Author Archives: Chandler O'Leary

And a hat, to boot

For every alive-and-well Paul Bunyan statue out there, there’s a roadside attraction that’s gone to seed—or given up the ghost entirely. And since you don’t see a lot of vintage kitsch in museums or public trusts, these landmarks are too easily overlooked by community restoration projects.

Not so in Seattle, my friends.

The Hat-n-Boots have been beloved by Seattle’s Georgetown neighborhood for sixty years. Originally the respective marquee and restrooms (!) for a western-themed gas station along Highway 99, these behemoths are the stuff of legends. (After all, they make a cameo in National Lampoon’s Vacation, and Elvis himself supposedly stopped for gas there.)

Thanks to the introduction of the Interstate highway, the gas station was short-lived, and by the mid-eighties, the landmarks were crumbling. Yet rather than demolish them, the City relocated and restored them in 2003, making them the centerpieces of a neighborhood park.

For that, Seattle easily deserves a tip of one’s (44-foot) hat.

Market madness

I’ll be sticking close to the studio today, frantically filling orders from the shop (thank you for that, by the way!). So the concept of going out on Black Friday is a moot point for me anyway, even if that were my sort of thing.

But I’ll tell you what is tempting, every single year: I love the hustle and bustle of the Pike Place Market on the day after Thanksgiving. I know it’s a complete madhouse on this day, and overtly touristy anyway, and I absolutely don’t care. No matter how long I live here, I hope I never lose my totally impractical love of the place. Our fall veggie haul has the pantry full already, so there’s nothing we actually need there. I just love the energy of the Market, and the crazy jumble of neon signs, upended crustaceans and piles of produce. It’s just about the only thing I’d want to leave the house (and the leftover turkey) for today.

Does that make me crazy? (Don’t answer that.)

Set the table

Since the holiday falls on a non-post day, I’ll have to settle for this sketch of last year’s table setting. But I’m sure I’ll be sketching tomorrow, too, as our friends gather round our table to share a meal and give thanks for one another—and for friends far away, too.

This goes for you, too—whether you’re here in the U.S., getting ready to celebrate, or somewhere else in the world, having just another normal day. Know that wherever you are, I’m thankful for you, for joining me each week in this space. Wherever tomorrow finds you, I hope it finds you warm, well-fed, and surrounded by the things that bring you joy.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Farm to table

These are not sketches of veggie bins at the farmer’s market—this is what our back porch looks like every year at this time. When we’re at home, the Tailor and I eat almost entirely seasonally and locally (what can I say—we’re weirdos). So that means we buy all of our winter vegetables in November, and then nothing until the markets open again in the spring. I confess that by February I’m pretty sick of beets (and when I’m on the road I might sneak a salad in a restaurant), but in the fall I’m nothing but excited about the prospect of all those beautiful sugar pie pumpkins, fresh cranberries and heirloom potatoes.

Each vegetable has different storage needs: the fussy squash and pumpkins like it dry and cool (and need individual newspaper nests); the carrots, apples and garlic do best in the fridge; and the taters and onions like it dark and damp. (And you really can’t kill a beet, so they thrive on neglect.) But before the squash head for the attic and the potatoes for the root cellar, I spread out all the boxes so I can sketch the whole bounty of the cornucopia.

(And then sometimes I swipe an apple while I work.)

S is for…

…well, yes.

But also…uh…Shameless Self-promotion. And very quietly, the Sigh of relief I’m breathing. Because at long, long last, after lots of technical difficulties and a whole bunch of back-end work, my Souvenir Shop is live!

(And I even managed not to miss the holiday season—though only just.)

In the shop you’ll find a whole bunch of original artwork and prints inspired by travel and the blog. There are brand new, original travel illustrations (like the one above!), the beginnings of a 50 States series, reproductions of my sketchbook drawings, and even made-to-order prints of any sketch on the blog. As you can probably guess, this is just the beginning. There’s a lot more to come next year, but hopefully this will whet your appetite.

In the meantime, I hope you’ll pop on over and take a look. And I’ll be back on Monday with the next regular post—see you then!

A-okay

Speaking of plants with giant letters on them, this is another old favorite of mine. Like its rival across the Mississippi, this guy was a starring character of my daily commute. Since the “A” mill isn’t part of the museum complex on the other bank, I was always worried it would be torn down eventually. I heard recently, though, that the building is slated to become an enormous live-work artists’ complex, complete with preserved historic exteriors. So for now, at least, I’m breathing a sigh of relief—looks like this place is still A-okay.

R is for Return

Well, I’m no fan of beer, but I do love me a neon sign and a good swash capital. So while I couldn’t make it to the official relighting of the Rainier “R” in Seattle (link goes to my friend Jennifer’s blog, where there are some fun videos about the R), you can bet I moved a SoDo sketch session to the top of my priority list.

Detour

For as disorienting as being awoken before dawn by owls can be, it’s nothing compared to how it feels when you suddenly find yourself on the opposite end of the country than you planned to be. When you’re expecting to land in Houston, and what you get is a hurricane in your path, a sudden 2000-mile detour, two hours in the airport ticket line, a guardian angel having two phone conversations at once, and a surprise overnight trip into the heart of the wrong city—there’s definitely an overwhelming sense of “Okay, what just happened?”

All I could do was what I always do: get out the ol’ sketchbook, and enjoy the view.

Pet sounds

The Tailor and I bought two new pairs of binoculars for our trip to Big Bend last year, because we knew we could expect to do some serious birdwatching there. What we didn’t find out until the ungodly hours of our first morning in the tent: the birdlistening was every bit as intense.

Sunkissed sketching

In my studio I have a massive collection of vintage fruit crate labels from the 1930s and 40s (they’re still fairly easily obtained here on the West Coast). So it’s probably no surprise that when I found myself standing in an orange grove this winter, all I could do was imagine my sketchbook plastered on a box of citrus and transported to a bygone era.