Search Results

Slip Gallery, 2301 1st Ave, Seattle, WA 98121; Hours: Thurs 12-6pm, Fri 12-7pm, Sat 12-6pm, Sun 12-7pm; First Thursday 3/6 until 8pm. Photo by Joe Freeman, Jr. At the entrance is a photo of “purge” written in chalk and seemingly hanging in midair. Nearby is a glass bell with bronze clappers. “Town and Country Crier” is embodied in these works, purge referring to cleaning toxins out of water, and the bell suggesting an announcement is coming. But if you actually ring this bell it will shatter. That takes our imaginations to where we are today. Emergency bells that can’t be heard. Purge is one theme of Buster Simpson’s work. Many of his actions over the years have focused on detoxifying rivers. In this small exhibition one room has a documentation of a major action repeated in many places: he arranges square pieces of limestone in the abstract shape of a frog on the floor. In boxes arranged in a pile we see photographs of some of the places he has placed the limestone frog. The frog is what Simpson refers to as an indicator species, it can indicate the health of an ecosystem. The limestone actually absorbs toxins and cleans the water where it is placed. ( He mentioned that it was a special limestone found only in Texas, which I found amusing). Another reference to toxins, in this case deadly, is a rusted oil barrel with a reference to the smallpox ridden rags that were passed on to Indians. In this room there is also a complex and amusing multimedia piece referring to changing coastlines and climate change with a giant depth measure as well as a crucified haloed “figure” made from branches holding dipsticks. Across the front is a large level with monopoly pieces inside. Simpson’s specialty is multiple overlaid references to what he cares deeply about laced with humor. Another room of the exhibition presents his long work with trees, much of it in the same neighborhood as the gallery and where he lived soon after his arrival in Seattle. Here we see some documentation of various projects, such as planting trees on First Avenue and protecting them with iron bed posts salvaged from SROs. In the center of the gallery is a blackened stump with its bed post protection. It seemed like a sad reference to fire and its destructive capabilities, much on our mind at the moment. A handwritten document from the First Avenue Project identifies the larger issue at stake: working from and with community rather than top down through government mandates. The archival documents fill a wall. They reveal Simpson’s roots in conceptual art, artists who didn’t believe in making objects for sale-instead they make gestures or draw plans for anyone to execute. Simpson stands out because he continues to work with the real world and physical things, but always in a subversive way. But Simpson also works often with large committees and successfully completes projects such as the Brightwater Treatment Plan (with many other artists) and the waterfront “Anthropocene Migration Stage” on the beach near Yesler. Simpson conceived it as a place to sit temporarily until the sea level requires it to migrate away from the waters. As we leave the gallery three bags filled with sand say “Searise Trumps Denial.” ~Susan Platt, PhD www.artandpoliticsnow.com

Early in the 20th century, the Massachusetts-based Olmsted Brothers landscape design firm, designer of New York City’s Central Park and the US Capitol grounds, was commissioned by the City of Seattle to set out a comprehensive plan for Seattle’s parks and scenic boulevards. John C. Olmsted, in surveying the terrain along the ridge from the future Frink Park and southward, saw evidence of a historic propensity for landslides along the area then known as Rainier Heights. He recommended that the entire hillside, from Frink Park southward to what is now Colman Park, become undeveloped parkland. He was concerned that continual landslides would make it difficult for the city to maintain roads and utilities. Olmsted was certainly influenced by the large landslide of 1898. Settlement in the area was new and sparse, and the clearcut hillside had about 16 houses scattered around, plus a lumbermill on the waterfront. A vast slide from the ridgetop, between Charles and Judkins streets, swept the houses downhill and washed the mill into Lake Washington. Olmsted estimated that the land near the top of the ridge “sank from twenty to thirty feet, while the shore line was pushed out into the lake correspondingly.” He predicted that “houses will probably continue to be moved gradually on to adjoining land owned by someone else, and there will be no end to the trouble, expense, and inconvenience due to the continuation of the slide if it is allowed to become occupied by houses.” Olmsted overreacted a bit, he conceded. In 1907 in Frink Park, he noted sudden depressions that he thought were the result of earlier landslides. After a city engineer told him that these markings were remnants from the footings of a former cable-car trestle (removed by 1900), Olmsted retracted his concern about that location. What must not have been known to settlers at the time was the long history of slides in the area. Recent studies have confirmed a years-ago slide sequence not only in this neighborhood, but in various locations around Lake Washington and beyond. At that time, an earthquake along the Seattle Fault lifted parts of West Seattle and Bainbridge Island more than 20 feet. Dated by scientists, these events occurred in the year 923 or 924. The one in Leschi could well be the basis for the Native American cultural memory and oral history of Leschi as slide prone. (Ground movement here was attributed to the resident earth-shaking spirit known as A’yahos, which was bad-vibed away by white settlers.) How were those ancient slides dated so closely? Researchers examined growth rings