted the most obvious of the double images even before she asked, but was astonished when she began pointing out dozens of double images secreted throughout the painting. Almost everyone in the room could see the two male toreadors emerging from the two main Venus de Milo statues. Most could discern the Dalmatian dog hidden at the bottom of the painting and the head of the slain bull, with its pool of blood represented as a blue lagoon. But I had to get up close to see the smaller hidden images. The panting is littered with Venus de Milo statues and each one, no matter how tiny, contains the hidden image of a toreador’s face.

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The footage of an angry ocean crashing onshore and sweeping beneath an oceanfront cottage is indelibly imprinted onto the memory of anyone who saw the movie “Nights In Rodanthe.” The storm scenes are so jaw-dropping that people may think they were computer generated, but the house is real. It is located in the development of Mirlo Beach in Rodanthe, on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

The ocean sweeps beneath the house where "Nights In Rodathe" was filmed

Other than the blue storm shutters that were added to the exterior for the filming, in real life it looks exactly like it did in the movie. And just like in the movie, it stands like a solitary sentinel on a deserted strand of beach.

It wasn’t always so. Houses used to stand all along this beach. But since 1999, when hurricanes Floyd and Dennis roared onto the Outer Banks, the oceanfront houses on this particular stretch of severely eroded beach have toppled into the ocean, one by one. During my years as a real estate agent I had the opportunity to show many of these houses; I have even had to Read the rest of this entry »