THURSDAY 9/8

Visual Arts: Tiny Yellow Memories

The English writer and artist Clare Johnson has an obsession that measures three inches square and is usually canary yellow. “Most nights before I go to bed,” she writes, “I draw a picture on a Post-it® Note. Post-its are perhaps the epitome of an ordinary, daily effort at remembering. They are designed to help you hold onto all the various things that are slipping out of your mind, the things that you are losing each day.” Accordingly, her Post-it Note Project will feature more than 1,000 drawings she’s made over the past five years. And since tonight’s artist reception coincides with the Capitol Hill Blitz Arts Walk, visitors will be encouraged to draw their own Post-it creations. Your whimsy, tortured confessions, and meditations on time are welcomed. Johnson terms her own tiny sketches “an exploration both of compulsive if measured behavior and a continual reminder that the days pass with or without my acquiescence.” We know just the feeling. (Through Oct. 14.) Richard Hugo House, 1634 11th Ave., 322-7030, hugohouse.org. Free (cash bar). Opening reception 5–8 p.m. BRIAN MILLER

FRIDAY 9/9

Music/Film: Two Strings, Few Words

Before there was indie rock (or mp3s or iTunes or the Internet), there was college rock—way back in the ’80s, when a Boston band called Treat Her Right enjoyed modest success. Guitarist Mark Sandman was already in his 30s then, older than his fans, but he still hadn’t hit it big. Sandman’s subsequent band, Morphine, changed all that, and the sultry, noir-tinged trio toured constantly before his untimely death onstage in 1999. But the fans who’ll come to see Cure for Pain: The Mark Sandman Story know all that. The doc includes plenty of performance clips, testimonials from his musical peers, and home movies from his family. It’s more tribute than trenchant, since Sandman was, in his manager’s words, “a secretive guy.” Coy with the press, with a witty, deadpan economy of word, his cultivated cool was part of Morphine’s pared- down aesthetic. Whether he’s bemused or aloof, you really can’t tell. But Morphine’s sound, unlike Sandman’s ’80s contemporaries, is still unique, rumbling, and grave. (Through Sun.) Northwest Film Forum, 1515 12th Ave., 267-5380, nwfilmforum.org. $6–$9. 7 p.m. BRIAN MILLER

Dance: No Roses

The stereotype of tango includes a couple dressed all in black, slinking across the floor to “Hernando’s Hideaway” with roses clenched in their teeth. The reality of the form, a descendant of 19th-century brothel entertainments, is considerably more varied and far more exciting. Michelle Badion‘s Tango Cabaret features a mix of old-school traditions and contemporary variations. Maestro Pampa Cortés comes from the wellspring of Argentine tango, and his dances with Badion will reflect the subtle power of traditional style. In contrast, Momo Smitt, the self-proclaimed “tango rapper,” combines tango rhythms and hip-hop for a streetwise version of the classic dance. Century Ballroom, 915 E. Pine St., 324-7263, centuryballroom.com. $30. 7:30 p.m. tonight and Sat. SANDRA KURTZ

SATURDAY 9/10

Sports: Pull!

Every fitness craze has its salable moment: yoga balls, punching bags, power-walking, elliptical trainers, rocker shoes, and lately that Shake Weight gadget. But you know what isn’t advertised on late-night TV? Rope. That’s the beauty and purity of today’s Tug of War Seattle tournament, in which some 400 athletes (in teams of eight) will compete in brackets. And by athletes we mean ordinary folks like you, not the steroidal monsters of ESPN2. That means you can join up with co-workers, friends, fellow gym rats, drinking buddies, or people you randomly meet in the park today. The daylong event, which benefits Big Brothers Big Sisters of Puget Sound, is designed to be both down-and-dirty and friendly. Old clothes, gloves, and soccer cleats are recommended; but since prizes are given for costumes, expect to see men in tutus, too. Oh, and if your team wants to practice in advance, you can find all the equipment you need at the local hardware store. Magnuson Park, 7400 Sand Point Way N.E., seattletugofwar.com. $60 (individual), $240 (team). 10 a.m.–3 p.m. BRIAN MILLER

Arts & Culture: Marching to Beacon Hill

You’ve got four hours to cover 3.1 miles in the NEPO 5K Don’t Run art walk, which then concludes with an after- party/exhibition (with more art) at NEPO House on Beacon Hill. That’s not far to walk (or bike or skate or Segway), but the point is to linger at more than 30 art installations and performances en route. There’s a downloadable map to follow, which also lists the 80-plus local artists involved. Among the promised attractions, the Vis-a-Vis Society will polka for you at the starting point, Baso Fibonacci has painted a new mural, Zack Bent is doing something with tents, and Julie Alpert and Andy Arkley will create some kind of an elephant. You can seek refreshment during the trek at the Garden House, El Quetzal, and other restaurants offering food specials to art walkers. At the end of the journey (close to the light-rail station), the festivities will extend to the garage next door, with music (by Whiting Tennis and others) and dancing (with DJ Seth Damm) until midnight. Occidental Park, Occidental Ave. S. & S. Main St., nepohouse.org. Free. 2 p.m. (gathering), 6–10 p.m. (party at NEPO House, 1723 S. Lander St). T. BONILLA

MONDAY 9/12

Film: Born Cheap

Nitpicky enough to please film-history nerds but lively in a way that should tickle the merely curious, Elijah Drenner’s informative history of exploitation movies, American Grindhouse, may preach only to the converted. Pity, because while the doc relies heavily on static bloviation, it also deftly traces the lineage from cheapjack, self-distributed cinematic slop to the enduring indie boom. Drenner covers all the bases, from roadshow “hygiene” crypto-porn to nudies, roughies, biker flicks, and beyond. Schlock luminaries like the swaggering, very funny Fred Williamson and gore impresario Herschell Gordon Lewis turn up to add color (and, in Lewis’ case, severely overestimate their influence). A few clued-in critics also drop in to provide context. Clips abound, and Drenner doesn’t skimp on money shots: The climax of 1945’s birth-of-a-baby megahit Mom and Dad is here in all its clinical ickiness. (Through Thurs.) Grand Illusion, 1403 N.E. 50th St., 523-3935, grandillusioncinema.org. $5–$7. 7 and 9 p.m. MARK HOLCOMB