from several trees salvaged from Lake Washington; they had fallen into the lake as a result of the slide a millennium ago. Those trees were selected based on radiocarbon dating, which is accurate to within a few hundred years. All trees of the same type in the same area have the same ring widths for a given year, correlating to weather patterns. In each case examined, the selected trees’ outer ring was fully developed, without indication of the coming year’s growth, so the trees must have died in the fall, winter, or early spring. To more closely specify the time, a study referenced an unusual burst of solar radiation that occurred between the years 774 and 775. According that report, “this rapid, large magnitude (~10%) radiocarbon excursion … is recorded globally in tree cellulose and can therefore be used as an exact geochronological anchor point.” For any tree alive at that time, rings can be counted forward to pinpoint its season of death. This was done in the case of the trees discussed here. * The city, for its part, did not accept Olmsted’s advice to avoid settlement on the ridge. As a result, Seattle has engaged in major efforts to stabilize the hillside. A 1935 report to the City Council said, “Earth slides have been, and always will be, a major problem in this city. … great slide [areas] extend around … the slopes leading up from Lake Washington.” Next month: Early 20th century slides and the city’s prevention work ~Roger Lippman The author writes monthly about Leschi history and his experiences over his 49 years in the neighborhood.

February was Black History Month. Instead of tackling the interesting and rich history of our Black neighbors, here is an overview of one Black pioneer, an unusual, sad-happy personal tale. Horace R. Cayton’s maternal grandfather’s portrait was proudly displayed in his Seattle parlor. Grandfather Revels was a quiet gentleman and an ordained minister, a Doctor of Divinity, and had been a college president and U.S. Senator during Reconstruction. Raised on Seattle’s Capitol Hill in the early 1900s, Cayton recalled his family’s two-story white house facing Volunteer Park. Quakerism permeated the home, a horse-drawn carriage stood outside the door, a Japanese servant was on duty, and “mixing” was avoided. Such “mixing” had nothing to do the white neighbors, but rather with what the Cayton family viewed as misbehaving Black residents occupying what was known as the “Sporting Areas” downtown and in the Central city. Newspaper editor Cayton and his family were aristocrats. Cayton family activities devoted to what Cayton’s mother called “uplift” were a family priority. “I will rise” societies were common features of early Black American communities, perhaps more social than sociological. For example, Cayton’s mother founded the Dorcus Charity Club, referred to at the time by the Seattle Times  as “the Darky’s Charitable Club.” Cayton’s blackness was realized when he ventured into other Seattle neighborhoods. For example, on Halloween Horace and his brother and sisters blackened their faces but avoided actually ringing a white family’s doorbell. Cayton’s mother once rushed them into the basement and began furtively reading the Bible aloud. When her children asked what was wrong, she said “your father hit a white man.” Booker T. Washington visited Seattle during the 1909 Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition (AYP) and stayed with the Caytons. The senior Cayton proudly showed his guest the great Seattle mansions of Capitol Hill. Washington, however, to the chagrin of Mr. Cayton, wanted to visit the Black neighborhoods. Cayton recalled a story that Washington told his hosts during that memorable visit. After he had a much-publicized lunch with President Theodore Roosevelt, several Georgia “crackers” approached Washington, one of them saying, “Booker, we think you are the greatest living American.” Dr. Washington replied, “How can you say that? What about President Roosevelt?” Oh, the inquisitive Georgian answered: “We used to think he was the greatest until he had lunch with you.” Cayton dates the failure of his father’s paper, called the Seattle Republican , to a story in that paper which gruesomely described the lynching of a Southern negro. Cancellations poured in, “official” visitors arrived at the house — all of this as race relations began to change in Seattle. The Cayton family had attempted to straddle the line between white and black (one of Cayton’s light-skinned sisters passed for white). The family carriage, servant, and home were lost. Cayton recalls moving to a small house in Rainier Valley, and later to an apartment on 22nd Avenue near Jackson Street. His parents’ marriage foundered. Young Cayton found himself fighting Italian schoolmates at Colman School. Franklin High School was where Cayton’s personality began to emerge. English courses and the debate team were an attraction. Open race prejudice was repugnant. Soon rebelliousness got the better of the bright young man. He entered the adult world by shipping to Alaska as a crew member. A world of trouble, travel, sexual adventures, and struggles for an education became Horace Cayton’s life. He flirted with labor radicalism, marriage, and earning a degree at the University of Chicago. Choosing journalism, like his father, Cayton began a serious career in newspapers and government that resulted in his managing a milestone study of negro ghettos in America and authoring two other books. Washingtonian Horace R. Cayton’s life represented a battle within himself and between two societies, white and Black. He won both battles, but his life has been largely forgotten. ~Junius Rochester Junius Rochester, whose family has shaped the city for many generations, is an award-winning Northwest historian and author of numerous books about Seattle and other places.

