Proud to be a Seattleite!

(don't you love the "world's fair" style event poster?)

I had no idea the cultural marvel of an evening I was in for when I suggested we head to Artopia on Saturday night. Sounded harmless enough: some live music, "multi-disciplinary" art, repurposed furniture and lots of dark beer. I mean, the only reason I didn't get married in that favorite old factory on Airport Way was because we thought some of our relatives might be scared by the late night carousing across the street at 9lb Hammer. I don't drink beer, but I like being with people who do.

It was a gorgeous night, and we wandered in and out of a lot of bad art shows, bored by most, laughing at the hysterical:

(It's just true.)

We peaked at Via Tribunali's street oven firing up The Non-Scotsman's favorite Seattle meal for only $5 a pizza. Heaven from the oven.

(Via Tribunali pizza)

We admired our favorite furniture-maker's lamps at Great Stuff, but things started rapidly flailing downhill about Block 4 with the local dance troupe flopping on a plastic mat, and then this guy:

(I didn't ask...)

I quickly grabbed cheap sushi to-go, and we revved the engine into the sunset, driving over to Alki for the final glimpse. A complete contrast: the suburban waterfront and campfire-song atmosphere of West Seattle. We were stuck in the traffic of the young hipsters trying to "drag main" - awesome.

(I took this from my passenger seat, too relaxed and lazy to exit the car and sit on the bench and be part of this scene myself, 2010)

On the way home, in lieu of cocktails we decided Milkshakes & Cokes were in order from Dick's on Broadway right by our house. Again, a innocent decision. However, it happened to be the Eve of the Capitol Hill Gay Pride Parade, and all of Broadway was blocked off for the festivities. Street vendors selling henna tattoos and beaded sarongs sashayed to the live music coming from behind Julia's on Broadway. Massive men in hiked skirts sang Aretha Franklin - the finale of the night.

(The dance party outside Julias)

Pulling into our garage I marveled at the cultures we had just experienced:

Georgetown garage fishnet stockings and tatted kilt-wearing artists.

West Seattle family-friendly main drag filled with marshmallow puffs.

Capitol Hill gay pride in all it's vibrant sashaying.

Proud to be a Seattle-ite!

Bailey Russel pays attention

There are many artists I admire. Most I hope to never emulate. I can appreciate masterworks born out of confusion and chaos. I enjoy art that is thought provoking, angry, disruptive, honest. But do I want live in an angry fog myself? Not particularly. And does that mood typically inspire me artistically, or nurture me to birth a creative piece? No.

Last night, imagine my “aha!” moment when I came around the angst-filled hallway corner and stepped into this small, seamless exhibit in Shift; a collaborate studio downtown on S. Washington St. & 3^rd.

Hello Bailey Russel.

With all the grace of seaweed waving effortlessly underwater, he showcases the everyday miracles falling all around us in Possession.

(I even love the simple display, paper hanging from clips on the wall)

Imagine now, these images are BIG. Each leaf is the size of a child.

Bailey says these beautiful enlargements of small and natural objects were inspired by the actions of a Judge in Cormac McCarthy's novel "Blood Meridian". I find that ironic, as supposedly the Judge was standing in for the Devil and would collect artifacts, sketch them, and destroy them. He did this to both posses them and erase their lives from the memory of mankind. Bailey seems to put them on a pedestal, drawing our attention to each microscopic detail, each hue. Instead of erasing the image, he has impressed me to the point of imprinting their delicacy in my mind.

(My sister-in-law, Alanna, at the exhibit last night before coming over for 7&7's)

Thank you, Bailey, for the reminder that it is worth paying attention. Period.

To the leaves on my windowsill:

(Seattle, 2010)

To the flaming red cab on the street last week (is that really a bullethole?)

(Georgetown, 2010)

To the most important things in life.

(A photo of a billboard The Non-Scotsman couldn't get over on our trip to New Zealand, 2008)

I have a confession.

I am obsessed with Brick.

Lots of bricks.

(A favorite from my trip to New York in November, 2009)

I crave them. I look for them everywhere. I daydream about them. I drive the long way just to see glorious mountains of them cemented together in their stolid regimen. I love how glass windows look in their cavities.

(A classic on Occidental in Pioneer Square)

Thankfully, Seattle is shock full of the most beautiful, 100-year old brick beauties. Yesterday I found myself in Georgetown, innocently driving through when I saw Them. I immediately pulled off the road, parked in a frenzy, and braved an icy, torrential downpour with my camera.

I stood in the street like a madwoman and snapped photos of the old Rainier Brewery building.

It's partially intact, partially a facade. Georgetown Studios took some of the best parts and have created a gorgeous event facility. I was in heaven.

(You can even see the raindrops in these photos)

My affair with brick is only egged on by The Non-Scotsman's similar affection for the stuff. He actually found the historic Red Hood Brewery where we held our wedding, almost solely because of the fact that it recessing brick.

(Our wedding, 2007)

(Our audio technician, wedding 2007)

There is something about it: warm in winter, cool in summer.

Looks good by itself.

Looks better painted 50 after doubling as a billboard.

Give me a brick building with massive leaded windows - and I will give you the most toothy smile you've ever seen.

(My bridesmaids outside the Red Hook Brewery, 2007)