Alley Gallery

This alley, just off Union somewhere near 15th, is one my current fave art gallery in the city. A mish-mosh of portraits, still lives, and metal dragons in a variety of styles, it's a cacophony of color, and excellent for it. Out there, in the weather, near the trashcans, brightening your day with ludic zen silliness.














I love the way the trees are a part of the whole collage effect. Blended, integrated. Although you can say that it looks thrown together or "disjointed" or something, but the art at once stands out individually and becomes a whole together. It's bits of art, and it's just wallpaper. Much of it is not very "good" in a "true art" sense, but it remains weirdly inviting, welcoming even, and asks you to look closer.. no, closer... So much to see.


















Even the telephone pole gets a treatment -- chinese angel-dragons ascending to heaven perhaps. The yellow painting of the flower vase remains the visual entry point.. it catches your attention immediately, while it also blends with the fall colors beneath it, and then you see the heart.. From there your gaze moves around to other pieces and shapes, weaving haphazardly. Who needs the Seattle Art Museum when you have alleys like this?! It's fantastic.

ARM...

You might not be able to see the markings in this sculpture... ARM in capital letters. I can only assume the author was trying to write ARM THE UNEMPLOYED, or similar. Grafittus Interruptus, apparently. Sadly, or depending on your point of view, Comically, this was scratched into "Stinger" by Tony Smith (d.1980), which is featured in a copse nearby his similar "Wandering Rocks" piece at the brand-spanking new Olympic Sculpture Park. I went opening weekend (Jan.20, 2007) and found that a few items had already been altered by locals. Richard Serra's "Wake", the most powerful piece in the park (IMHO) had been graffitied too, multiple times, with fingers, or something:














Frankly, the park is underwhelming. A few pieces are good, some are ok, many are not appealing at all. At least the place is a park and no longer an industrial zone. Net gain. And it does improve -a little- the access to the nearby Myrtle Edwards Park, site of many a bay-front festival. So that's good. A few comments in local news-blogs pointed out that it's only time before these public sculptures get tagged by street urchins. Draw your own opinions.
I learned from conversations I've had since then that much of the input from parts of the local art community included the idea of making a place for local-made art... a grafitti wall, or a few revolving local-only spots, or something. Sadly, none of that is in evidence. Perhaps the locals will find their own places to put art in the park. There is certainly lots of ultra-drab concrete slab walls there... and a lot of creative people around here.

Mr. Fireplug

Marching forcefully down 17th and Columbia, this li'l workin' man is happy to do the job. A little too happy, if you ask me. And with intense and creepy eyes too. Eyes that seem to burn into you with malevolent glee. What on earth is he thinking about? Whatever it is, it can't be good. Too many hours on the job, I suspect. Or perhaps the amphetamines are finally making his brain crazy. He's pretty serious about whatever he does, though. Truly a committed man. "Chained to his job", you might say.

Everywhere a Sign

The requirements of signage makes for a curious aesthetic at times. Found on lower Western Ave. just before it intersects Yesler, this garage door's two notices creates a beautiful clusterfuck of language: "Do No Parking Any Time" it insists. Why on earth didn't the "No Parking" sign go below the spray painted message? Odd. The charcoal-gray color of the door is a perfect backdrop to this inadvertant assemblage.

Savoy Shuffle

What situation caused these fancy hotel slippers (from the Savoy in London's West End) to end up here? Grubby, worn and in disarray at the bus stop at 19th and Jefferson? They speak of sadness, confusion, pain. The bus lines that pass here, No.'s 3 and 4, go directly to Harborview Hospital, about 12 blocks to the west. Why did this person need to go to the hospital in such a hurry that they couldn't put on shoes? Did they arrive with barefeet, in a nightgown? Why did this person not have at least a concerned friend to give them a lift? Was it a medical emergency? Or a loved one already embedded in the house of the poorly? I weighed the gravity of these possibilities for a minute, then my bus arrived.

Le Chien d'Acier

This cocker was sitting atop the action end of a metal cyclone fence somewhere on 15th Ave in the Central District. Lovingly detailed, yet worn from at least a decade or two of use, he looks back somewhat mournfully at the house he guards. Perhaps wishing he could be inside the warmth, and not out here on the cold, cold sidewalk.

It's small flourishes like this that make places interesting, although why the owners chose to immortalize a cocker spaniel in cyclone steel is unclear. A dear departed most likely. Nothing else about the house was particularly noteworthy, but it needn't have been: this little protector says it all.

Dirty Snowman

Walking on Capitol Hill near the First Church of Christ, Scientist, we found this snowman chilling on the corner. With cocktail garnish eyes and an old tofu container for a hat, it looked like he hadn't washed in days. It seemed like he needed a smoke pretty badly, so we gave him one. He was grateful, humble even, and accepted the stubby smoke without complaint or comment. He knows the score: after this next freeze his days are numbered. The temperature wasn't much above 32 fahrenheit, perhaps just a couple of degrees, but the sky was open and the sun bright. His texture was already pitted from the previous day's melt and refreeze overnight. I shifted from one foot to the other as he stood mute, my friend muttered a conciliatory comment, but we knew it wouldn't help. The awareness of death a heavy weight between us. We nodded to him solemnly and walked on. Just as I started to turn away, I saw a tear fall from his orangy eye...