This column highlights the many restaurants lining Jackson Street beginning in Leschi at Jackson and 31st Ave. S. and down to Rainier Ave. Jackson Street offers a wide selection of food choices from pizza, international, barbeque, sushi, pub food, soul food, before hitting the mecca of great Asian restaurants in the ID. Join me as we take a short drive, walk, bike or hop the 14 bus to check out nearby spots. The Wonder Ethiopian Restaurant Wonder Coffee and Sports Bar , 1800 S. Jackson, open Mon-Thurs from 11am to 11pm, Fri and Sat 11am to 1pm, Closed Tues. Prices range for $15-22, meat combination platter is $33, vegetable platter $18. The bar features an extensive selection of cocktails, beer, and wine. The Central Area is a hub for Ethiopian cuisine. From Cherry Street down to Jackson, there are many restaurants to try. The Wonder Coffee and Sports Bar, the location of the former Wonder Bread Bakery on Jackson, has been serving its version of Ethiopian food for over a decade. As well has Ethiopian food, it has standard bar foods such as hamburger and fries and other sandwiches. Half of a sports car is placed in the entry sets the stage for a dining experience surrounded by screens and Seahawk banners. I questioned if a sports bar atmosphere would take away for enjoying the delightful experience of sharing a platter of Ethiopian food. Instead, the sound was off on the games and world music was playing in the background. The ample dining area has tables with fresh white table cloths and although the music is a bit loud, it’s fairly quiet given the tall ceilings. Having traveled to Ethiopia, my husband was pleased to see the variety of authentic offerings on the menu when we had dinner on a cold, drizzly night. We were immediately greeted with a warm welcome and the smell of spicy, slow-cooked food. The next week a friend, who lived In Ethiopia for a while, joined me for lunch and she too was struck by the unique flavors of the vegetable platter we chose. She declared the food “the best Ethiopian food I’ve had in Seattle.” Wonder’s Ethiopian offers the traditional cuisine of some spicy and mild meat and vegetable dishes served on a large platter with small mounds of meat and vegetable stews artfully placed on injera, a spongy sourdough flatbread. Traditionally, one does not eat with utensils but instead you have roll of your own injera to break apart pieces to scoop up dishes with your hand. The injera soaks up the juices making each bite flavorful. However, it is perfectly okay to ask for a spoon or fork. Some of the meat and vegetable dishes can be very spicy but there are cooked greens, lentils, vegetables or a feta-like cheese to cut the heat. Our server Meron guided us through the restaurant’s menu which features wat which is a hearty stew, stirred fried meat called tibs, and many vegetarian options. The menu offers a variety of meat and fish entrees and many vegetarian options. You can create your own platter or eat a singular portion. We decided to have some dessert and listen to the St. Bee’s duo who play on Friday nights. Our choice of baklava was disappointing. However, our choice of staying to listen to jazz was very enjoyable.  We liked the musical journey the duo took us on from standards to rock classics with jazz arrangements. Eating Ethiopian-style is a communal experience with brings a slowing down and sharing of tastes with your friends and family.  On one of Seattle’s gray days or chilly evenings, the Wonder is a nice escape and a chance to explore a unique cultural cuisine. It’s a warm, intimate experience with a friendly host and his chef wife, reservations recommended. I like it so much; I’ve been reluctant to write a review hoping it won’t become inaccessible. ~Mary Carter Creech

Seattle Art Museum, 1300 1st Ave, Seattle, WA 98101 Runs until June 1, 2025 Thaddeus Mosley in his studio First, we think that these two artists, Alexander Calder and Thaddeus Mosley, could not possibly be more dissimilar in this new iteration of the Calder donation curated by Catherina Manchanda. “Following Space,” the title of their joint exhibition at the Seattle Art Museum, captures the central feeling of the exhibition. As we walk through the galleries, we do indeed feel we are following the spaces that both of these artists carve and cut and slice in their sculptures. But how different they are! Calder’s mobiles are light and constantly moving with many small pieces of metal hanging from fragile wires.  Mosley’s work is heavy, made of chiseled tree trunks. Calder uses industrial materials like sheet metal, Mosley uses only wood, Calder emphasizes lines created by wire and light shapes of metal, Mosley chisels carefully on solid shapes. Thaddeus Mosley, Following Space, 2016. Cherry. Overall: 117×28×28in. But we must look again at this provocative pairing. In the first gallery we see White Panel  1936 by Alexander Calder and First Port,  2008, by Mosley.  