I found myself wandering aimlessly at the Olympia Art Walk last night, and in every aimless direction there was something new to see in a sort of Puyallup-Fair-meets-Pioneer-Square odd way. One street had a crowd oohing, ahhing, and giggling over the real-person bride statuary in the window of Slyphide Design. I’ve never been a wedding-gooey gal, but the dresses upstairs made me think maybe someday the dreaded aisle wouldn’t be so bad.
Another street had a jeweler cum artist (Michael Nutter) whose oil canvasses danced with as much fire as that fat and sassy diamond and ruby bezel-set pendant I wanted. Yet another street had glass art by a tile-setter gone glass artist, ant the streets were alive with the sounds of music â€" jazzy music, folky music, incite-a-crowd-to-pleasure music.
I loved the bright and bold works by Sarah Utter in room 30; I loved that the crowd echoed my “this is the coolest could be in San Francisco shop, EVER!†And I loved that, despite the mess being stomped into Jenny Rose’s carpet, the first year anniversary of room 30’s existence was going off swimmingly (and I will buy hand-made felt food).
On another first year anniversary note, Veritas Olympia celebrated there first 12 months, as well, with a packed house and an awesome band.
My own favorite art: the 12 months of bras, created by a lovely group who would like you to remember to get a mammogram. Talking to two cool chicas admiring bras as I admired them, I learned of another cool thing happening in my own neck of the woods: bring a new children’s book into the Tacoma Art Museum today, get in free.
The Mark was showing the owner Lisa Owen’s flora photos from the GRuB Project, which teaches young people to help economically disadvantaged people to grow their own food.
Sure, the causes had me feeling warm and fuzzy, and had me appreciating the Olympians’ sense of community well-being, but ultimately, I like two things: people watching, and drinkie-poos. I got both, at Arts Walk.
My favorite people watching moment was not the bad comedian being Einstein in some bad “Actor’s Studio†moment. Nor was it the ultra post-modern-punk manorexic dude and his two girlfriends. It had to be the moment after the moment, when the guy with twin pigtails on the top of his head gave a meaningful look to his multiple facial piercing guy friend, and then did a double-take himself, seeing the LDS missionaries milling. The next second, I passed the four missionaries as they spread their message to a group of four, two of whom had ferrets. It was surreal.
Bar-wise, I started my evening with Cielo Blu, with a fabulous Rhubarb-Raz-tini (a martini with rhubarb and raspberry puree and raspberry vodka.) I ended my Oly evening at Ben Moore’s, because I overheard a walker-viewer say to her friend, “You HAVE to go there!†I had a Harbor Lights-worthy Gin and tonic, and headed home.
After chatting with Ms. Diva Natasha (in the best of leather rOWr! Ways,) I decided to stop by Doyle's Public House’s Octoberfest shebang, which was complete with a pirate, a wench, and an Irish band in a tent. You could buy booze in Doyle's, or in the tent, but you could not mingle from one end to the next. Blame Washington State law, apparently. I left what I called “arrrrrgctoberfest†and headed home only to be tempted in by Enoteca, a place I had not yet been, but that had ingratiated itself on my consciousness. Met a way cool lady and her man, and chatted with the Mistress and Maiden of Cheese. Personally, I think the Mistress of Cheese thing doesn’t fit her. She’s way more than cheesey. But dang, does that wine and cheese make me happy! Add it to sight, sounds, and art â€" and I was a deep-sleepin’ chica last night. â€" Jessica Corey-Butler
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