Disturbing thrift-store coffee mugs.
When artist Buddy Bunting spotted “the distinctive illumination of prison lights” while driving through Victorville, a town 60 miles northeast…
“You want to paint a hand? Well, if you realize that it is a hand, you’re fucked.” That’s how 19th-century…
The Henry may be prone to explaining—in excruciating grad school–speak—how some inscrutable piece of art is actually undermining our “received…
Emma Jean’s is a scrupulously tidy antique store that smells like fresh flowers instead of the usual dust. Among the…
The Bellevue Arts Museum is a good place to visit if you think today’s smart-aleck artists have no respect for…
Three dozen or so five-inch-square canvases that appear to be painted from blurry photos—doesn’t sound very promising, does it? But…
“Hopes shattered!” promises the street sign for the Klondike Gold Rush National Historical Park, and there is indeed schadenfreude involved…
There’s probably more than a little retro fetish involved in my love of signs that spell out a building’s name…
Bradd Skubinna’s Gabe Liked Jazz is a pile of trash on the floor that looks like a wedding cake, a…
In Peter Bagge’s new compilation of comics, Everybody Is Stupid Except for Me and Other Astute Observations (Fantagraphics, $16.99), there’s…
At one time the drummer for a manic band called Agitpop that toured with the Minutemen (he still corresponds with…
Pouring paint into a hole in the ground? Madness! Cutting holes in the canvas—the precious, sacred canvas? Why, it’s as…
Wind Cradle looks like six giant blades of grass, or the magnified cartoon facial hairs in a razor commercial. The…
[Editor’s Note: This piece has been corrected since it was first posted. It originally described Yamamoto as having arrived in…
I have to confess that I usually approach Western Bridge with irritation. Located way the hell down Fourth Avenue South,…
UW students at the Henry.
The murder of George Tiller (can we please stop calling him “late-term abortion provider George Tiller”?) is at one end…
Open the door to this dazzlingly elaborate installation, and heavy air instantly steams up your glasses, lush foliage drips moisture…
Steve Heilmer at the Chapel of St. Ignatius.
