While Broadway, the hub of theatrical experiences in Tacoma, can be a great place to catch a show — or even buy tickets as a great gift idea — there’s more here than just theaters. Shopping in the area is diverse and fun with long-standing and hidden treasures awaiting shoppers. Check out my story here. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Gift shops are traditionally those places where you can find that sweet little trinket for Aunt Tilly, the place where you can find that floral thank-you card set or that perfect Chintz teacup that you just know will make her gush with joy.
Three South Sound gift shops have those sweet trinket items and much more. Drees in Olympia, Watermark in downtown Tacoma, and Cake in University Place all present any number of exquisite items for your dear auntie, but they also have things to make even the youngest, hippest recipients squeal.
Drees offers Olympia’s shoppers of distinction a wide range of items, from large custom furniture pieces to the daintiest of triple milled soaps in dog shapes. Among other bath and body items at Drees are L’Occitane brand soaps and creams. The 20 percent shea butter hand cream is probably my favorite item when the winter weather makes my hands rough. Drees also carries personal items such as scarves and purses, household goods for the well-stocked kitchen, and even children’s items, from books to pewter first-lock holders to Steiff stuffed animals.
Quality paper goods such as Crane & Co card sets are also available as well as a wide selection of handmade, one of a kind cards. One favorite of mine, the hand water-colored avocado card with certificate of authenticity, sat beside a set of cards that looked like ’50s-era wallpapers. These are the sorts of things I love to give — and get — when the world seems to consist of e-mails, junk mail, and bills.
For this same reason, make a shopping stop at Tacoma’s Watermark. A personal favorite of mine is the custom stationery selection. Here you can get invitations, announcements, and even customized writing paper like your Aunt Tilly used to send you letters on — until she started e-mailing you, that is.
Resumé kits, etiquette books, calendars, planners, notebooks, journals, and other useful paper items sit in the displays at Watermark as well as sparkling handmade jewelry, bath and body items, and serving and décor items for entertaining.
An intriguing line that melds two of my favorite things — cooking and scents — is the Cucina line, featuring scents such as coriander and olive tree, ginger and Sicilian lemon, and basil and tomato. With this line, cooks can get a more pleasant-smelling space, softer hands, and cleaner dishes without the war of the scents that can happen when a garlic pesto meets up against a gardenia candle.
Fun stuff for those who don’t like to cook — and enjoy laughing about it — can be found at Watermark too. Its selection of Anne Taintor products is about the largest (and funniest) that I’ve seen in the South Sound.
Laughter is also emphasized in University Place at Cake with an eclectic selection of humorous gift books and other whimsical printed items such as wallets and cards. But Cake also offers up serious shopping with its Anthropologie-like boutique styling and products ranging from design and décor items for the home, high-quality body products, and seriously hip clothing. Antique furniture mixes with up-to-the-minute clothing lines such as Joe’s Jeans and Seven for all Mankind, just as sculptured vases seen last week in Elle Décor sit next to knobs and hardware that could have been at home on Aunt Tilly’s mahogany sideboard.
The only problem I had while doing my gift shopping at these three shops was that I didn’t want to give items — I wanted to keep them.
Who’s the wise guy that said it’s better to give than receive, anyway? — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Dree’s 524 Washington St. S.E., Olympia, 360.357.7177]
[Watermark Gifts 1115 A St., Tacoma, 253.383.2041]
[Cake 3838 Bridgeport Way W., University Place, 253.564.2253]
“Vibrant.” “Livable.” “Vital.” “Viable.”
Not bad, in terms of adjectives used to describe a city where once, the best that could hope for was a local paper deeming it “gritty.”
But now, this little, vibrant city of ours that could is being featured in the Smithsonian magazine as one of five places you should visit — to which we reply, Pah! We live here, we know the secret already!
And why is our fine city going all Cinderella on the world?
One word: The Arts.
And at today’s ArtsFund “A Celebration of the Arts” at the Greater Tacoma Convention and Trade Center, that point was driven home with a hammer — with a special, gilded hammer.
Thing is, to create a vital, vibrant arts scene that creates commerce and excitement and, in turn, a vital, vibrant, livable city, you need cash.
And the ArtsFund is all about getting and then distributing that cash to create institutions of the Arts that live and breathe; today was all about celebrating the people who help to make it happen.
Awards were presented for Outstanding Achievement in the Arts, which celebrated the work of Drs. Paul-Elliott and Loma L. Cobbs with the Tacoma Youth Symphony Association and alluded to the importance of education that would be part of the keynote address, and Outstanding Foundation Leadership in the Arts, celebrating the work of the Ben B. Cheney Foundation.
Through the course of the luncheon, ArtsFund members and business supporters of ArtsFund spoke eloquently about the role of the arts in the community, and, to my mind, drove home the impressive accomplishments that have gone on, quite un-noticed, through the efforts of companies like Columbia Bank, Riddell Williams, Weyerhauser, the Boeing Company, Comcast, and even Intel Corporation, who, according to Community Relations Manager Rick Meeder, typically will support science and technology funds. But Intel’s revenge will be on stage soon, as they help to sponsor the Mad Science “Newton’s Revenge” production coming soon to Tacoma.
Even still, keynote speaker Dr. Terry Bergeson emphasized the importance of the arts and brought the point back to a need for them, and in her opening comments addressed the Drs. Cobbs, speaking warmly about “the wonderful thing, the love between you and the love for what you do.”
Bergeson continued to tell about coming into Tacoma in 1968, to work at Gault Middle School, calling it a “different city than what it was,” adding that it’s changed, in may ways, “because of the attraction of the arts.”
She pointed to the exemplary WASL scores of the Tacoma School of the Arts (top WASL scores in the county), and used examples of how the arts — specifically the four disciplines of dance, music, theatre, and visual arts — have impacted many students’ lives for the richer, consequently the arts and arts assessments will be a big part of graduation requirements for all students in Washington State schools. But to grow the programs that will sustain the progression of education to become more arts-encompassing, Bergeson pointed out we need to “find money.”
“Arts education improves academic success,” Bergeson declared.
She closed with the thought that schools should prepare adults that are “powerful, caring, strong, smart, disciplined, and able to soar.”
“Without Arts, that can never fully happen,” she added. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I’m feeling holiday-like. Is it the paraphernalia I’m seeing in all the stores, or the calendar that’s putting the pressure on?
I don’t know which it is, but being that I’ve got this yearly tradition of making my own cards, I guess I need to get a move on.
The beautiful thing of it is, this year I won’t have to do it alone, thanks to my friends at the Tacoma Art Place. I’ll be holding a class on Sunday, Dec. 2, 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., and I’ll share some ideas and techniques from cards I’ve made in the past, and a boatload of supplies and refreshments. All I want from you, dear friends, is to show up with $10 and any supplies you might have to share (though the latter is not necessary.)
And because I’m feeling that holiday spirit welling, I’ll donate any profits from the event right back to Tacoma Art Place.
Can’t wait to see you there! — Jessica Corey-Butler
Call it a sign of old age, a bad week, or effective choreography: tears bounded into my eyes when I saw “Class” at the MOVE! Performance last night at the Tacoma School of the Arts. There was the wee little kid, soloing without self-consciousness, at the end of Josh Rizeberg’s spoken word piece that representatives from the Adult, Young Adult, and Ballet I classes also danced to. I felt like Sienna Williams, aged 5, represented the completion of the circle that the legacy of MLKBallet demonstrated: bringing freedom of physical expression to all those who are dedicated. That dedication spans age, physicality, race and gender, but doesn’t have to be limited by income level.
And the MOVE! shows work as double entities: they entertain, and they sustain. And there's two more shows today — 2 and 7 p.m.
“We’ve gotten it down to where, through producing shows, we can sustain ourselves,” explains Director Alexa Folsom-Brown to me last week, proud of the fact that “our income is directly related to how hard we’re working and creating.”
She says, speaking for all at MLKBallet, “I want to work for it, I don’t want to be dependent on anyone.”
Even still, thorough collaborations and partnerships, the fledgling ballet company can put on shows like last night's, which brought Can Can Castaways and North West Dance Syndrome down from Seattle, and a screen projected Joel Myers — whose initial Joel Show introduced me to the SOTA Theatre and the potential dynamism of dance, back two winters ago, sowing the seeds of the infant MLKBallet — not to mention the talents of Rizeberg, The School of the Arts dancers, MLKBallet dancers, and a sneak peek at the Metro Parks’ "Wizard of Oz," due to hit the stage in January.
High points for me, the dynamism of Tacoma boy turned Seattle success Ben Meersman exploding onstage in leaping spins, echoed by Alaisha Jefferson’s dynamic presence as the Witch in the "Wizard of Oz" teaser. Interestingly, both dancers discovered dance in their teens; the power and magnetism they both exude onstage bodes well for both futures.
Another amazing dancer was thought to have begun in her later teens, only she was younger than her teacher initially thought. Vorece Miller, the red-skirted dancer in the Sam Cooke piece “Stories: Soul, Cry, and Well” danced with an assured maturity that MLKBallet Artistic Director Kate Monthy thought was appropriate for 15 or 16 year olds, and as a teacher she pushed accordingly; only recently Monthy discovered her pupil was merely 13-years-old. “She pulled it off,” Monthy said with a proud grin.
I found the whole evening to be, as Folsom-Brown suggested in our earlier interview, “good quality movement for under $20,” and I found it to be much more: I learned about the possibility of entertainment for future road trips to Seattle at the Can Can, as well as a slightly more outre’ endeavor called the Little Red Studio from friends Roland and Cherie. And most importantly, I felt the collaborative spirit that Tacoma Arts can evolve into.
“Everything is going in a forward direction,” Folsom-Brown asserts as we talked about MLKBallet. But I saw, tonight at MOVE!, more than forward: as the Northwest Dance Syndrome worked their “Crosswalks” early in the evening, I saw what I love now about dance: that forward contains many more directions than just straight ahead in the traditional fashion, and I can’t wait to explore the future — and see how it develops — as MLKBallet grows, and MOVE! Grows with it. — Jessica Corey-Butler
PERFORMANCE
MOVE!
Josh Rizeberg and producer Xaviant are about to answer a lot of prayers. The native poet and beatsmith have alchemically distilled something really special. It’s not hip-hop. It’s not spoken word. Don’t call it fusion, please. The duo’s first collaboration, dubbed “Spoken Worlds,” features tight, grimy euro-bangers by Tacoma-born, Cuba-raised, Miami-forged Xaviant, and silky, smart, multi-rhythmic flows from Rizeberg. The full-length album evolves too much to fit into any pop-culture box, so I’ll call it what it is. It’s plain ill. You can catch him performing a commissioned work for the MLK Ballet’s MOVE series tonight and Saturday. — Paul Schrag
[Tacoma School of the Arts, 7 p.m., $14, 118 Commerce St., Tacoma, 253.906.2190]
MORE STAGE: On local stages today.
CLASSICAL
Northwest Sinfonietta
Beethoven achieved fame through his musical virtuosity and then was dealt another cruel blow as he slowly lost his hearing.
By the time Ludwig van Beethoven wrote the piece the Northwest Sinfonietta, with 75 special choral guests and pianist Jairo Geronymo, will play tonight at the Rialto Theatre in Tacoma, he was already half deaf.
