"For Brooklyn artists Molly Crabapple and A.V. Phibes, life drawing classes had become snoozeworthy: Sure, there was a naked model in the room, but said room was cold, fluorescent-lit, and filled with strangers.
The experience would be so much better with friends. And alcohol. Thus, the two wizards birthed Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School — a cure for the common, drab, drawing-class environment. The alternative art craze swept the nation, finally landing itself a home in South Florida at Stage 84.
Once a month, creative folk gather at the cozy hangout and feast their eyes on busty burlesque babes waiting to be sketched. The alcoholic drinks flow, cheering and shouting ensues, and five-foot-long balloons get swallowed by amazonian beauties.
This anything-goes artistic atmosphere
Betty Pickle Knows Her Balloons
Stage 84 is the type of place that you walk in and you're instantly taken back to your high school boyfriend's basement. AC/DC, Chicago, and various classic rock LPs decorate the walls, cozy couches fill the room, and the smell of incense tickle the nostrils. Every nook and cranny is filled with antique treasures and kitschy items and a tapestry curtain shields the outsiders from peeking in. The psychedelic decor and eye-catching art work makes you forget that you're inside a Davie strip mall off 595.
An eclectic crowd of individuals has gathered tonight for the second installment of Dr.Sketchy's Anti-Art School, a monthly
Betty Pickle (photos by Beth Black)
It’s a balmy Thursday night at Davie’s Stage 84, a detail not even remotely helped by the sprawl of some 50-odd warm bodies — local artists, bartenders, scantily clad dancers — all wedged inside the quaint music café for a live sketching class. Sweat trickles down the glittery, cream-powdered cheek of Cupcake Burlesque dancer Jenna Beth as she describes, counting on glossy, white fingernails, the number of times some “pervy old man” has hit on her tonight.
“My
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Tiki torches, totem poles and thatch-roofed island bars surround a spotlit stage at a downtown Fort Lauderdale restaurant. A beefy man with tanker truck-thick shoulders emerges from behind a curtain, and tucked within his pair of python arms is a topless blonde in a skin-tight mermaid costume.
For the briefest of moments, doubt enters Charlotte Sundquist's mind. She's standing inside the Mai-Kai, this kitschy tropical-themed eatery, armed with
