About five years ago galleryHomeland produced a show along the Esplanade called “Scratching the Surface.” I never found most of the work, but Richard Schemmerer intercepted. We decided a drink might be better, eventually finding ourselves seated at clarklewis.
Lost art aside, everything I saw that evening was gorgeous. It was an Aha moment for me, when the inner southeast grabbed my imagination. Perhaps it was because I was a brand new driver. Just getting across the river by myself, (but not on foot, which I’ve done plenty of times), was miraculous. But that view from the Esplanade, framed by our notoriously pink sky, told me why so many come to P-town and think it is beautiful.
Sure, I've dined at Montage back in the early 90s when I would visit from NYC. But I was a New Yorker then, used to groovy industrial diners like Florent (which I miss like crazy). Now I have lived in Portland longer than I did New York and I’ve been thinking for some time how delicious a space, any kind of space, in the inner southeast would be. After all, I’ve got a Monday Night bar and a radio show in these parts.
It's the raucous activity I find most encouraging, all those workers of the world who really don't have much to do with art. In a town with so many not working - sorry to have to observe this! – the industry and noise of the area is like a balm.
The Godfather Ben Pink (of Launchpad) waved his wand and connected me to the Right People, who shall remain nameless. The colors are extremes of hot and cold, steel and wood. My new studio is very close to the big air with a big view, yet enclosed, kind of hidden. I go up and down rather steep stairs, which is perfect, as the significant repeat dream of my entire lifetime, from early childhood on, features a navigation of extreme stairs. It’s what must be.