Released from the standard conventions Beethoven was already pushing, the composer created a piece that blended concerto, symphony, cantata, and solo; it’s suggested that the piece is a “rehearsal for Beethoven’s 9th (think “Ode to Joy” as you listen to themes.) In its inaugural concert, it was part of a four-hour epic that musicians only had one day — in an unheated theatre in Vienna, in the winter — to prepare for. Beethoven was conductor as well as pianist for that event, with his rock star-sized ego playing considerably in the event he’d funded. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Rialto Theater, 7:30 p.m., $12-$50, 310 S. Ninth, Tacoma, www.nwsinfonietta.com]
MUSIC/ART SERIES
The Round
The new music/art series, The Round, debuts tonight. It’s three acoustic singer/songwriters sitting on stage together taking turns telling stories and singing songs. Occasionally they will chime in to accompany each other. All the while, live painters visualize their shared muse on canvases nearby. After each musician has performed a song, a poet will recite a piece of spoken word or poetry, and then the cycle begins again with more music. The audience sits in rapt attention while enjoying free appetizers.
Two Seattle singer/songwriters, Robert Deeble and Carrie Biell, Seattle slam poet Matt Gano and Seattle painter Scott Erickson were invited to perform along with Tacoma singer/songwriter Aaron Spiro, Tacoma poet Daniel Blue and young Tacoma painter Chloe Scheffe, a Tacoma School of the Arts student.
[Club SOTA, Saturday, Nov. 17, 8 p.m., all ages, $5-$8, 1117 Broadway, Tacoma]
MORE MUSIC: In the clubs tonight.
Tank the wonder-Springer was looking scruffy. More than that, he was dragging in bucket loads of mud on the fur of his paws, and his nails, which had already removed most of the Swedish Finish on our hardwoods, were beginning to gouge the concrete of the sidewalks.
It was time for a grooming.
On Friday, I called Soulful Tails to make a Saturday appointment, only to hear, “the mailbox is full.”
Ditto Saturday; Sunday I didn’t try, and then Monday and Tuesday were hairy in terms of life juggling. So then on Wednesday, I tried once again to make Tank an appointment to be beautiful, only to get “The number you have reached has been disconnected. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please try the number again.”
I did, and I got the same damn message.
Tank’s hair and nails weren’t getting any shorter, so I brought him to Tacoma’s Best Pet Grooming, where I found a friendly staff that put me and Tank immediately at ease, and where Tank found a female Springer Spaniel with her tail-stub waving.
He was stoked.
I was later stoked with his fabulous new ‘do (he got to keep the Mohawk!) and his short-haired paws. Sounds like Soulful Tails closed unexpectedly, though I can’t call to reach anyone to confirm anything.
As a treat for being handsome, Tank received a bully stick and a fab new collar next door at Lucky Dog Outfitters—and we brought Bill home the same items for being a patient and naturally short-haired brother.
[Tacoma's Best Pet Grooming, 3411 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.756.7385]
[Lucky Dog Outfitters, 3411 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.761.4486]
I tried to be inconspicuous as I listened to the Northwest Sinfonietta last night from my privileged perch on the Rialto Theater stage with the players.
I watched as the maestro coaxed nuanced changes out of the players who’d been traumatized in the previous rehearsal the day before, when the tempo of the piece was revealed.
Sinfonietta Executive Director Neil Birnbaum grinned an impish grin as he asked how many shots of espresso the conductor had as we chatted before the rehearsal.
But despite the frenetic tempo, which the orchestra seems to effortlessly keep, the Northwest Sinfonietta’s conductor Christophe Chagnard helped his musicians create mystery in one segment; levity, in another; and drama, in yet another.
Chagnard helped buff out rough spots with a sense of humor and compassion, suggesting ways a bassoonist can make it through and arduous series of insanely fast notes, and even apologizing for a “suicidal” transition, humming in that conducto-hum familiar to musicians as he explains how to work through the patch that is the musical equivalent of blinding, wet roads becoming torturous switchbacks.
As he sipped his latte before the rehearsal, Chagnard explained that he’d researched Beethoven, and felt as though he understood the man who’d been so influential in pushing the future of classical music.
Check out my preview of the Sinfonietta's weekend shows tomorrow in the Weekly Volcano. — Jessica Corey-Butler
ROCK
Toga Party
While the origins of the toga party aren’t necessarily clear, one thing is certain. The toga party is an American institution. Whether “Animal House” introduced you to the idea of donning a bed sheet Greek style and drinking until you fall down, or it was Tom Wolfe — if you’ve never been to a toga party, you’re missing out on part of life.
McCabe’s in Tacoma realizes this. Tonight, Glass Ceiling Music will present a Toga Party as part of its Nothing But Rock series, featuring Big Fat Alice, Society Says, and Alpha Nation. In addition to the metal riffage, a toga contest will make things interesting, offering prizes for “Best Toga,” “Worst Toga,” and crowd favorite “Sexiest Toga.”
Mmmm. Sexiest Toga.
It’ll cost you five bucks at the door if you come dressed in a toga and ten bucks if you don’t. Sounds to me like you’ve got all the inspiration you need.
If you’re looking for a little help preparing your toga (and believe me, there’s more to it than simply finding a bed sheet), check out www.howtomakeatoga.info. Don’t ask me how I know this. I just do. — Matt Driscoll
[McCabe’s American Music Café, Thursday, Nov. 8, 8 p.m., $10, $5 with toga, 2811 Pacific Ave., Tacoma, 253.272.5403]
ROOTS ROCK
Kris Orlowski
Tonight, Kris Orlowski will play Jazzbones in Tacoma. Being unfamiliar with Orlowski’s act, I found my way to krisorlowski.com and, naturally, his bio.
“By deftly combining the intensity of a full band with engaging pop-driven melodies, Kris Orlowski has created a sound that is stirring, distinctive, and quintessentially northwestern. Flanked by bassist Jason Stiles and drummer Tim Rummerfield, the band delivers a pulsing, edgy roots-rock sound with strokes of Alternative and Americana sway that tease the ballads and tragedies of tomorrow.”
If someone can tell me what that means, I’ll buy them a drink. If someone can tell me how Orlowski can “tease the ballads and tragedies of tomorrow” I’ll buy them two.— Matt Driscoll
[Jazzbones, with Listen & The Reaching, Thursday, Nov. 8, 7 p.m., all ages, $5, 2803 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.396.9169]
MORE MUSIC: In the clubs tonight.
THE ARTS
“An Evening with Madame F”
Claudia Stevens, visiting scholar in music at the College of William and Mary, who has performed the piece as the centerpiece of Holocaust and Kristallnacht observances in more than 100 communities across the country, will perform her original work “An Evening with Madame F.” The event is scheduled to commemorate Kristallnacht, a night of violence and destruction that marked the tipping point in the violence against Jews in Germany prior to World War II, which culminated in the atrocities of concentration camps.
“An Evening with Madame F” combines Stevens’ vocal, instrumental, writing, and acting skills; the one-woman piece is a reflection through the eyes of a conflicted Holocaust survivor who was, herself, an entertainer. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Kilworth Memorial Chapel, Thursday, Nov. 8, 7:30 p.m., free, University of Puget Sound, 1500 N. Warner, Tacoma, 253.879.3419]
MORE ARTS: What on local stages.
Driving up to the Tacoma Art Museum brought a beautiful sight to my eyes: people, all around Pacific Avenue, throngs of them, crossing to the TAM to take part in the Dia de los Muertos community event that’s becoming a seasonal must-do on par with a Christmas viewing of the "Nutcracker."
The wee one wasn’t much interested in the events on stage, though I wanted to stop and listen to traditional music. Instead, she grabbed me by the hand and dragged me up the stairs to the very crowded second level. In one room, treats like Pan Muerto begged to be nibbles, while the altars by many groups invited large groups to view them. My own favorite was the altar tribute to a mother; I became teary as people, invited to jot down the names of mothers they would like remembered, did just that, and added those names to the altar.
I wanted to stop and look at the altars longer, but the kid had an agenda, and it was all about sugar.
We joined the crush in the art room and ran into friends Chiara, Kate, and Asa; we stopped to decorate a sugar skull, inspired by the sparkling, glittering, festive skulls around us, and then wandered the gallery spaces.
It was the kind of fun afternoon I’d have liked to stay longer for, but more death beckoned, French opera style.
Dropping the wee one off at Grandma’s, I headed to the Rialto to see the Tacoma Opera staging of Offenbach’s "Orpheus in the Underworld," and had the time of my life.
I didn’t expect the opera to be the place where I’d laugh so hard tears would stream, or that I’d have random acts of smiling happening faster than I could count.
Sure, the music was delightful, and impressive given that nearly half of the characters were making their Tacoma Opera debut. More, it was the costuming that gave me the giggles, with Pluto (an impressive Jared Rogers, coiffed similarly to Disney’s version of Pluto in Hercules,) and his mini-dress stealing the show, largely due to the red Converse high tops he wore. Mercury’s impressively silver Cons were equally scene-stealing, but I think the real gut buster and end of all pretense of operatic decorum for me was the transformation of Jupiter (Barry Johnson) into a fly; black tights and black ballet slippers were effective enough, given Johnson’s more operatic than athletic physique, but when you added the tight fitting black cap and glittery eyes that looked like the bra head-dresses in Weird Science, it made for a delightfully funny appearance. Enhanced by the buzz-buzz song performed with Eurydice (Holly Boaz), the whole scene was the inspiration for much laughter all around the theater.
I got the wee one and headed home with a good feeling, the tired but happy equivalent to a belly full of good food.
Mmmm, Tacoma: you make the topic of death fun! — Jessica Corey-Butler
Friday night I managed to extricate myself from a wounded mate (who’d had recent shoulder surgery, which seems to be an epidemic these days — everyone’s having it, just had it, or getting over it, it seems) I sat in at the AMOCAT awards and saw the glitterati of Tacoma arts society, including the Victory Music folk, beautiful Beautiful Angle dudes, and huge Swarner contingent (represent!) as well as the regular faces you know and love, like Traci Kelley greeting at the gate, Amy McBride trying (in vain) to “blend” and the Avilas and Zmoleks looking hipster cool.
It was gratifying to me, to see such a politically well-supported arts community kicking off such a successful campaign (Art at Work month) with the backing of faces I recognized, even coming from such far reaches as Seattle.
Now that’s impressive.
On my way home after an urgent message from the pained dude, I saw the last of the Day of the Dead procession on Sixth Avenue — I Starskey and Hutch-parked into a not quite legal space, and made my way up to the Masa deck, open and fairly full — to say hey to friends Lia Craven, Di Morgan-Graves, Claudia Riedener, Dave Lisieki holding one of the oddest violin things I’ve ever seen, and numerous other friends whose names I know and can never remember.
Blasted 38.5 year old brains.
Sounds like the procession was a big success, with new faces showing up — and even a Vashon Island contingent! – I loved seeing the completed mermaid Morgan-Graves was working on at the papier mache workshop, as well as a fabulous boat—complete with lantern and dead fisherman — and Riedener’s fabulously bright homage to the salmon.
Fun times, but I had to dash, as a man in pain needed my help with our daughter.
The man in pain, apparently drugged on Percocet, and sleeping kid had no more need for me by the time I arrived, though I had much need for sleep — the next day would be long.
We started off with swimming lessons for wee one at the Y, after which we dashed off to the new Tacoma Art Place to drop off some arts and crafts items I’d put together, which I’d been hording for years, promising to use at some point.
That point hadn’t come yet, so I decided it’d be much nicer for these items to add to the cooperative energy in the Tacoma Art Place, where the kid and I saw a great crowd milling, locals and arts crowd young and old mixing with big smiles as they created cool quilted postcards and even — thank you Ms Darling! — a tooth fairy pouch for the tooth the wee one lost as we walked into the action. Jaime Chase taught some knitting, Theresa Owens worked some beads that rocked the kid’s world, and a very well-attended acrylic painting class all worked to focus some attention, though the space itself was so filled with vitality and action it nearly made my head spin in a giddy joy.
