Thursday, June 27, 2002

Caffeine and Creativity

The atmosphere at a Central Avenue coffeehouse encourages customers to exercise their artistic expression.

By Robin Sloan
Points South Staff Writer

CENTRAL AVENUE–The woman behind the bar has green skin.

But some of it is torn away to reveal ribs and intestines. Blood drips down her chest in shining rivulets. She is called EX: 114, and don’t worry, she’s just a painting.

A.J. Fitch, 29, painted her with kindergarten-style tempera paint. He has just sidled up to the bar at The Realm, a coffeehouse on Central Avenue where he is a regular.

"I need a Clymax," he says. He is addicted to this Realm exclusive: three shots of espresso, flavored milk and whipped cream. And caramel. And milk chocolate.

The Realm is the anti-Baywalk. If Baywalk is all entertainment and consumption, then The Realm is all conversation and creativity, a haven for working-class hipsters in downtown St. Petersburg.

"I think especially since Baywalk opened there’s not really a place ‘off the norm’ to go," says Dawn Storm, who owns The Realm. "There’s a lot of nice places, but this one is totally different." Storm provides art supplies so customers can draw as they sit and sip their mega-caffeinated coffee-based beverages. She is a creativity evangelist.

Storm is short, fair-skinned, red-haired, with a tattoo in the shape of an angular knot on her shoulder. She’s 28, looks 22, but speaks with a hard edge. She may run a coffeehouse, but she’s assembling a management team to do it.

Storm traveled to Amsterdam last February and came back inspired to create a coffeehouse like the ones she had visited there. She imagined hers as a flash point for artistic expression, "a place where people (could) freely express themselves."

Her project began with self-education. She visited the St. Petersburg Business Resource Center. She read articles online. She bought a video called "Espresso 101," which traces the coffeehouse supply chain from beans to bistro.

She found a location. A storefront on Central Avenue had bars on the windows, a courtyard for smokers, and a bit of character--all desirable traits. Now the courtyard is artfully spattered with red, blue and yellow paint, and the word "REALM" crawls in wide-spaced, slightly curving capitals across the top of the building.

Tuesday, Storm scored a major coup: the furniture store next door decided to pitch some of its inventory. Of course, the funkiest items were first to go, and Storm nabbed them, two bizarre brown-and-yellow couches. They are the newest additions to The Realm’s conversation pit.

Raymond Rau, 43, comes here after his job working maintenance at a yacht club. He says it’s a place to talk and laugh with friends. "Like-minded souls seek each other," he says. Plus, it’s open late.

Gene Riddell, also 43, runs The Realm’s weekly poetry night. "A lot about this feels like an old-fashioned coffeehouse," he says. "It’s doing well."

However, the real key is the art. There’s a looming male face, shadowed, on one wall. Fuzzy drawings of glowing orbs. A huge swath of pastel chalk--suns and moons in blue and orange--is all Storm’s work. Then there’s Fitch’s green woman behind the bar.

Fitch is afraid people assume the gore of EX: 114 represents what he’d like to do to someone. It doesn’t. Instead, it’s a meditation on how terrible you feel inside when someone treats you badly. "Everything I paint is a reflection of me," he says.

One wall, a small section in the back corner, is dominated by a single artist. The pictures are soft amoebas, light orange and green. A dozen or so are taped up in a loose grid. They were drawn by a customer.

Storm loves to see people come to The Realm and discover their creativity.

Shawn Banks, 38, builds boats. He’s pensive and comes here to relax and, if he wants, not say much at all. But he also comes to draw. Banks is the artist behind the starbursts and tentacles, the wall full of them.

"I am here more than I should be," he confesses.

On the other side of the room, Dawn Storm rearranges furniture. A.J. Fitch sips his Clymax. A kitten named Maya prowls across the room, and EX: 114 keeps watch over the bar in all her ghastly glory.