Last Thursday, on a humid July evening went to Julie’s opening. Her work is extraordinary, finding some unique middle ground between folk, fairy tale and fantasy; feels imbued with tradition yet profoundly immediate.
Below Howard Lev admires (and later, put a reserve on) ‘Mr Paprikash finds love’:
Julie was concerned, said Joe Max Emminger (husband/artist?), that no one would show, but the sweating masses poured in to admire. Howard tried to bargain for Mr Paprikash.
Outside the crowded gallery, Howard and Joe reflect on their reflections.
The show runs through August 16th at the Grover/Thurston Gallery in Occidental Square.
(For fans of Mama Lil’s for whom her style rings a bell, Julie also designs Howard’s labels.)
Another from Green Lake a couple days ago.
The season finale of Short Stories Live - with participants (l-r) Julie Briskman, Kurt Beattie (who also directed), David Pichette, Imogen Love, and Elise Hunt. Three stories, beautifully read: ‘The Baby Party’ by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dorothy Parker’s ‘The Standard of Living’, and a hilarious ‘The Amazing Hat Mystery’ by Wodehouse.
For a larger view of the event, click below:
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The thermometer reads 90+ and Green Lake becomes a North End air conditioner. At dusk yesterday:
Behind the Bathhouse, a last dive from the platform.
Young love. Note the lad’s burnt cheeks. Or are they flushed?
West of the Bathhouse, Rainier glows above the ridge.
By the wading pool, even the rats come out to play. This one I snapped somewhat blurrily on the grass. Nearby a family finished its picnic.
And check out those mittens.
Yesterday, our young neighbor Tia rode for the first time without training wheels. Smart papa John removed the pedals, which makes it so much easier. Congratulations, Tia!
Caught along the way.
Below, the angles revealed just after dawn. I didn’t notice the fresh tar on the right when I took the shot.
At the mouth of the canyon - Yakima end - BNSF rails.
Jesu makes his appearance near the cracks.
Empty apple containers just outside of Selah. 4×4x6 feet each (or so).
1:30 AM. Long exposure. A car illuminates the canyon road below in a long streak.
Here’s another an hour later.
Then on down past Rosa Dam - another car at 2:30:
4 AM, just before dawn. Moon set.
And that’s Julia’s across the street, fronted by white umbrellas.
The owner/proprietor of Globe Books, one of the best little bookstores in the city. In another life, John and I founded the Globe Radio Repertory and together created several dozen radio plays for NPR through the early 90s.
Snapping a shot for one of Paul’s upcoming N&T features (Sick’s Stadium), I bumped into Nathaniel Richardson, who admired the ‘Then’ photo of the stadium parking lot filled with cars at least 60 years old. “Looks like Al Capone went to the game,” he said.
I asked him if he’d ever been inside the stadium himself. He nodded. “Saw Jimi Hendrix there in ‘71.” Interestingly, I’d gone to the same show, but had sat across MLK (then Empire Way) looking down from the hillside. After an hour and a half or so onstage, Hendrix ordered that the stadium gates be opened, and all of us outside came in.
Below Nathaniel reflects on times past.
Edith Sherrard, retiring director/founder of Hillside Student Community, receives flowers and a standing ovation at Saturday’s grad night.
Esther Sandberg, school secretary/inspirer, provided moral support as well as putting her vast administrative skills to use on a daily basis, also retiring (the eagle-eyed can catch a blurry glimpse of husband Gary at lower right, who contributed himself to no small degree over the last 40 years).
Saturday night was the closing night of the Hillside production of Bertolt Brecht’s ‘The Caucasian Chalk Circle’. Our cast of 21 comprised the largest we’ve ever had at the school. It was a play to remember, with stellar work by all.
That same night was, as it is every year, combined with the school’s graduation ceremony. Here are two of our graduates in full flower (beaming at them on the right is Hillside’s director Kael Sherrard).
After the long rains this spring, the canyon continues to bloom. Not as lush as last year, but the hills are alive. Most likely, this will all turn to brown after a week of real heat, but for now green pastels dominate.
Not to mention a few flowers emerging from the dry soil. Here’s a detail from the Paradis repeat above:
I’ve always wondered which property owner leaned out over the precipice to scrawl the following on the cliff face (enhanced detail from the photo above):
Later, paused to snap a lonely cloud and biker. See Wordsworth for details.
And on the way back, Howard licks his chops, contemplating the visual feast.
Heading into his Pink Ladies on his red tractor last autumn. One of the good guys.
Exactly above the railway tunnel, perches All City Coffee, wherein is mounted a remarkable show: “Emerging…a Group Exhibition of Artists from the University of Washington Extension Certificate Program in Fiber Arts”.
A stunning assemblage of wicked notions and cross-fertilizations. One standout was Mary’s extraordinary ‘Dancing at Lughnasa’, a shawl made of words. A marvelously elegant notion, so beautifully realized.
To see for yourself, visit All City Coffee at 125 Prefontaine Place S. The exhibit runs from June 5-30.
Of course, our own railway tunnel stretching from Virginia to Washington….Streets, that is.
Here’s an evening shot looking down from above the southern tunnel entrance at 4th and Washington. The rains and clouds had abated for a few delicious minutes, allowing us to see Seattle’s guts and beauty during last Thursday’s Artswalk.