Linda Danforth was on-hand, beaming, to see the fruits of her idea, and the cooperative efforts of many hard workers and donors, come to fruition, and it was just a great way to spend an afternoon, soaking in the vibrance that creativity can bring to a community.
As there’s no rest for the weary (or is that wicked?) the kid and I had places to go and things to do — the next stop was the Bead Factory to make her a special bracelet that we’d been promising for weeks; after that, it was home again, eat quickly, and off to an artsy fun party Jennevieve Sclemmer and Trevor Redfern were hosting.
Fun times, wrapped up in fabulous food and a kitchsy theme (50 years in space!) were the context in which I met up again with Seattle artist Barbara, and met new Seattle artist friend Antoinette, while Abby played hide-the-stars with lovely lovely guests and two super cool astronauts with the last name Lisieki.
The wee one started to fade — I have to say, after such a long day, me too — so we were home again, home again.
Today’s fun and games include the Dia de los Muertos event at the TAM, as well as a trip to the Opera. The kid will go to the former, but not the latter with me, and you know I’ll be here to tell about it.
Good thing there’s that extra hour today! — Jessica Corey Butler
Celebrating Day of the Dead in grand community style, the Tacoma Art Museum caps a month of events with a free community celebration today from noon to 5 p.m. at the Museum.
Held in conjunction with Centro Latino, the festival celebrates Dia de los Muertos with traditional music and dance, food, art activities, sugar skull decoration, and displays of art that include a traditional Tapete, or sand painting, and community altars honoring passed loved ones, as well as student artwork demonstrations.
This family friendly event brings together cultural iconography with activities that bring to light how a grim subject can be celebrated — and enjoyed — by all ages, inviting conversation about loss, remembrance, and the rich fabric of diversity. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Tacoma Art Museum, Sunday, Nov. 4, noon to 5 p.m., free, 1701 Pacific Ave., Tacoma, 253.272.4258]
Yesterday my 5 and a half year old daughter told me she’d had the best Halloween, ever.
So far in her not-quite-6 years, the kid has been a Disney Princess, a Barbie Princess, a random fairy princess, and a witch.
This year, dad hoped the trek to the Halloween Superstore would elevate her in the Halloween echelon, potentially moving her to ghoul or evil sorcerer.
Not so.
Kid saw “Starlet” costume, and the music for “Dream Weaver” started; love lit her eyes, and she was to be The Starlet.
Never mind, warm clothes, thermal underwear, coat: no, starlets shiver, wearing goose bumps with pride as they demand their chauffeurs (moms) to take them to the next neighborhood.
And so my 2007 Halloween was dictated.
Which was just as well, really, because I was daunted by the massive crowds at the Proctor Treats crowd as we drove past. It looked like a crazy good time, with adults getting into it as much as the kids, but we had other plans, and they included much use of the words “trick or treat!”
The early portion of our evening found us stymied by a lack of houses participating in the fun and games, though it was early. I assumed most people were still working, or shellacking their own starlets’ hair with massive quantities of extra super hold hairspray.
Finally, we hit on the mother lode home off of North 21st and Bennett; there, we found a super spooky horror scene and favorite friends Chaundra and Adam along with Gretchen.
The kid swore she wasn’t scared, but I saw the look in her eyes.
Winding our way back home, stopping to trick or treat in patches of homes that looked holiday festive, I hit upon a realizations: the old-school version of trick or treat seems to be dying out in favor of the hordes lining up at places they know the goods are easy — places like shopping districts and huge new housing developments seemed to have the biggest hordes, while many of the houses we visited had full bowl of candy even after 7 p.m.
The households where the Halloween Spirit oozed out of the doors and windows were also filled with people who were really glad to see us, and it made me kind of sad.
Probably, the Wednesday thing mucked with the mojo of the trick or treaters, I’m thinking optimistically. I’m hoping next year to see more families out and about on the streets—and less of the un-costumed pre-teens looking for free handouts. — Jessica Corey-Butler
TDriving the wee one to school we drove by Indochine at 4612 N. Pearl St., as we do every day, and I saw the Grand Opening banner.
My heart sang.
Driving home from school brilliance struck, and I asked the significant one if we could give the new restaurant a try.
Opening night at any establishment can be a bit rough, and we had a few of our own little issues — a wobbly table, forgotten tea order, slow check — but the food more than made up for any glitches encountered in the evening, and the warm reception we received from co-owner Hong Ngove made me feel as warm and cozy as the intimate interior.
I noted her congeniality extended to more than a few diners, who seemed to make a special trek out to the opening to support the Ngove and Sean Yean in their newest business venture, and received broad smiles and hugs as they were greeted.
As for our food, satays made up our dinner order; my curried chicken satay was divinity on a stick, with the peanut sauce, coconutty-licious curry coating the perfectly cooked white meat, and petite side dish of sweet and savory cucumber and pepper melding together in my mouth in the happiest of manners. Significant one assured me his satay—chicken, too; I’m not sure but I think it was lemongrass — was good, but tried to stab me with a skewer when I went to test a bite — while the wee one was eating up spoonfuls of jasmine rice even after she claimed “full.”
Crisp-fried vegetarian spring rolls were served with a sweet and spicy sauce that made me want to drink it by the gallon, and the whole evening seemed reasonably priced at under $35.
The best part of the evening was driving away—though we could have walked—and seeing a building full of light, with a full parking lot.
Welcome to the neighborhood, Indochine on Pearl. — Jessica Corey-Butler
It seems somehow fitting that the guy who posed the idea for Tacoma’s Dia de los Muertos festival originally came up with the idea of a community-building event by melding together memories of a similar festival in the Phinney Ridge area of Ballard and inspiration from the grass-roots efforts of Lynn Di Nino’s Monkey Parties.
Morgan Alexander was raised in Tacoma and moved on to Seattle lured by the University of Washington.
“I had an arts degree, where I was more interested in creative solutions to problems,” he explains.
“Before I moved back down here, I was involved with the Fremont Arts Council.” He adds, “It was so inspiring to see what they created,” elaborating, “I like that kind of attitude and spirit, the do it yourself attitude.” He considers it to be “building a community by building these neighborhood events.”
Coming back down to his hometown, Alexander decided to create a difference, incubating ideas including Historic Tacoma, TacomaWorks, and Dia de los Muertos.
As with Historic Tacoma, momentum built quickly with the Dia de los Muertos event,
“It was started out as a community building project, and so far it looks like the experiment is working.”
“Basically, I was looking for a signature event, when I had the idea of creating a community-building event. I originally thought of doing it on the Eastside, but then I approached the Sixth Avenue Business District.” He acknowledges that the organizational leadership has helped the event become successful.
Additionally, the community has stepped up to help put on the workshops.
Originally, Alexander considered all the different facets of Dia de los Muertos for the “signature event” that would help to fill a community that seemed to be lacking in events. Recalling the success of the Phinney Ridge procession, he hit on that as the idea.
“The goal from the beginning was to take over the neighborhood, not really close down the streets,” Alexander reflects. “I want there to be more community involvement events.”
He adds, “My inspiration was Lynn Di Nino doing her 100th Monkey parties.” The grassroots event “illustrates the hunger for community. The original goal was get to the 100th Monkey; now it’s a success. I would like to see a dozen or so similar groups. It just takes that one monkey to start it.”
For his part, the monkey who started Dia de los Muertos is working on other projects as well. “I’m always thinking of projects,” Alexander chuckles.
A few initiatives close to his heart recently: helping the proposed streetcar idea build momentum and expanding neighborhood grants programs, as well as halting the Sound Transit Pacific Avenue crossing.
Now he just wants to recruit many more civically engaged community activists to help wake up the neighborhoods of Tacoma, to create vibrant events Alexander says will “show off, hey this neighborhood is alive.”
Friday night, beginning at 7 p.m. at Masa, Sixth Avenue will show off, “hey, we’re alive” in the spirit of honoring death.
Sounds cool to me! — Jessica Corey-Butler
DAY OF THE DEAD: Local happenings.
So you missed your chance to dress up over the weekend, or maybe you’re one of those purists who likes waiting ‘til the day of to get into the scary day spirit.
Where are you heading on Wednesday?
My own picks start with Halloween Scary Movie Night at Tempest. The costume is optional, but the goosebumps guaranteed.
Last year’s Halloween party was off the hook at the Swiss, and this year promises more of the same at Ocean Grooves Party, a Halloween Costume Party that, if it holds true to last year, will bring out the sexy funny alter egos of your fellow Tacoma dwellers, all looking to booty shake.
Jazzbones has my number with their Hallo Queen tribute to Freddie Mercury Halloween Bash. Because I live to wear butterfly-collared spandex studded with sequins while listening to classics like “Bicycle” “Fat Bottomed Girls” and “Killer Queen,” this might be my own personal heaven.
Then again, can it get any better than slugging down the $1 Pabst Blue Ribbon while digging the sausage party and costume contest at Hell’s Kitchen’s “Halloweenie!” while listening to SOK & the Faggots, The Outfit, and Bumma Stoge?
Possibly, the only better option I can come up with has to be Masa’s '80s-themed party, with prizes for the best Madonna “Material Girl” and Best Hair Band Lead Singer; with DJ Broam spinning the '80s tunes, I’m thinking I could truly feel in my element here.
My only regret is that Halloween only comes around once a year! — Jessica Corey-Butler
MORE HALLOWEEN PARTIES: Check it here.
Despite ominous skies, we thought a trip to a corn maze and pumpkin farm we hadn’t yet visited would be fun. So the wee one, significant one, and significant mom and I all piled into the SUV and went over the river (but not through the woods) to Rutledge Farms.
Possibly the first piece of evidence to my directional abilities was my misreading of the map we had; we found ourselves nearer our standard Christmas tree farm than any corn maze.
Back on track, we arrived at Rutledge Farm. I chose to attempt the maze despite my directional impairment, though the significant side of the family — all three of them — opted out of the fun, instead choosing to hunt the perfect pumpkin.
I should have brought pebbles, or breadcrumbs, or a guide: I found myself bewildered in the first four minutes, and deciding to get back to the entrance and concede defeat.
But to get to the entrance, I’d have to find it. I found, instead, a bridge, which showed me I was closer to the back of the maze than the front. A map I found confirmed that I was, indeed, the furthest distance between the entries.
I heard voices, I saw no bodies. The skies grew more ominous, and I started freaking out.
Running, not heeding logic (because, after all, “logic” was what got me to the point of no return to begin) I finally got to the exit, and decided that –really—I am not a maze person.
Finally meeting up with the fam at the pumpkin patch, I found more fun slogging through deep puddles with the kid (which was, it turned out, her favorite activity of the day) just as the skies finally opened up.
Still, a fun, autumnal day. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The Tacoma Art Museum kicks off its Dia de los Muertos celebration Saturday, Oct. 20, when a tapete, or sand carpet, will be installed in TAM’s lobby beginning at 10 a.m. TAM’s celebration ends Sunday, Nov. 4 with a free Dia de los Muertos community festival beginning at noon.
Dia de los Muertos? Well pull up a skull and read on.
“In Mexico, el Dia de los Muertos is a private family event,” explains Cynthia Duncan, associate professor of Hispanic Studies at the University of Washington-Tacoma.