Calder’s work descends from on high, while Mosley’s work reaches up. The carefully chiseled wood creates a sense of liberating the wood from itself. Following Space , 2016 in the center of the gallery, gives the exhibition its title, and is even more clearly rising up from its base. Mosley works with wood that he finds in the forest, cherry and walnut. The wood is chiseled carefully to highlight the given shape of the log, then he connects separate pieces by inserting it into a notch or large hole in the wood. This use of notches means that the pieces balance with no outside support, unlike Calder’s mobiles which balance with carefully calculated lengths of wire and the weight of the small pieces of metal. Calder’s mobiles seem to almost flutter like clouds sometimes. Mosley is entirely self- taught, his rhythms drawn from jazz seen in the abstraction of his shapes. But he has also looked at African sculpture from Dogon, Senufo, Banum and Mossi. He has his own collection of African sculpture. The African artists also carved wood with many different results.  Often they were figurative, but also they sometimes allowed the shape of the wood to speak on its own, making an abstract shape. Mosley also learned from looking at Giacometti and Brancusi  who work in bronze and stone. Mosley’s work brings together these inspirations in an original composition in wood. Some of Mosley’s pieces seem to sit solidly on the ground, like Oval Continuity , 2017 that appears to be a carefully cut large oval ball.  But the more we look at it, the more we feel it is about to burst forth into some magnificent vertical shape. Next to Mosley’s Oval Continuity  is Calder’s Bougainvillea , 1947. It has a base on the ground, but it bursts forth in delicate flowers in all directions. Other examples of pieces that appear to be grounded, but also rise up are Little Escalation,  2018 and Bended , 2018. They are single pieces of wood, with no insertions or extensions, but they too seem to be straining upward with an accordion pleat or a twist. Mosley is 97 years old! He has been making sculpture since the 1950s. But only in the last few years has he achieved real recognition. He readily admits that is because he is Black. The current situation for artists of color is more open and accepting. But if we were to see one of these muscular sculptures without knowing the artist, we would still be overwhelmed by their beauty: the artist’s respect for wood as a material shines through as we look at his careful chisel marks and his surprising shapes and juxtapositions. It is sometimes tempting to anthropomorphize his shapes, an animal, a bird, a face, but look again and it is gone. Fortunately, you have time to see this show, (it ends on June 1) but don’t put it off. I have been three times and each time I experienced it entirely differently. Hats off to Catharina Manchanda for this wonderful idea. ~Susan Platt, PhD www.artandpoliticsnow.com

The Army Camp: A Researcher’s Odyssey Part 3 Soon after my second search through school district papers for references to the army camp at Garfield’s playfield, I was invited by chance to a reading from a new book, “We Are Not Strangers,” by local artist and writer Josh Tuininga. It’s the story of a friendship between Sam Akiyama, a Japanese American, and Marco Calvo, a Sephardic Jew in Seattle who was a great-great uncle of the author. When Mr. Akiyama and his family, along with most other Japanese Americans in the western US, were taken away to concentration camps in 1942, his Jewish friend offered to look after the family’s business and property. At the end of the war, the family returned to Seattle and found all of their possessions and affairs intact. This was unusual; Japanese American property was often stolen or ruined, sometimes by people who had pledged to care for it. The surname Calvo was familiar to me. Back in the 1970s I had been friends with a fellow around my age with that family name, and I knew he was Sephardic. We hadn’t seen each other in decades, but I knew how to find him because of our common interest in hydroplane racing, so I called him out of the blue. We remembered each other well. When I told him that I was interested in learning more about the relationships between Japanese Americans and Sephardim, he offered to introduce me to some community elders. Before long, he connected me with a circle of nonagenarians, actual eyewitnesses to the army camp: people who had lived within walking distance of it. Several of the old-timers told me that they saw a searchlight in a “nest” surrounded by sandbags. The Garfield camp was a spotting location for anti-aircraft brigades. There was great fear of bombing by Japanese planes, especially attacks targeted on Boeing, shipyards, and Seattle’s port. Searchlights scanned the night sky for enemy bombers for at least three years. There