The Tileman, waving to his compadres and greeting all guests. And.. is that cake in his hand? He fits right in to his surroundings, as if the space had been waiting for his presence. How wonderful to have all these little people populating your tiny square of the city forest.
Fresh this weekend, this gloriously detailed winged-insect (tsetse fly? fanged-wasp? martian devilbug?) on the window of the defunct "Premier Auto" storefront on the corner of Pine and 11th was found when the wheatpaste was still damp Friday evening. Clearly the new modus operandi of some street artists around here: pre-designed paper prints that are pasted up quickly. Very effective for high-traffic areas, and especially this one since it's a mere block from the local police station. More! Encore!
(see the flickrstream for exact map locations of most of the art here.)
A man of mortar and brick, and another denizen of the House of Small Statues. Looks like he'll survive the next earthquake, never notice it, just continue to guard his corner of the yard. His tile cap bill is a nice touch. Is he actually the gardener?
House of Small Statues, Part Last
House of Small Statues, Part Four
There's a house with a yard full of figurines hiding on a crooked street in Madrona, very near a pocket park inhabited by a multitude of plum trees. Little stone men, cats, crocodiles, baseball players and devils. Wood, stone, brick and what appear to be colored machine cogs of some sort. It's a lovely hidden spot populated by protector spirits, all hand-made. This one is a favorite-- the river-stone doorway guardian, carefully constructed, a dependable sentinal. The house and garage are also decorated, and I'll be posting more images here soon.
House of Small Statues, Part Last
House of Small Statues, Part Four
The rumors are true, there's a Knitta piece in Ballard right in front of the guitar shop on B'lard Ave. Looks like its (ahem) cut from the same cloth as the Capitol Hill piece... or at least knit from the same yarn. Have not seen nor heard of any new pieces recently, so perhaps the local knitta cell has gone back into sleeper mode, napping and knitting, waiting to strike again...
Reversed-cloche water spout design. A definite improvement on the alternative 'chain' type downspout, these look like they would actually be musical in a downpour. Houses are not normally a part of 'street art'... but I think these are an exception since they are so unique. The house is on 16th, just north of Madison a few blocks. Looks like a nice place.
Here's a speed trap you really don't want to get caught in. On the south side of the T.T. Minor playfield, you'll get a jolt if this critter jumps on your hood for going too fast.
This red monster is done in a fantastic teddy-bear style... I wish I could tell you who the artist is. It looks commissioned to me. It's in a great location though. Any sort of grey concrete is ideal for art like this, but especially near an elementary school. Encore!
Found under Seneca Street as viewed from Post Alley. It's a mostly concrete location, out of the rain. Cars, food, officespaces. Two heads. Although one huge head covering all the grey might have been better, they feel unresolved with the lower half of their canvas only city grey, punctuated by four industrial dots. Bodyless, virtual ; knowledge workers, telecommuters... with hundreds of real commuters flowing off the Viaduct just a few feet overhead.
Over at Bikenerd, our compatriot has posted some photos of stickers he found attached to signs recently. Sez he: "Whoever put these giant stickers along the bicycle path to West Seattle deserves a grant."
Nice stuff indeed. See the rest here.
All tied up and no place to go. The Hammering Man (Jonathan Borofsky, 1992, #3277164.) was stopped and restrained this last fall as part of the Seattle Art Museum's huge construction process. If you haven't been downtown, the SAM is sporting a fancy, skyscraping new appendage off its Northside: The new WaMu Tower. Fortunately for SAM, this will increase the museum's floorspace. Meanwhile, the iconic, ever-hammering Man was stopped while fences surrounded his feet (and the rest of the building) and the construction pushed on.
He really deserves the rest: "The Hammering Man's arm "hammers" four times per minute from 7 am to 10 pm every day. He rests its arm each evening and every year on Labor Day." One day off a year? 15-hour days? He's a throwback to the American capitalism of the late 1800's, or the Asian capitalism of today. A time we'd be best off only remembering. (Of course with increasing overtime and lousy vacation compensation, Americans may be slowly moving back there anyway.)
At last visit a week ago, he'd actually been disassembled in part -- dis-armed, actually -- with no date posted as to when he'll be back on the line, banging away. Probably soon though, since the skyscraper thing (described as 'flute-like' by The Stranger's art critic Jen Graves) is finished and partially occupied already.
It's a memory wall of sorts, which grows yearly with cake tins, copper ornaments and cooking implements extracted from thrift stores. Chaotic yet peaceful, it makes a Sunday walk that much more delightful.
Summit and Pine, this sign received its first bomb-tastic sweater recently. Clearly the work of the notorious clandestine Knitta knetwork, that loose affiliation of underground art terrorists; the local Seattle cell has obviously be onna move recently as rumors of another strike in Ballard are floating about (link to post). Meanwhile, there are perhaps more out there...but to find them we'll need your help. Anyone seeing the work of these dangerous knittorists should report all sightings immediately.
The concrete nosecone of our nuclear ambitions perhaps? Fixed, ready and pointed just above a neighbor's roofline... A weird monument in front of an otherwise normal house, on an otherwise normal street, in a mostly normal neighborhood. It seems out of place, but it's been there a long time. Shortly after I took this photo and wandered away a fellow pulled his truck alongside me and my friend mentioning that he'd seen us taking pictures. "We used to play on that thing back in the early 60's," he said. Back when Boeing was a happy place to work, and our nuclear future looked ever so bright...