She describes how, typically, there is a mass for the dead and then a visit to the church graveyard. The procession following the observance might evolve into a community party, but Duncan says, “It’s more of a religious event.”
She warns that community events such as the Sixth Avenue procession held Nov. 2 at 7 p.m., which she considers unauthentic, may be leading Anglos to misunderstand the traditional cultural forms in place for thousands of years.
“Americans are attracted as an artistic concept, but I really don’t know how much they really understand,” she says.
She describes a community festival in Chicago’s Museum Of Mexican Culture & History, not unlike the Dia de los Muertos event held in the Tacoma Art Museum as well as the one presented by the Latin Student Organization at the University of Washington, Tacoma, where folk art and traditions are presented to the public to promote understanding.
“It’s not completely authentic,” she reiterated. But the key difference Duncan points to is that the festival at the Museum of Mexican Culture & History was presented by Mexicans.
She says there’s nothing wrong with community festivals that inform the public about traditions, but she says she has mixed feelings.
“I think it’s really in a period of transition,” she says.
“El dia de los Muertos really belongs to Mexico,” explains Duncan. “It goes back to pre-Columbian times.” She continues, explaining how as Catholicism spread through Mexico pre-Hispanic belief was blended with Catholicism and how “Dia de los Santos,” as celebrated by other Catholics, became “Dia de los Muertos.”
“(It was) a symbolic way of remembering, respecting, acknowledging they’re still a part of us,” Duncan says.
She describes altars and the symbolism of the items placed on them. A cigarette and ashtray are items she places on her alter for her mother, who liked to smoke. Her father gets apples. The marigold, the flower of the dead, the sugar skulls, bread with bones — all are traditional Aztec elements, not Spanish, she says.
For the Aztecs, the dead weren’t in a completely separate and different place than the living. Duncan explains the concept as “just because I don’t see them doesn’t mean their spirits aren’t with us.”
When Duncan was faculty advisor for the University of Washington, Tacoma’s Latin Student Organization, the group put out Tacoma’s first Dia de los Muertos public altar display at the university.
“A lot of people at the university didn’t know what el Dia was. They were skeptical,” Duncan says.
But she recalls that the event offered those involved a chance to learn a cultural tradition, and there was another benefit: “It was really healing for people who had lost husbands, fathers … . Dia is a chance to talk about the person that you lost and love.”
But she allows that even in Mexico the lure of Halloween may be competing with the pure Mexican tradition of Dia de los Muertos.
“In Mexico, it’s becoming difficult to avoid contamination,” she says. For example, supermarkets there sell Halloween items.
Even still, those experiences that are not authentic can foster conversations and education.
Even in her own experience with the Latin Student Organization, Duncan saw friction over the decision to present a Dia de los Muertos event with the mixed group of students with Puerto Rican, Columbian, Peruvian, and Central American backgrounds.
“But in the end, the group thought it was important to educate,” Duncan says. — Jessica Corey Butler
Unless you’ve been living in a cave, you know that Halloween is right around the corner. But then again, if you’ve been living in a cave, every night is fit for batty behavior, and next weekend is no exception!
The Tacoma City Ballet brings you “Hallowed Dances Oct. 26 and 27 at the Pantages Theater. The scenes have scary titles such as “The Dead Summer’s Soul,” “No Bones About It,” and Girls At The Gates.” Nice.
The Weekly Volcano will scare up a story on the performance in next week’s issue. Here are a few shots I snapped last night at their rehearsal. — Jessica Corey Butler
Billed as “a world of flavors,” Babblin’ Babs Bistro doesn’t disappoint.
Chef William Mueller fuses French techniques with a casual flair, crafting exquisite breakfast sandwiches, fresh lunch fare, and dinner specials featuring locally sourced and organic (when possible) products. Items like Lavender lattes make us drool and go back for more, while exotic flavor combinations in his special dishes make us glad we did.
Just thought you’d like to know. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Babblin’ Babs Bistro, 2724 N. Proctor St., Tacoma, 253.761.9099]
I can’t wait for Nov. 1.
Last night I was given a tour inside the newest addition to the Indochine family — Indochine on Pearl.
I was amazed.
The previous restaurant there, Sar’s, was decidedly uninspiring, from an interior standpoint.
Hong Ngove and her husband Sean Yean have changed that around, and then some.
A modern-cool water feature greets you on entry to the intimate space; you’re standing under the eaves of a traditional Thai building at that point. As you walk about three feet further, you can look up to see all the intricate detailing of the architectural feature, or down, to see slate-colored tile with detailed inset patterns. Directly in front, a wall hides the hall to the restrooms, and on that wall, a fireplace cozies up the space made more intimate with a warm, cinnamon-toned paint, contrasted with deep chocolate accents of wood and paint on the exposed ceiling, which in the days of Sar’s, had been a suspended T-Bar acoustical ceiling.
And the ceiling isn’t the only way the couple have modified the feeling of the space: there’s also a side dining area, separated by gorgeous iron work, the eave façade, and opulent fabrics and a step up; from the tile, the surface changes to a warm wood with a tile accent.
The kitchen is also a spacious and clean thing of beauty; Yean and Ng have completely modified that, as well.
Right now, they say they’re awaiting permits for alcohol, and finalizing menu details. They say it’ll be similar to the menu at their Fircrest location.
All I can say is, satay, yay! Bring… it…on! — Jessica Corey-Butler
The building that was previously the unfortunately named Sar’s Oriental Cuisine has been sitting vacant near my house for awhile.
Then improvements were made, paint was slapped on the walls, and rumors began circulating that an Indochine would be moving in.
Shortly after that, a sign went up, confirming that.
Just a few weeks ago, paper was taken off windows, hinting at the beautiful interior inside, as a banner was placed, promising “coming soon, Indochine on Pearl.”
I just spoke to a representative from the University Place location, who will be running the new Thai restaurant, and he confirms that the restaurant is set to open Nov. 1.
But I’ll be getting the interior peek hook-up, soon.
Keep your eyes set right hear for more. — Jessica Corey-Butler
YouTube just got sexier, courtesy of Tacoma’s Samsara Pilates and Pole’s Meli McCourek. You won’t see full frontal, but you will see titillating fun, and some super hot shoes. Then you can sign yourself up for classes and learn the fun, yourself. Contact Samsara Pilates and Pole at 253.370.2452 with all your questions. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Captain Kirk has a son, and his name is Tricky.
No, really.
Tricky’s Pop Culture Emporium is owned and run by Patrick Kirk, whose dad was a captain (get it? Captain Kirk) in the U.S. Army. Yes, Daddy Kirk was a Trekkie, and yes, the family sat together and watched “Star Trek” when it was on television.
It would seem like natural progression, then, that Tricky the Trekkie would dream of a world beyond the elder care he’d been involved with since he was 13 years old. Tricky saw Star Trek: the Experience as a way out of the daily diapering of the elderly. “It was before Depends,” he remembers. “They were cloth diapers.”
Star Trek: the Experience, a sort of Disney World for Trekkies in Las Vegas, lured Kirk with the lofty title wardrobe assistant. What that amounted to was, in his words, “washing Starfleet uniforms and shining Klingon boots.” He recalls how the Klingons’ boots, with internal lifts, lifted further the Klingons’ impressions of themselves.
But all was not well with the Experience, and downsizing brought Captain Kirk’s son a pink slip.
That brought Kirk back to work as a nurse’s aide in a Las Vegas old folks home filled with New York characters “who would not die.” He recalls one guy with a four-pack-a-day — “unfiltered!” he emphasizes — smoking habit who had a particularly nasty attitude at 100 years old. A former barber, the man had many photos on his walls. All featured a cigarette in the right hand and a drink in the left. “He used to cut Regis Philbin’s hair,” Tricky tells me, and I’m certain he’s pulling my chain. “No, I believed him,” he says. “If he was going to lie, he’d say Frank Sinatra or something, not Regis Philbin.”
Good point.
At about this time, Elvis entered Kirk’s life in the form of albums some of the residents had given him. Kirk says of his ambitions, “I moved there (to Vegas) to clean Klingon boots, not to do Elvis impersonations.” But sometimes, the inevitable grabs hold, and Kirk succumbed, moving to Seattle shortly thereafter, where he garnered rave reviews and a first place for his Elvis in a skirt — TransElvistite. A picture in his shop shows him as his alter ego, and he has a great pair of legs to go with his miniskirt.
Now, here in Tacoma, where his brother lives, Kirk’s shop acts as a physical autobiography of his life’s phases and interests — all for sale for surprisingly cheap.
Go there; talk to him. It’s fun. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Tricky’s Pop Culture Emporium, 817 Division Ave. Suite B, Tacoma, 253.272.5288]
I can’t wait to peek inside Tacoma’s swank condominiums during this weekend’s Tour of Urban Living, a self-guided tour set to take place Oct. 13 and 14 from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
In last year’s tour, I remember having a light bulb “Aha!” moment watching the occupants of the top floor of a million-dollar condo project.
Together, the couple entered the elevator with their two Scottish terriers, a carrier with six bottles of wine, and several bags of groceries.
Right then and there, I was sold on condo lifestyle. I could see myself as an empty nester with two lap dogs I’d bestow impossibly clever names upon, bringing up my gourmet fare to prepare and savor in my gourmet kitchen kitted out with Gaggenau and Viking appliances while sipping on an amazing vintage.
Check out the Tour of Urban Living details here. — Jessica Corey-Butler
“It’s my season,” confides Karen Luke Fildes. “When the gray days come, I come alive.”
Despite recent trips around Hawaii and other sunny, color-saturated spots, Luke Fildes speaks about the Northwest sky with reverence, using adjectives reserved for people. She explains how the cloud’s personality will take on whatever the wind is doing to it, as if the cloud were a bit like a passive partner in a relationship.
She talks about the immediate clouds outside Gallery Madera as though they were dancers, or actors, creating drama and tension in a day-long show.
Along with Carlos Taylor-Swanson, proprietor of Gallery Madera, Luke Fildes hopes to “create a movement to warm up moody, Washington days,” utilizing Taylor-Swanson’s space to run palette workshops for artists.
The first Northwest Color Awareness Demonstration workshop, runs Saturday from 11 to 2 p.m. at Gallery Madera, where Luke Fildes currently has work hanging along with artists Rae Belkin, as well as Milo and Christy Mirabelli.
The show, titled “Change,” fits well with the color workshop that Luke Fildes will run, where participants will learn to paint Northwest color.
But Luke Fildes, whose canvasses show unrelenting optimism that verges on the spiritual, says, “It’s not only educational but inspirational.”
In her own artistic world of pursuing nature, she invariably casts a positive light on the darkest situations. She says she’s looking to create a sort of Vespers for people, only not in a church, adding, “It’s not a secret that that’s what it’s all about ... it’s hope.”
More technically, Luke Fildes says, “It’s about color awareness, the temperature of light; becoming aware of the beauty rather than being trapped under the veil.”
The implication is that what you’re looking at as gray and depressing may actually be shades of purple, blue, gold, and silver; her workshop will demystify the actual colors and add some ideas to get participants outside looking up on days when they’d ordinarily closet themselves indoors with a blanket.
In past workshops, Luke Fildes has noted, “It seems to be a comfort to people. Fun, too.”
And along with Taylor-Swanson she’s hoping that Gallery Madera can be ground zero for that inspirational movement toward the appreciation of beauty in new ways.
“He’s doing really great things with this space and the community,” Luke Fildes enthuses about Taylor-Swanson, adding, “It’s just the best space.”