were tents for the company of about 30 soldiers, with water piped to the site for makeshift showers. A fellow who was a pre-teen at the time and lived directly across the street recalls that soldiers would visit his family to take indoor showers, and officers would sometimes be invited to dinner. Housewives brought cookies to the army men. After the soldiers left, their tents remained for a while. My informant told me that he would climb into tents and find “girlie magazines” left behind. Typical army anti-aircraft searchlight from World War II, 4 or 5 feet in diameter. No one, however, has repeated the notion that the camp was there to spy on the Japanese community. It was not a suitable location. The Japanese American district was centered from Yesler to Jackson up to about 14th Avenue, much closer to downtown in what is still known as Nihonmachi, or Japantown. And it is now evident that the camp was an installation for spotting enemy bombers, not a spy center, based on the observations of contemporary eyewitnesses. My supposition is reinforced by the school board minutes regarding Franklin and West Seattle: the Army’s request came from its Anti-Aircraft Division. Once I had learned that I was looking for documentation on anti-aircraft installations, I got back in touch with the National Archives. The specialist there on pre-1960 military records found something of interest. But before returning to the Archives in Maryland, I followed up on another lead the Archives provided: a HistoryLink story entitled “Guns force children from city parks in 1942.” The article reported that, in January 1942, army anti-aircraft guns took over city parks to defend Seattle from aerial attack. Troops of the 63rd Coast Artillery Regiment (Anti-Aircraft) installed guns and searchlights. My search of Seattle Parks Department archives produced 56 pages, which further revealed that in April 1944, the army contacted the Parks Department, noting that the military’s occupancy of numerous parks had been covered by a variety of informal agreements, and that it would be in the interest of both the government and the Parks Department to formalize the arrangements. The Parks Board requested and obtained from the City Council an ordinance (#73374) ratifying the Army’s use of the parks. But I have found no such documentation for the school district. Declassified drawing showing Garfield HS playfield: location of army searchlight Camp, marked by arrow a bit north of the floating bridge. (Present-day Powell Barnett Park). Camp, marked by arrow a bit north of the floating bridge. (Present-day Powell Barnett Park). On my return to the National Archives, I searched an index for documents mentioning Seattle or searchlight. I combed through several boxes of folders without finding anything helpful, until I was just about at the bottom of the pile. Folded and taped into the back of a binder was an 11” x 17” piece of tracing paper with what looked like a hand-drawn map. It was evident that trying to remove the tape would damage the paper, so I went to the help desk. My problem was escalated through the bureaucracy, finally ending up in the hands of the document conservation office. The job of Archives is to make information available to the public, and they were happy to do what would be necessary, but it was going to sit on someone’s desk for a few weeks till it reached the top of the queue. I paid a $20 fee, and eventually I received a good-quality scan of the whole drawing. It showed the location of every searchlight defense installation in Seattle and vicinity from December 14, 1941 (a week after Pearl Harbor was attacked) to September 1944. And sure enough, one of them is marked right where Powell Barnett Park sits today. After a while, a helpful staffer at the Wing Luke Museum reached out to one of Sally Tsutsumoto’s daughters, who reported that Sally is in fact alive but doesn’t remember the playfield being used as an army camp. Eventually the daughter invited me to meet Sally. It was true, Sally no longer recalled the army camp, but it was delightful, finally, to close the circle and meet the person with whom the whole story had begun. What I don’t know, and probably never will, is what Sally actually said to her interviewer. It’s possible that Sally and others believed that the Army was spying on their community. But she might have been misunderstood or misinterpreted. The key quotation: “While Japanese-Americans isolated themselves within their homes, military troops established stations to monitor Japanese activity.” Note that “Japanese” activity was to be monitored. In the context, it sounds like that refers to Japanese American activity. But perhaps Sally really knew what it was about: the searchlights, looking for Japanese bombers. ~Roger Lippman The author writes monthly about Leschi history and his experiences over his 48 years in the neighborhood.

