Seattle is one of the most tow-happy cities I’ve ever encountered. If you’ve ever tried to decipher the convoluted weekday parking rules downtown here (where signs say things like, oh, I dunno, “2-hour parking except third Wednesdays in months with an “R” in them, between 3 and 6 pm, and then only if driver is wearing red hat and matching lipstick”), you’ll know what I’m talking about.
But you know, if I ever got towed by a tow truck with actual toes on it…I might be a little more forgiving.
The Panama Hotel was the centerpiece of Seattle’s once-thriving Japanese community, until every one of the neighborhood’s residents was rounded up and imprisoned during World War II. Many stowed their personal belongings in the basement of the Panama for safekeeping—and never came back to claim them. The few who did return after the war found their homes and businesses had been sold out from under them. Japantown was finished.
To this day, the hotel is still stuffed with personal effects and artifacts from the war era. The Panama is now part hotel, part museum, part tea house. I sketched in the warm light of the front windows this week, trying to capture a sense of what Japantown must have felt like so many decades ago. But all I found was an overwhelming feeling of what has been lost to Seattle—and what will never return.
If you’ve seen the film advertised on the marquee, you’ll know that there probably isn’t a better place to see it than at a bright pink vintage theater.
I’m not really a fan of American football, but I do love seeing (and sketching!) a city transformed by a rare event. And I have to admit, it was pretty hard not to get swept up by all the excitement humming in Seattle’s very bones this weekend. So I’ll go ahead and add my voice to the chorus: Go Hawks!
Now, I have a thing for mid-century Christmas decorations anyway. But a 160-foot star that’s been glowing in all its 4300-bulb glory for over fifty years running? Well, that’s a holiday tradition I can get behind.
This is by far the best use of a chandelier fixture I’ve ever seen. Now if only I could convince the Tailor to let me hang our tree upside-down…
Last week’s Nature Lab post put me in an “educational” frame of mind this weekend—so I thought I’d devote this week to museum sketches. First up are some brand new ones from just a couple of days ago, when I finally had the chance to see the spectacular exhibit of Peruvian art and artifacts at the Seattle Art Museum. The show covers 3,000 years of Peruvian history, so it’s a lot to take in—but it’s worth every scrap of attention you’ve got. That’s where a sketchbook comes in handy, actually—for me, it helps process all that sensory overload, so I can look back later and remember the experience as more than just an art blur.
(A word to fellow sketchers, if you go: museum rules allow sketching only with a pencil inside the galleries—which are pretty dimly lit. So I had to rough these out quickly, squinting with my nose an inch from the book, and then sprint for the nearest coffee shop afterward to ink and paint while I could still remember any color details.)
My favorite part of the show was the fact that it covered both pre-Columbian cultures and art done during and after the Conquista—so even though the sudden switch in subject matter was jarring, it was easy to see how the cultural influence—surprisingly—went in both directions.
So if you find yourself in Seattle over the holidays, grab a sketchbook and take yourself out on an art date. The show is only up through January 5, but if you make the effort to get there, you won’t be disappointed.
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.
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.)
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.