[Gallery Madera, Saturday, Oct. 13, 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., free, 2210 Court A Tacoma, 253.572.1218 www.gallerymadera.com]
My friend sent me an alarmed text message when she went shopping for
jeans for her teenage daughter. Seemed she was struck with a bad case
of sticker shock by the prices she was seeing in the boutique where
they shopped.
I responded apologetically: sorry, I thought you knew boutique equals money.
And then I thought about that statement.
While it’s true, boutiques can get spendy, it’s also true that you get what you pay for.
What I’ve discovered in my exhaustive research in Tacoma’s boutiques is that shopping culture is a lot like restaurant culture.
I've posted my findings on the Volcano Web site. — Jessica Corey Butler
The Northwest Sinfonietta is so sexy.
And I’m not just saying that because I harbor a secret crush on Director/Conductor Christophe Chagnard because he has something about him that reminds me of my brother in law, for whom I’ve also harbored a secret crush — no, the Northwest Sinfonietta is sexy because the material they present represents the emotional flows, waves, and peaks that carry listeners to a sensory place that transcends most other experiences.
It’s the kind of stuff that hat compels toes to tap while mouths grin broadly, that pops goose bumps out of warm skin, that raises hairs on the napes of necks; it’s stuff that squeezes tears out of dry eyes for inexplicable reasons.
Last night the Sinfonietta gifted its audience with its first program of the 2007-2008 season, “Beethoven Revealed Part One.”
By accounts overheard in the lobby at intermission, the house was impressively full though several empty seats might have attested to the difficulties some would-be attendees might have had getting through gas-explosion traffic.
The first piece, Rossini’s L’Italiana in Algeri: Overture, previewed the strengths of the orchestra, with a most impressive use of piano — and not the keyed instrument we’d be seeing later. Effective, beautifully-toned quiet notes built to the multiple crescendos the piece is known for, with piccolo and oboe bringing a bright, light hearted quality to the work.
The evening’s second work, Mozart’s Piano Concerto No.11 in F Major, K.413, featured Byron Schenkman on piano; it was interesting for me to note the instrumentalist began as harpsichordist and fortepianist, because the use of pedals on the grand piano he played for the evening was a marked contrast to the starched and formal tones of the older instruments. Accustomed to hearing the more traditional playing of Mozart, I was at first taken aback by the notes flowing together. Early in the Allegro, I thought I caught a few missed notes, but like a figure skater missing the first quadruple jump and going on to win the gold medal, Schenkman hung on impressively and gave a great performance.
For me, the sensation of the piece wasn’t unlike my surfing experience in Maui, starting off with a bit of unfamiliarity but settling into a sublimely rolling, pleasurable experience.
After intermission, we settled in to hear Beethoven’s Symphony No. 4 in B-flat major, op. 60.
Like about everybody else in the world, I’m familiar with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony death theme, da da da DUMMM — but I have to admit a certain ignorance about many of his other works. So I was highly appreciative of Chagnard’s brief explanation about the piece, “one of the least performed.” Being eclipsed by “two giants, Eroica and the Fifth,” the symphony actually throws out a sort of a classical music inside joke in its first four notes, previewing the first four notes of the Fifth, only in a highly technical reverse (minor and major third intervals are reversed).
Without Chagnard’s observation, I certainly would not have caught that.
What I did catch was a feeling of exquisite tension created with the music; while the Mozart and Rossini were lovely, taking me to rollicking and rolling places, Beethoven challenged me with fluttering notes, sustained notes, alternating sections playing, pizzicato punctuations, all interspersed in unexpected ways.
Glancing around me from my perch on high, I realized I wasn’t the only one being affected: I saw surreptitious eye-wiping, subtle body movements in response the themes, and smiles of enjoyment. The Sinfonietta, as well, seemed swept away by enjoyment, demonstrating an impressive use of restraint which then developed into a mutual build-up that resulted in a finish that combined tumult and pleasure.
Sexy, so sexy.
Most obvious, I saw –and participated in—the standing ovation. The best part of this was the balloons thrown on stage in appreciation by members of the Association of Late Deafened Adult Association. They were listening to the music of the late-deafened composer through the use of brightly colored balloons that transmitted vibrations of the music; I spoke with one woman from the group who had only recently received cochlear implants after 25 years of deafness. Her eyes welled and her smile was broad as she tried to express the pleasure she felt. Her husband suggested they would return to the whole Beethoven series, suggesting he wouldn’t be able to keep her away.
Tension, release, balloons, euphoria.
Such a great, sexy night. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Classical music is not like spinach. Sure, your mom might have insinuated that cultivating a taste for both was good for you, but the goal of Neil Birnbaum, new executive director for the Northwest Sinfonietta, is to get you to see that, unlike the somewhat slimy green stuff that left a funny feeling on your teeth, the musical dish the Sinfonietta serves up is spicy, peppy fun.
“Some of (music director and composer) Christophe’s tempos are extremely fast, like I just gave him a triple espresso.”
Additionally, says Birnbaum, “Tthere’s a great spirit amongst our musicians … they’re not content to sit and play with bored expressions.”
These spirited musicians will be performing Rossini’s L’Italiana in Algeri, Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 11 with Byron Schenkman on piano, and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 4 in Tacoma’s Rialto Theatre Saturday night.
Exit 133 reviewed last night's Northwest Sinfonietta concert in Seattle.
I'm reviewing tonight's performance in Tacoma for Spew. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Rialto Theater, Saturday, Oct. 6, 7:30 p.m., $12-$50, 310 S. Ninth St., Tacoma, 253. 383.5344]
OK, forget about the ‘80s-era aerobic craze — today’s fitness is less about the clothes and the pose, and more about adapting to active interests, and adding them to daily lifestyle to enhance health.
At least, that’s the premise put out there by Metro Parks in their Active Living Every Day classes, to be held beginning Oct. 10 for 20 weeks at the Metro Parks Tacoma main office on Wednesday from 7-8:30 p.m. The $135 cost includes an Active Living Every Day book and access to additional support through the program’s web site and online study guide.
This won’t be an exercise class, so don’t worry about finding the perfect matching headband and legwarmers: rather, the behavior-change program looks at creative and simple ways to be active every day, everywhere, and create a lifetime of active habits that will result in health benefits. — Jessica Corey-Butler
You want freebies?
Third Thursday Art Walk consumes downtown Tacoma Thursday, Sept. 20, 5-8 p.m. It allows art enthusiasts into the museums free and serves up some fancy new treats like the brand spanking new Helm Gallery, which looks to be bringing an intriguing blend of avant-garde and accessibility to the art scene.
Walk through the standard venues and see some new sights Thursday, like the new works at the Sanford & Son Middle Floor Gallery by familiar names James Hume and Jeff Olsen, who’ll be on hand from 5 to 9 p.m. for an artists’ reception.
Embracing the change of season, Gallery Madera will present "Change," featuring works by Karen Luke Fildes and Rae Belkin, as well as sculptural wood turnings by Milo Mirabelli and Christi Mirabelli. Tacoma singer-songwriter Mary Win will be on hand with musical entertainment during the artists’ reception there from 5 to 8 p.m.
Also opening Thursday, Tacoma Public Library’s Handforth Gallery will bring a new exhibition pairing Joni Joachims with Katie Carnell. While Joachims’ work features unnoticed T-Town, Carnell’s features an intriguing format — seven inches by 10 feet — telling stories about Irish immigrants fleeing famine. — Jessica Corey-Butler
So here we are, on the brink of autumn again, standing on the precipice looking down into a season of decadent classical musical treats that happen to be playing live in our own backyard, more or less.
And though the idea is compelling, I’m not referring to the Sept. 27 performance of the Dark Star Orchestra that the Broadway Center for the Performing Arts is bringing to the Pantages Theatre. While it would be great fun to see the ultimate in Grateful Dead tribute bands, especially in light of my 5-year-old’s recent declaration that their Greatest Hits album contains “the best music, ever,” I think my own autumnal tastes go more towards “La Traviata” than “Truckin’.”
And so, if it’s classical music I’m looking to enjoy, the Northwest Sinfonietta performs Saturday, Sept. 8 at the Rialto Theater. The concert pairs Music Director Christophe Chagnard’s dynamic musical stylings with the virtuosity of 23-year-old Seattle cello phenom Joshua Roman, who’s taken Seattle by storm by taking over as principal cellist for the Seattle Symphony.
Roman, whose influences include JS Bach, Slava Rostropovich, The Beatles, Radiohead, Jimi Hendrix, and Sergei Rachmaninoff (as a pianist, not composer) as well as Yo Yo Ma and Hilary Hahn, will play three concertos representing three centuries.
Whoa.
A concerto is, to a classical musician soloist, what a marathon is to a seasoned runner. To do three at once is a feat; to span three centuries of style is kind of like changing shoes from Nikes to Keds midway through the third race.
But Roman’s the kind of performer who can pull off the Haydn Cello Concerto in D, followed by Schumann’s Cello Concerto in A minor, finalized with Shostakovich’s Cello Concerto in E flat; with the fabulously capable sinfonietta backing him, and Chagnard behind the baton, it’s guaranteed to be a hot night of classical music even if the weather outside is cold. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Rialto Theater, Saturday, Sept. 8, $25-$100, 310 S. Ninth St., Tacoma, 253.591.5894]
Some days, all you can say is, “well, Hell.”
Take last night.
The Significant One was recovering from some food poisoning issue from last night’s Anthony’s meal, (it was a grim, loud, toilet-lovin’ night for him) so I had the kid, and was left pretty much to my own devices at the Spelling Bee at King’s Books. ADULT spelling bee, mind you, where freakish 5 year olds running around were about as welcome as a pronouncement of herpes on a first date.
Even still, co Volcano-worker Susan Bell (last year’s partner Amanda was beginning her new classes at St Martin’s College, hence couldn’t be my team mate) and I were amped for success.
We were spellin’ fiends.
We were gunnin’ to win.
In round two, as my child became more ebullient, we received the word “discipline.” I knew, well, how to spell it.
And then, round three, we got “abscess.”
Our conference went back and forth about c, s, or sc, for long moments that left the audience twitchy in discomfort.
I figured, meh, go down in flames, or succeed: head to Hawaii in a day and avoid public mockery.
“Abcess”
“DING!”
The bell, rung by Miss Abegale McDermott, chirpily told us how wrong we were.
We were OUT.
We chatted, we ran after the kid, we left.
I have no idea how the bee ended.
I hope my dear readers will enlighten me? — Jesikuh Quarry-Buhlter
Adult Spelling Bee winners
Dave Riddle and Bill Root (Team 4) won. Sean and Sondra Victor (Team 1) grabbed second place.
Winning word: succedaneun, meaning: substitute.
Usage example: "Abscess" proved to be my succedaneun partner's and my undoing.
I heard about a thing that was going on, a thing that had something to do with yellow, a party, a preview, and possibly a nod to a Swedish movie from 1967.
Naturally, I was in, and had the privilege of viewing an example of the things that the rest of Tacoma will view on Sunday at a super special undisclosed — as of yet — location, which will be disclosed come Sunday morning, don’t fret.
What I found was a bunch of stuff that made me giggle, think, and feel glad that I was a part of that community that celebrates the quirky, the fun, and the celebratory with a nod to the cerebral.
And of course, there was the yellow, and the community. The community will be present, and vibrant, when you go to see them on Sunday. I can’t wait to see what Sunday’s “I Am Curious … Yellow” yard sale holds!