This column highlights the many restaurants lining Jackson Street beginning in Leschi at Jackson and 31st Ave. S. and down to Rainier Ave. Jackson Street offers a wide selection of food choices from pizza, international, barbeque, sushi, pub food, soul food, before hitting the mecca of great Asian restaurants in the ID. Join me as we take a short drive, walk, bike or hop the 14 bus to check out nearby spots. When You Crave Barbeque Reckless Noodle House , 2519 S. Jackson, open Mon-Thurs from 4-11pm, Fri and Sat 4pm to midnight, and Sunday 4-10pm. There is seating inside and an outdoor patio (ask if it is open). There is a very good wine, craft beer and fun cocktail list. Happy Hour starts at 4pm every day with varying hours. Reckless Noodle House owners named their restaurant to reflect not only their love of Asian-inspired food but a passion for the outdoor sports, adventure, and travel. Look around and you will see surf boards, mountains and landscapes, and a bathroom wall papered in surfing and beach photos. Started as a tiny restaurant almost 10 years ago, the immediate popularity of the restaurant helped grow it to twice its size today. Most nights it is packed with adventurous eaters enjoying the lively atmosphere and Asian food with the chef’s special twist. The menu is divided into Snacks and Small Bites ($9-19) which include many dishes easily shared, Large Bites which are larger entrees, ($19-27), Wok Bites which are bowls of rice or noodle dishes ($18-27). Remember the restaurant is named Reckless which translates into many spicy and bold dishes on the menu. But be assured there are many milder dishes, just ask your server for advice or how to lessen the heat. Recently I met up with friends on a rainy, cold evening eager to be warmed by the comfort of Asian-inspired foods. I’ve eaten at Reckless many times and have always liked the food. We were on the early side and discovered the restaurant was not as full as we thought it might be. Our server Joe said they had just finished the two-week run of Restaurant Week when every evening was full so having a mellow night was appreciated. However, by the time we left, the restaurant was buzzing with most tables and the bar filled. Joe gave a mouthwatering description of the evening special which we could not pass up: Lobster Rangoon Bao ($14), two bao buns filled with creamy lobster sauce and just a little kick of heat. We also ordered Mu Xu, a tasty crispy roast duck roll ($10) filled with wood ear mushrooms, carrots, scallion which you wrap in lettuce and dip into a sauce of hoisin. For our main dishes we had the Reckless Fried Rice ($19), a bowl of coconut rice seasoned with turmeric, Thai basil, scallions, tomato, cucumber and seasoned with chili jam, and soy and topped with a soft boiled or scrambled egg. It was the perfect comfort food for the rainy night. You can add on either pork belly, pastrami, prawns or tofu. I added pastrami and my friend added tofu. The other two both ordered a seared turmeric rockfish ($21) seasoned with dill, fennel, lemongrass, galangal, coconut cream, fresh herbs and served on top vermicelli noodles with a toasted chili lime fish sauce on the side. Both were delighted with the dish and said it was perfectly cooked and the topping was flavorful. I had a taste and agreed with them. We shared a coconut tapioca pudding with roasted pineapple and coconut ($7). The bites of the cooling dessert gave a refreshing ending to our meal. Reckless can get noisy. If you want quiet, come early and ask for a table near the front, or the heated patio. They do not take reservations but there is a wait option on their website which makes it easy to stay home and wait until a table is ready. Take-out orders are popular as well, with some folks eating theirs at the Dog Bar across the street where dogs are allowed but no cooking on the premise. ~Mary Carter Creech

Once again, the BluWater Bistro has been holding its end-of-year annual fundraising effort for Leschi Elementary. Buy a $100 gift card and BluWater will make a matching donation of $100 to the school. This is the fifth year BluWater has supported neighborhood students. The goal is to raise $10,000 and this year Bart Evans and his staff hope to surpass that amount. Check with them now to see if you can still get in on this generous and vital effort to make an immediate impact at our local school. If it is too late, plan for next year! https://bluwaterbistro.com/leschi-elementary/ From Bart Evans: “p.s. Yes, we know we lose money on this. Please don't email us about learning math. c'mon it's for the kids.” ~Anne Depue