In the meantime, here are some sneak peeks of last night’s “Yellow” preparation party. — Jessica Corey-Butler
So there you were at the Dave Matthews Band show at the Gorge on Sunday night — the last of three packed shows at the Eastern Washington outdoor amphitheater. A huge monitor shows Dave’s latest project, a song called “Eh Hee,” and you thought, that’s pretty groovy. Whoa, check out those dancers!
You thought one looked familiar? Yep, you got it right, it was Kate Monthy of Tacoma’s MLKBallet, working with choreographer Zoe Scofield and other dancers she regularly performs with on the Tacoma School of the Arts stage during “MOVE!” performances.
If you didn’t go to the Gorge, then you can download the video free, for a limited time, on iTunes, and check out some absolutely stunning dance. Maybe even become inspired to sign up for adult ballet at MLKBallet for the fall session starting Sept. 18 — if only to be in the same room with a person who’s met Dave up close and personal.
Contact MLKBallet at 253.906.2190 for more information on classes and schedules or go to www.mlkballet.org to find out more about the organization that seeks to bring a world-class dance program to Tacoma. — Jessica Corey-Butler
When the family goes out together to eat, we have our tried and true favorites, and rarely deviate. The wee one and I always, hands down, prefer the Rosewood Cafe. Mom likes the wine, kid likes the picnic plate and super friendly service.
When dad’s in the mix, our tastes range from Anthony’s to Dukes, as both are laid back but reasonably nice places we can feel comfortable having a sip and a nibble while the kid colors.
So there we were, trying to decide on a nice family dinner on Labor Day weekend, wanting something different.
“Why don’t we try that new pizza place on Sixth?” said the significant one, to which I replied, “Farrelli’s hardly new, dear,” to which he shot back, “Yeah, but we’ve never been there.”
Of course, on the heels of our trip to Hawaii, all I could think of was “Carbs will stick to gut like a spare tire,” but I smiled and said, “Sure honey.”
And am I ever glad I did!
Service was adequate, with drinks and food coming quickly. On my second glass of wine, the server suggested I get the bottle, a mere $9 and take it home, since it’d cost more than that for two glasses.
Twist my arm and watch me say yes.
As for the pizza, we chose the California, with pesto sauce, feta and mozzarella cheeses, chicken, mushrooms, artichoke hearts, red onions, sun dried tomatoes and walnuts.
I was skeptical but amazed that Significant One was daring enough to try it, so I went along for the ride.
Holy cow, was it good! The crust, hand tossed while the wee one watched in amazement, was the perfect not too thin, not too thick, not too hard, not too soft crust, while the toppings worked together in the most yummy of ways. Somehow I managed to stop myself at three pieces, though the Significant One tried to get me to eat one last piece. I said, “Hawaii, bikini, and he took it upon himself to finish it up.
I noticed he didn’t seem too put-upon as he did so.
Even the kid enjoyed her own cheese pizza, eating more than I thought she was capable of (her picky eating is legendary). Fortunately, she did have some left, so I was able to snack on cold pizza later at home: the red sauce must have some controlled substance in it, because it’s addictive. After a taste, I had to polish the whole thing off.
At the end of it all, the bill was a reasonable, sub $40, and we all walked away smiling.
I’m just happy the board shorts are stretchy. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Until very recently, the terms bachata and merengue weren’t a part of my general consciousness.
Then I learned about DJ Mauro and his Sweet Salsa Saturdays, and how he was helping to bring the band Nueva Era out to Oh! Gallagher's every Saturday night.
Interest piqued, especially after listening to the sounds on the band’s MySpace, I had to go see the Dominican band from the East Coast for myself last night.
I not just saw for myself, I moved for myself, and had the time of my life as my hips and feet moved to merengue, bachata, salsa, and reggaeton beats. More fun was watching the crowd, who well and truly knew how to shake it with all the proper steps and spins.
While our initial service was a bit surly, the Oh! Gallaghers staff redeemed themselves as the evening wore on, with $5 Long Island Ice Teas that sustained my hip-shaking.
But surpassing my expectations were the performances themselves—Miguelin Miguelin brought his hip-hop vibe to the stage and beyond, creating a chill mix of poetry and beats that impressed me even though I hadn’t a clue what he was saying (note to self- learn Spanish.)
And then Nueva Era hit the stage, I remembered why I made the trek out to Lakewood. The backbone of their sound is an intriguing rhythm that I can’t quite put a name to, with a melodic hook that I can’t quite get out of my mind. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Nueva Era brings East Coast Latin, blues and R&B to Oh! Gallagher’s Saturday.
DJ Mauro has had a problem with his phone lately: it won’t stop ringing. People keep calling the DJ/Latin music promoter asking to be put on his VIP list for the show he’s bringing to Oh! Gallagher’s in Lakewood tonight.
But DJ Mauro’s fretting that there may not be enough space in the house for all those wanting tickets; the band is big enough that selling out of tickets seems imminent.
The band he’s bringing is East Coast band Nueva Era, and they’ll play the traditional Latin sound known as bachata live for the first time in Tacoma. Tradition is mixed with contemporary hip-hop sounds and Latin meringue beats, creating a melodic and rhythmic quality that makes them addictively easy to listen to.
Nueva Era will hit the Oh! Gallagher’s stage at midnight Saturday after DJ Mauro spins reggaeton, merengue, and salsa from 9 to 10 p.m., following which the band Miguelina Miguelina will play their merengue hip-hop blend from 11 p.m. to midnight, with Nueva Era hitting the stage at midnight. Tickets are $15, 9 to 10 p.m., and $20 from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m.
DJ Mauro spins every Saturday night at Oh! Gallagher’s. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Oh! Gallagher’s, Saturday, Sept. 1, 9 p.m., $10-$15, 7304 Lakewood Dr., Lakewood, 253.472.3009]
A quick chat with Bombay Bistro chef Barveen Buri today yielded some tantalizing informational tidbits:
Yes, the inside of the Bombay Bistro has been ready to go for quite some time, but the establishment won’t open for about another two weeks, pending the reworking of the lot’s existing parking lots.
“We are ready for guests,” explains Buri (who’s called “Prince” by those who know and love him) “but the law is the law.”
“I am very excited to open, to make the food and give the good tastes to my guests,” he adds.
I’m there waiting at the door in two weeks time — he had me at “Naanwich.” — Jessica Corey Butler
[Bombay Bistro, 4328 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.761.9999]
The Tacoma Art Museum’s Twinkle! Pop-Crush-Fizz fund-raising party Friday night started like most arts events, with a fair amount of milling about and politely shared pleasantries.
The milling was actually hugely enjoyable, with painters Steve Jensen and Merrilee Moore working on live, very scantily clad bodies and with the "Sparkle Then Fade" exhibit open for viewing, not to mention the fab drinkie-poos (I was digging the star fruit cosmos, for sure!) and a chocolate fountain that smelled an awful lot like Heaven.
But as the evening’s temperature cooled down, the action heated up, starting off with a taste of roller derby provided by the Dockyard Derby Dames' fabulous femmes of Femme Fianna. The ladies seemed to help the crowd break the ice and release their inner party animals. That feeling was then enhanced by the lounge music stylings of Lushy, who got the bodies up and moving, encouraged by the groovy go-go action, though DJ Vodka Twist was keeping the energy thumping and kept it there even after Lushy finished.
I was loving seeing recognized friends like Jenny Fab and The Frenchman as well as arts fixture KAke and some of the hippest Junior League Ladies I’ve ever met.
Even the significant one, not known as being Mr. Socialite, enjoyed himself, which is saying volumes for how the TAM can throw a party.
I can’t wait til the next one! — Jessica Corey-Butler
So you wonder — as I do — how the Tacoma Art Museum will trump its community celebration, Glitter, Glisten, and Gleam, held several weeks ago.
First in the equation, leave the kids at home. Next, add drag diva Sylvia O’Stayformore and DJ Vodka Twist. Add the band Lushy, performing with go-go dancing troupe Tangerine Tonic. Then throw in the Dockyard Derby Dames roller derby team Femme Fianna and let them roll in the museum plaza. How about a couple of artists painting live body builders? How about food and booze? Maybe even a specially-designed martini glass created by M Space.
And presto!
Twinkle! Pop-Crush-Fizz, an enchanted evening of grown-up art and culture takes place tonight at 8 p.m.
See full story here. — Jessica Corey-Butler
About two years ago a group of friends were talking about some ideas they’d all been incubating for a number of years. These ideas for Mark, Jennifer, Pamela, and Paul, and two others who weren’t present as we met eventually coalesced into the form of anarchism.
The like-thinking group of people talked about the idea of opening the Pitch Pipe Infoshop, but the idea didn’t quite materialize during that first wave of discussions.
Then, as they revived the conversations, held meetings and discussed philosophies, “it happened immediately,” with its grand opening held on July 31.
The four speak through agreement; as anarchists they work and communicate collectively. The term “collective” is used a lot; there’s the collective of housemates who live in the home, which has some crossover to the Infoshop collective. “Not all are in both.”
I pose a general anarchy question from the standpoint of ignorance: my first and main experience with anarchy, maybe 25 years ago, was hearing on the news about the angry, violent punk anarchist mobs rebelling in England.
But the four before me are peace-loving, with some of them being involved in the Tacoma organization Food not Bombs. They commute by bikes and organize the fourth-Friday Critical Mass bike ride. The four in front of me are Tacoma anarchists, hoping to disseminate information that illuminates the ideas behind anarchism.
Pamela explains the concept by breaking down the word to its Greek roots, “An archy, not hierarchical. We don’t use authoritrianism.”
She adds, “We don’t have a president at Infoshop. We do have rules, but everyone decides on them.”
In terms of living daily as anarchists, the concept of “living within certain constraints” is repeated often. They obey laws, particularly those that involve common sense. Most have jobs. Paul explains, “One of the big challenges is trying to live differently; it seems like a lot of anarchists aren’t living differently. We’re paying rent, buying food. It’s difficult not to.”
What they try to do differently is live critically, asking questions like, “What is this rule? Who is benefiting from it? What are the options?”
Paul adds, “It’s not enough to live independent of the system, but to change the system.”
The Infoshop will try to do just that at their space on 617 S. 17th St., free for the public use during regular hours Friday noon to 4 p.m. and Saturdays 4-7 p.m., as well as during special events like workshops, skill-building sessions, movie nights and more.
“We could potentially serve as a meeting space; we’re pretty much open to anything that serves the community,” says Mark.
Contact them by e-mail, or go to the Pitchpipe Infoshop MySpace page for more information. — Jessica Corey-Butler
What the Glass Roots Arts Festival lacked in crowd size yesterday, it made up in heart, with an intimate setting that belied the size of the area (Court D, between 11th and 13th streets) and the wide range of activity that took place there.
I was most impressed with the 2FtCrew’s work on the Embellish building — not quite so purple anymore! — and the musical stylings on the stage — not so loud as to overpower the conversations, but nice to listen to.
It actually worked out as the perfect all-family event, and I was happy to see Volcano scribe Angela Jossy and her not so little kid on stage, Trish Lecy-Davis’ daughter and her entourage, as well as Lisa and Abby McDermott, book lovers about the town. Of course it was also fun to see my Hogbot friends and Tim Kapler, as well as a few of the usual art-festival suspects (Hey Houston, Hey Ann!), but then it was cool also to see faces I didn’t have names for, with pugs and babies in backpacks.
I like perusing the booths, ranging in wares from cultural art to spray-can canvases, glass ware from Tacoma Glassblowing, jewelry, and even metal art as décor.
Fun community, fun festival! — Jessica Corey-Butler
You could condense Tim Kapler’s recent opening at Sanford & Son into two words: talent, and love.
There was talent on view, despite Kapler’s vehement pooh-pooh’s that he had none.
Thing is, the graphic designer/cum UWT –AV dude has an ability to take a square head and take it totally beyond square headishness; to take a 2D idea and make them move on a canvas.
I was confused.
I knew Tim back in the day when he suspended a rubber duck via a string by its neck for the UWT Ledger, and called it "Pointless."
I knew Tim as a really quiet mellow dude who did AV for my school and who did some cool random artistic stuff, but not as an artist, per se.
I knew Tim as the guy who showed up in Kulture Lab shows, whose POINTLESS columns I occasionally saw, and it was good.
His new show, which hangs through September’s second Thursday, shows the side of Kapler that makes me tingle to see: there’e talent in his blockhead guys, from the vibrant play of background to figure, to the heavy-handed, light-hearted play of subject matter itself here’s the gun — index finger — there’s the sprayed brains — colorful, green yellow orange, on brown.
The opening event showed love in the crowd, present: I saw Hogbot afficionados, I saw Kulture Lab-ers. I saw Tim’s mom, dad, sister, nephew, niece; I saw Gretchen and Mindy who stuck him into the space in the first place.
I saw a segment of the crowd unfamiliar to me, though it was doubtless an Third Thursday Art Walk crowd, in and out, in and out. I saw Kapler himself, smiling, amazed.
I saw me, smiling, amazed: dude. The stuff on the wall is good.
Crazy good.
I saw me chucking, to myself — Dude. Kapler’s crazy good.
See it. Tell me I’m wrong. I’ll argue.
Who the heck knew a Prom could be so much freaking fun?
I sure didn’t.
I was expecting a good time, of course, since I know those Sanford & Son Middle Floor Merchants throw a great party.
But “great party” doesn’t even begin to cover the extent of the fun that I had at “One Night in Bangkok” last night. I got my socks rocked off, laughed my ass off, chatted my mouth tired, and danced my legs down to the knees (sorry to steal your words, Morrissey, but they just fit).
Highlights were too numerous to mention in entirety, fabulous friends many and varied, and fun moments and conversational snippets plentiful, but here’s a short list of my favorites of each:
Oh my God, Girl Trouble kicks ass. Their garage infused, hard charging, straight ahead, good times, tightly woven rock and roll made my jaw drop, and they’re my new crush. And then, there was the “Wow, Wow, Wow, The Fucking Eagles Fucking Rock” factor. I had heard all kinds of rumors about how great both bands were, and I kind of smiled and nodded because, typically, I’m not a real live-music loving girl (I tend to be the whiner at the back going, “it’s so loud,”), but today as I woke up with my ears ringing I just had to smile and say, Yeah, baby.
DJ Tony Rice injected infectious grooves between band sets and into the wee hours. Thanks for the '70s soul grooves DJ Rice!
Melanie and Ebony outfitted some of the best dressed of the evening, Jenny Fab, Tracy Marie, Megan Underground, KAke: you..look…marvelous! Of course my own pink confection ripped out at the zipper but, meh, I got what I paid for ($9.99, Bargain World). Mindy Barker had my original dress choice (and she wore it very well, I have to say) Now I know what I must do for future events and wardrobe pieces that will make my heart sing and make me the envy of fashionista friends: Vanity, oh Vanity. And Ebony, are you opening a new shop soon? Please!
Though there were no chaperones for the evening, there were several hipster parents healthily enjoying themselves, among whom were Renee’s, Gretchen’s mom, and Mindy and Carrie Barker’s mom.
The punch was, by all accounts, lethal. I stuck to a secret red wine (mmm, Petite Syrah, a nice one!) stashed away for me by Amazing Mike from Stadium Bistro; the Petes were also in the house, with Chef Pete smiling his happy smile and being just all kinds of Prom crush-worthy.
Did you hear that? There was some baby-talking in the air. Whee! Babies are fun!
Did you hear that? The Prom King and Queen — Cheryl And Alan Gorscuh — might have been a rigged thing, but hey — if you can coordinate boutonniere, classic car, footwear and gown, you deserve to be royalty. I heard rumblings that the sentimental favorites for king and Queen were the KAke and the robin’s-egg blue man on her arm (so sorry I spilled red wine on your white trousers and white and blue shoes, dude).
Did you hear that? Oh, wait that’s just my ears ringing.
I think I’ll go back to bed smiling, remembering the best prom ever. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The Midsummer Soiree came to the Warehouse, transforming a downtown Tacoma dirty alley into a clean narrow street with festive canopies, and transforming a boxy warehouse live/work space into an opulent party pad with bar and many lovelies wandering about.
The party planners themselves were transformed, resplendent in their finery with their art on display.
Desiree Flerchinger had a new nude on display (chained to a keyboard) that I especially loved, while Lia Craven’s impressive use of duct tape and subject matter intrigued me.
Also whimsical and fun, Suzanne Skaar’s works (was that a bunny on a Vespa?) and Linda De Santis Lapping’s fun little ceramic faces and fabulous skeletons. Impressive, as well, Elizabeth Cardany’s sensual work with the brush, and Mandi Webster-Martin’s eye with the lens.
Unlike December’s Eyefull event, the Midsummer Soiree had a good-sized crowd that appreciated, rather than consumed, the art, which included the performance variety. I especially loved seeing Kate Monthy and Mary Mabry performing a piece they’d preciously performed at "Ten Tiny Dances" — yep, on a tiny stage. Unlike Ten Tiny Dances, which performed on a low stage, this dance was set high for the crowd to enjoy, as were the aerialists.
And yet another really cool element of the Soiree, the moments of free-form, improvisational fun that brought the crowd to the forefront, and where members of the crowd was almost as much fun as the art.
I can’t wait ‘til the next one! — Jessica Corey Butler
The scenesters who filled the interior of the Bella Vita Restaurant and Ultra Lounge appeared to be enjoying posh cocktails and yummy looking plates — due to my attendance sans date I was standing around, milling awkwardly in a sea of unfamiliar faces.
The parking lot alluded to the crowd inside, filling the lots at Tacoma's Bella Vita, the as-yet-unopened Opa, and even spilling over to Safeway across the street.
“Appropriate attire” ranged from high-end jeans to wool trousers, for men, and flowing frocks to Capri khakis, for women.
The food appeared to be snack-like, though as a VIP “soft open” that doesn’t mean anything for the menu later on (which promised to be high-end Italian.)
What I loved about the space, a mere two miles from my home, was the potential for lounge-cocktails, similar in feeling (and lighting) to the Blue Olive, with a cozy section defined by opulent blue fabric that spans the entire width of the restaurant, to either side of the front door.
At first I thought the low-slung table heaped with fruit sitting in one portion on the area alluded to a Tatami-style dining experience (which confused me: Italian eats in a former casino a’ la Japan?) but I read the writing on the wall—actually, the computer-generated sign — apologizing for the lack of couches, which would be arriving soon for lounging enjoyment. The other side of the door showed how the space will work, and showed full occupancy.
There looked to be a dance floor, CG fish swimming on flat-panel TVs (apparently, today’s décor piece de riguer) and low key lighting tucked in a well-shaped black ceiling that did a nice job of wiping out the feeling of the former business in the pace, though I have to wonder how the whole car wash/Carl’s Jr./pawn shop/bowling alley/Arby’s location will work for them in the long run.
My suspicion is that once word gets out about how cool the interior is, and providing the service, food, and drinks remain good, the location will work great as a good central place that UP residents, North Enders, West Enders, and Fircrest residents can go to for a night out on the town.
For us, I think it’ll work great — once inside, the location is a moot point, and it’s close enough to the house that we’ll be able to sneak away for a quick bite and sip pretty easily.
We shall see though, once service (and the couches) are up and running in a full capacity. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The Freighthouse Square 20th Birthday event proved drier than Zoobilee, with the rain holding off for the majority of the day, so that people milling about could check out the cool cars outside while staying dry.
I heard many comments of surprise, with people enjoying and appreciating the changes seen in the Square; the good energy and family feeling between the merchants was palpable, and the food was, as usual, wonderful. While I think it’s great to have so many amazing choices of food, all indie-great, I think the people who have to wait for me to make up my mind think it’s less wonderful (think about that annoying person at the ice cream shop who asks to taste all the flavors, then reverts back to vanilla—that’s me). My default at Freighthouse is Greek, though the Burgers and Frites are my new favorite indulgence, ever.
Good times, all day, and I can’t wait to try the Spirit of Washington dinner train after it begins its run out of Tacoma on Aug. 4. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I would never, ever call the Significant One “cheap” but he is very cautious about where his money goes.
This is the man who has been known to balk at a $12 buzz cut (his preferred coiffure) but when I was explaining the Tight Cuts concept to him, he perked up a bit. (I think the words “leather,” and “hot chicks” might have had something to do with it.)
He still was a bit unsure about the cost: “28 bucks?” he wondered, with that skeptical little scowl he gets.
So I went in on the Tacoma store opening Friday, and watched a steady stream of clients mosey on up to the chairs, perhaps with a bit of curiosity on their faces.
Resting their eyes on Michelle Machale and Marian Johnson, stylists on duty, the curiosity turned to appreciation; as they left that appreciation seemed to have morphed into respect.
The guys I saw walk out of there not only got good hair, but they got a hot towel face wrap while their scalps (and necks and shoulders) enjoyed a bit of massage and excellent product loving (Tight Cuts uses Crew products, mmm, nice).
As for the Significant One, he was initially put right to comfort by the atmosphere. (“It’s like where we stay at Vegas,” he explained, likening the atmosphere to The Hotel at Mandalay Bay, where he goes to hang with friends to recharge every now and again.) He also seemed to appreciate the fact that when he said what he needed — not a guard, but a regular clipper — they “got it” and gave him a great cut with Marian, as per his expectations. His expectations were exceeded—as proposed by CEO Dominic Casey — by the personal-basin wash, and more, more, more. In this salon, each high-end chair gets a basin, and each cut gets a massage; each service gets a tech who cares.
And much as the Significant One hated to admit how much he liked the end result — and, in fact, the whole experience—my suspicion is, the Tight Cuts folks just got a client for life. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Take two things I love — Tacoma, and boutiques — mix ‘em together with a little bit of liquid spirit, and call me in Heaven!
Love Tacoma’s Hipster Boutique Tour covered some mileage with a mix of Link and good old-fashioned foot power, attended by about 12 Beautiful People (one of whom was male, and appeared to be loving the True Religion jeans at Rocky & Coco’s).
At Dame Lola, the shopping got serious, with the work Zoobilee thrown around with frequency and force. I loved hearing Rebecca’s wisdom on the trends, and the subsequent moments of “Ohmygosh, this is THE dress!!”
I loved the boutique-oriented conversations, like the exclamations about how fab Tiki Lounge is (pity its distance — really not far at all, but considering the hour and the close-proximity boutiques we covered, it put us out of walking range) and other enthusiastic, Tacoma-loving moments.
Especially fun, talking to two lovelies from Boston — one a recent transplant, one just visiting — whose positivity about the city made me glow with pride. They had a pretty amazing basis for comparison after all.
Junior Bizarre and urbanXchange were also covered in the tour, with a stop off at 21 Commerce after all the shopping love was over. But for me, I had a kid and a curfew so had to call it an early evening, pity, pity, pity, for I could have shopped and reveled in Tacoma Love all night. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I think I get it now.
When one Lakewood Idol hopeful sang a song I recognized from “High School Musical,” I realized, a ha!