Come learn about the new Jackson Street Jazz Trail. Join Paul de Barros, nationally renowned jazz critic, book author, and a living archive of local jazz lore as he presents a journey through the music scene that established Jackson Street as one of the nation’s leading jazz hubs from the 1930s to 1950s. Paul will tell stories about local clubs where the likes of Ray Charles, Quincy Jones, Ernestine Anderson, and Billie Holiday played and sang. And he will introduce the new app that allows you to map where those places were located and to see how the landscape has changed. Copies of Shall We Play That One Together , Paul’s biography of the great jazz pianist and radio host Marian MacPartland, will be available for purchase. ~Anne Depue

Want to get involved in the LCC but aren’t sure where to start? Join us on January 7, 6-8pm at the Grace United Methodist Church where we’ll be setting our 2025 priorities and projects! Some of the ideas on the agenda include monthly event programming, green spaces, Leschi ArtWalk, public safety, and the  Leschi News . Interested but don’t want to over-commit yourself? Don’t worry—all levels of involvement are welcome! If you have ideas but can’t join the meeting, reach out to us at leschicouncil@gmail.com . Looking forward to seeing you on the 7th! ~Nicola Davidson

This column highlights the many restaurants lining Jackson Street beginning in Leschi at Jackson and 31st Ave. S. and down to Rainier Ave. Jackson Street offers a wide selection of food choices from pizza, international, barbeque, sushi, pub food, soul food, before hitting the mecca of great Asian restaurants in the ID. Join me as we take a short drive, walk, bike or hop the 14 bus to check out nearby spots. When You Crave Barbeque Wood Shop BBQ, 2513 S. Jackson, open every day from 11am to 8pm. There is ample seating both inside and out and a bar offering a nice selection of craft beers and cocktails. The bartender and staff have the affability that goes well with a good BBQ joint. Wood Shop BBQ on S. Jackson pays homage to the roots of barbeque by a graphic at the entrance highlighting the famous barbeque meccas in our country – Kansas City, St. Louis, Memphis. Austin, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Salina, Kansas. Where and why, you ask Salina, Kansas? It is the hometown of the co-owner Matt Owens and the inspiration for the restaurant’s style of BBQ. Seattle has many barbeque restaurants each having their own take on the way to cook the meat and a sauce that best complements. The author Calvin Trillin helped to sell the world on Kansas City barbeque and spread the gospel of finding redemption in a well-balanced sauce whether it be tomato or vinegar based. Wood Shop BBQ brings this same Kansas love to their version of barbeque along with introducing tastes from the other regions. The meats are smoked in giant smokers in the back using wood brought in from various parts of the country. The sauce is a tangy tomato which comes in a mild and a hot version called The Ghost . I have been to the restaurant several times with friends and family, always loving the smell of barbeque filling the air. While I have enjoyed the variety of sandwiches including the brisket ($15), pork spareribs ($18) and pulled pork ($13), I recently discovered the smoked chicken sandwich ($14) which was delightfully tender and with just the right amount of smokiness. All the sandwiches are served on a brioche roll with pickles and buttermilk cole slaw on the side. There’s also a variety of mac & cheese bowls to choose which come with their four meats and portobello machaca. They are around $16. My nephew had the chicken wings and merely said “Wow!” as he smiled and wiped sauce from his mouth. Recently friends and I had take-out and chose a selection of meats sold by the pound and half pound. We chose brisket ($34), pork spare ribs ($34) and smoked chicken ($24) and for sides we had the Cole slaw and potato salad sold by the quart. The favorite of the group was the smoked chicken with regrets we had not ordered more. The ribs also were a hit as the meat was done to perfection and easily fell off the bone and into your mouth. We enjoyed the brisket but there were comparisons to other BBQ restaurants offering brisket a bit juicier and moister. While the house made potato salad had a very fresh taste primarily due to a generous amount of dill, it seemed lacking in character. However, the humble cole slaw, which usually comes in second place, managed to knock the potato salad out of the park. Its dressing is well balanced and complements the meats well. We definitely are a group who have been around the barbeque pit! One friend who is an author pursued the restaurant while we waited for our take-out and sent me his thoughts. “The interior is clean and basic, some simple tables on a beautifully polished wood floor, but you won't find any polished china or cutlery—orders come in paper-lined plastic baskets. Walk down a hall whose walls educate you on the attributes of five common woods used for smoking; mesquite, post oak, alder, apple, hickory (hint; for strong flavor, skip the alder), through a door, and you're into the business end of the establishment, with its two huge awe-inspiring 1000-gallon Moberg Smokers with four chambers each, enough to handle 30 briskets at a time. Here also in the industrial zone are picnic tables under a cover, allowing diners to sample the smokers' products protected from any relentless drizzle and rain that the Seattle sky might choose to unleash.” ~Mary Carter Creech

Seattle Art Museum, 1300 First Avenue, Seattle, 98101Runs until January 19, 2025. “I want to be amazed when I’m working. I want to confound myself. I want to tell a new story each time. I want to see the poetry in it. I want to see the labor in it. It is a kind of sacred embrace. That’s the part you use to create. That’s the part that others may not know or see.” Joyce Scott is not afraid to be in your face. It has helped in her expressive journey that she learned about the peyote stitch in 1976 from Native American artist Sandy Fife Wilson. The peyote stitch is created off a loom allowing much more freedom for the artist than simply attaching her chosen medium, beads, to a flat surface. We see it used throughout the works in the exhibition. Let us start where the exhibition begins with her sense of connectivity through generations of her family in art making. We first see a large construction made of fabric, with quilts on the walls outside. Inside beaded “quilts” hang on the walls of a “living room” setting complete with a comfortable sofa, sculpture, books, and art works from many cultures. Scott titles this work The Threads That Unite My Seat to Knowledge , 2024. It brings together quilts by her mother (Elizabeth Talford Scott (Fifty Year Quilt, 1930–80); maternal grandmother, Mary Jane Caldwell; maternal grandfather, Samuel Caldwell; and godmother, Lucille Foster Brown. Inside is a quilt by her paternal grandmother. This connection across generations is accompanied by sculpture in the same gallery that suggest three powerful images of black womanhood: the birth of a baby, the birth of a dead baby and the selling of white body parts by a black woman (called Dead Albino Boy for Sale  from the Series Flayed Tanzanian Albinos, 2021-2022 ). An early group of works titled Mammie Wadi 1979-1981 (Mother Water)  refers to black people who are now in the ocean and have transformed into semi aquatic forms or goddesses. “I’m a water sign. I also have always lived near water. Many religions see underwater as where a lot of the powerful Orishas or gods are. Bones are at the bottom, people who jumped off slave ships or who were thrown off. Ships that went down, planes that drop.” Look closely at the dresses and many necklaces throughout the exhibition that contain small souvenirs from other cultures, reflecting Scott’s own life experiences. Each gallery has a theme, I can’t cover them all here. For example there is the Black Nanny series, The Racist Stereotypes, Messing with Stereotypes, (in collaboration in one work Donald Byrd of Spectrum Dance ). Her fearless confrontation with stereotypes like the hypermasculinity of black men is seen in her works like Cuddly Black Dick  from 1995-7. She includes so many aspects of black stereotyping and mythology that it would take pages to discuss them all. An almost room size installation of a white person being lynched, hanging upside down from a tree, suggests her rage and her courage. In the same section she sends up Aunt Jemima, watermelons and most shockingly, Baby Bait  a pair of earrings that refer to a practice celebrated by Southern racists, to feed black baby children to alligators. On a more cheerful note her delightful Thunder Thigh Review , 1975-1990, flows with her sense of humor and irony. The theme of celebrating the magnificent posteriors of black woman in contrast to the skinny white body was hugely entertaining as well as sending up traditional concepts of beauty. Scott’s frequently intersects with African sculpture as in Birth of Mammi (Anansi) , in which the artist has added complex bead work to an African carving to suggest the birth of Anansi, a spider who is a mythical African trickster. Other section titles are Rest and Reflection, Making A Way When there is no Way , (sexual and physical violence) and Ancestor and Progeny. At the end of the exhibition with “Turning the Tables”, we are given an opportunity to join in communal weaving, the yarn is supplied as is the frame. It returns to the theme at the beginning of the exhibition, of her powerful intergenerational experience and inspiration, only now we are also part of it as well: As Joyce Scott put it at the end of the show: “I am a sharer. I don’t sit on my knowledge. When I go over, I want to leave a cadre of people who are like, “That Joyce” taught me this stitch. Watch me write a whole new book with that stitch. That is a kind of legacy.” ~Susan Platt, PhD www.artandpoliticsnow.com