Basically, maybe this whole Idol thing is all about corrective emotional experience-making for high school performers who never got that lead role in the musical, or never got that choir solo. Maybe they’re re-living their glory days much like the high school football jock becomes a coach so he can push his team to victory.
Or something.
I don’t know, it’s just a theory.
See, while I’m ashamed to admit I know about things like “High School Musical” songs (I’ll tank the Disney Channel’s non-commercials in the middle of programming, for that) I “missed” the whole American Idol phenomenon. Maybe it’s Simon and his nastiness or Paula and her subsequent syrupy sweet. Maybe it’s the general distaste I have for people willing to humiliate themselves nationally. Maybe it’s the music: one can handle only so many “cover” versions of songs one never cared about in the first place, done with that appalling lack of regard to singing a clear note.
What’s with that? Why do people feel the need to over-perform the songs, Broadway-ing out their vibrato to earsplitting range, then drawing their final notes into some kind of hip-hoperatic mythical proportions?
Call me bitter because my own singing talents are negligible, or call me an orchestra geek; for whatever reason, I just don’t generally care much for the “Idol” stuff.
So there I was, last night, at the Lakewood Town Hall, watching, amused, as couples shuffled in and out looking to get hitched. So there I was, listening to singers as they stood, occasionally girlishly at the mic, mumbling their names and ages unintelligibly, occasionally nervously giggling prior to pouring their hearts, souls, and “I can sing”-ness into the space.
There were a few guys — three? Four? Ranging from, I think, 11 to over 50-something, but mostly there were girls, singing a range of hip-hop, R & B, gospel, Christian, country, and show tunes, with one notable and appreciated selection of a Lisa Loeb song, a bit discredited when the singer, a formal Tacoma Idol hopeful finished up saying, “oh well, I messed up.”
And then there was another singer, a young gal rumored to either have won Tacoma Idol or Tacoma Jr. Idol last year. “I guess you can only compete in Tacoma Idol once?” was the speculation.
In the end, I think it was probably the first singer, Antonia Darlene, who will take the Lakewood Idol title when she competes against the top eight finalists from last night’s field of 20 (that was the count as of 6 p.m., at which point the singers present had all performed: the doors would remain open to other comers until 7.)
The Lakewood Idol Finals will happen at American Lake Park at 6:30 on July 24, where the $500 check and chance to compete against the other city “Idols” — including Tacoma — at the Puyallup fair will be awarded.
One of the judges, Brenda Leach of Countrywide Mortgage, also happened to represent the company that donated $250 of that check (the additional $250 came from Kelly Norman of Windermere Real Estate.)
The other judges, Roger Laibourne, a musician, and Dr Ben Keller, Lakes High School Choir director, were making the “winner” decision after the event, and contacting the winner at home.
When I find out, I’ll share, since I know you’ll be dying to know. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I had a 7 a.m. sunny run with the hounds around Point Defiance, a four and a half hour cloudy housecleaning spree prior to getting my bod down to Art on the Ave, the Sixth Avenue community and art festival.
Consequently, I was tired and half expecting it to rain by the time I made it to Culture Babe’s house, and surprised that by the time we hit the first strains of music emanating from Jazzbones, the sun was emerging again.
The festival was everything and more than I was expecting, with friends like Mindy Barker (helped by Gretchen) and Leigh (helped by Tracy Marie), Willow Eskridge (helped by her super cool images) all my Dockyard Derby Dames friends, and more, more, more hanging out looking like they thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Fun, too to see Midsummer Soiree friends Mandy, Dez, and Suzanne sitting in the Jazzbones garden with buckets o’ booze (hurricanes?).
Culture Babe and I headed to co-scribe Jossy, who scored a grand table in front of Six Olives where CB and I shared a mojito “event” (32 ounces of mojito love, though I suspect it was considerably less, what with the large volume of ice in the glass).
Our dipping fries with wasabi ailoli were crunchy divinity, and were gone all too quickly — by the time we were out of food and libations, a Luau group had assembled and CB and I wandered around, taking in the sights.
At CHAOS, I saw what appeared to be a well-orchestrated flurry of activity, with agile men climbing streamers of Volcanoes created by creatively dressed individuals of to the top of an impressively large scaffolding, under the watchful eye of Lynn Di Nino. It was mesmerizing to listen to the orators, and watch the hubbub, and then to see the crowd gather just past the construction, watching brave Derby Dames scramble around a quarter-sized “rink” to give the masses a taste of what Derby can look like.
Art cars were rad, DASH performers talented, booths interesting, and all told, more fun than I thought a festival could be.
For me, things like Art on the Ave show what the next level of community can look like: all kinds of people gathering together to enjoy the city at its casual fun best.
And as Culture Babe and I sat in the shelter of Pairings, meeting up with Jennevieve, Trevor, and Julia, we mused over the very full couple of hours.
All good things must end, and I came home to my clean house and family with a happy sigh and a single, simple thought.
Mmm, Tacoma. — Jessica Corey-Butler
There are few things that point to how Tacoma’s growing as plainly as the Freedom Fair.
Sure, it’s always been a huge deal.
In 1978, when I was 4 we’d make the pilgrimage from Lakewood to Ruston Way. It seemed like we had to walk forever, but in hindsight, I think we parked on Ruston Way. Fast forward to the '80s, hanging out with high school friends, we’d drive to Thea Foss Waterway and hike through desolate spaces to the festivities.
Now we live about a mile away from the waterfront, and still try to score parking closer, but discovered this year, that wasn’t gonna’ be easy.
The thing was crazy busy, and kept getting busier, though the crazy part seemed to be kept in tow by the many police around.
But with a bored (and overwhelmed?) kid in tow, we found it easier to avoid the crowds and lines and come home, hang out with good friends and do quiet family things like water balloon fighting, eating, hosting our own version of a beer garden, and a taking a trip to Jefferson Park’s sprayground. While on our way there, we found a mini Freedom Fair above it all, in the Baptist Seminary neighborhood, where I think we’ll hang out next year.
The part of the fireworks we could see from our house (we do have a commanding view of it from the roof, but couldn’t find our ladder) showed that that, too, has grown, compared to the parts we’ve been able to see the years before.
And while the whole day was super cool, it made me nostalgic to think back to the years when things were just a bit more mellow, the crowds were just a bit smaller, and the moving up Ruston Way went just a bit more quickly.
Because even when I was 8, though I didn’t want to walk (and there wasn’t much to see, except the fireworks,) I could get from point A to point B with a bit less irritation.
But seeing a huge crowd celebrate the day was fun to see, and hearing about the people who made trips over from all kinds of surrounding spots made me proud of my city. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Not too long ago, there was a certain incident at Brick City that left a person dead, another wounded. One paramedic saw the lifeless body, another administered aid to the wounded one.
They were back at the scene — or, across the street from it — last night.
The pair were out having a drink and dinner at Vin Grotto, where I was enjoying the ambiance of a good outdoors patio, alone with my book, "Get Some Hairapy" by Aura Mae.
Far from shrinking into shady obscurity, that Pacific Avenue strip is thriving, with Capers, Meconi's, Matador, Vin Grotto, and Paddy Coyne's all vying for diners.
All have outdoors patios where the summer breezes and the sight of passers by make for an enjoyable evening; that enjoyment factor raises by several notches when you have great food and great wine.
Add a good bargain? And I’m in heaven on Pac Ave.
My filet mignon was tender and perfectly seasoned, with a demiglaze sauce I wanted to lick off the plate. Fortunately, I didn’t have to lick, because a sizable portion of roasted red potatoes — also seasoned to perfection — was conveniently located on the plate, perfect for mopping. The green beans I also devoured were, again, seasoned in some combination of flavors that had me in a state of ecstasy, and then matched with chevre.
The Syrah I sipped was the $5 special, while the filet was $20.
I was amazed, and wandered away from Pac Ave in a state of bliss.
Like other substances that may have been a source of commerce on that avenue, I’m afraid Vin Grotto Chef Kaj’s cooking might prove addictive.
Sign me up for more, please! — Jessica Corey-Butler
It’s entirely possible, you won’t see me in the Oscars.
Though I played a part in the film "The Obituary Writer" Saturday, I fear my acting was as inscrutable as it had been in junior high school, with my happy expressions looking sad, scared expressions looking calm, and puzzled expressions appearing all-knowing.
I can’t help it, it’s my own special gift, that when I’m joking, people think I’m serious, and when I’m serious, people think I’m joking.
Even still, I had a sweaty-hot blast, standing on a step stool behind a cut-out space that was my obituary; I was the not-dead dead person into whose world the “protagonist” arrived, along with about eight other not-dead people.
The whole thing felt like being involved in a sixth-grader’s fantasy, with arrows thrown and black-ish purple substance sprayed around, all within the constraints of about a nine foot by nine foot space where a smoke machine created “atmosphere” and lights created heat, which was pretty unnecessary on a warm summer’s day.
The film was being created by Kevin Jacobs and his group of creative-minded friends, several of whom wielded their own super-8 cameras. Jacobs will put together the footage of us into one of his experimental short films like "Die Cut," which showed recently at a film festival in Toronto.
Will I make it to Canada, or onto a red carpet in Lala-land?
Highly doubtful.
But was the experience fun?
Highly. — Jessica Corey-Butler
It’s a dilemma.
I find out weekly, sometimes daily, about people offering services and doing them really well, sometimes at really good costs. Things like massages, waxing, pedicures, manicures, hair cuts, hair coloring, are brought to my attention, and I get to meet fabulous professionals who rock my world.
And then there’s that loyalty thing.
I love my peeps, those who have been my providers for services since, like, forever. I feel like a married hot chick in a singles bar — so many options, all so interesting … and yet …
So I put this to you, dear readers: What do you do when you want to change providers for spa services? Just fail to make follow-up appointments? How do you explain situations if providers are good friends? And have you ever been placed in the awkward position of finding a provider in your existing salon who you wish to change to, but don’t know how to explain that to your current provider?
Tell me what you do via the comment thingy on this blog or at feedback@weeklyvolcano.com; put “hairchat dilemma” in the subject line.
Thanks for your loyalty! — Jessica Corey-Butler
Ominous clouds and frequent torrential downpours did nothing to daunt the plucky festival planners and participants putting on the Urban Art Festival yesterday. While a couple of booths closed up shop after the first main deluge soaked goods and spirits, festival-goers were treated to plenty of amusements and entertainments regardless of weather.
One of the highlights for me was the sight of the busty beauties wandering about the festival, putting their assets out front and center for the world to appreciate. I particularly liked “knockers” and “hooters,” though all of them made me smile and giggle.
I loved what scribe Angela Jossy did with the Volcano space, and I loved seeing co-scribe Paul Schrag (and was that a Natasha sighting?).
Another highlight, both for the wee one and me, was the needle-punched felted creatures created in the i heart rummage booth by Laurie Sharp of woolpets — as well as the potions and lotions by Knelow cosmetics next to her. I loved the Hogbot art and seeing my Midsummer Soiree-creating friends as well as the new stuff I’d not yet seen. The illustration-like art of Justin Hillgrove caught my morbid fancy, and the graffiti art in-process impressed me with its immediate, impromptu strength next to the club-like atmosphere of the Bank of America parking lot, where DJs spun and random acts of dance love occurred.
Not so random acts of dance love happened during Daniel Blue’s show, as well, a fun little romp about hot chicks and pirates. And who know that Blue could sing? Or that Oliver Doriss could act? It was exactly the kind of “only in Tacoma” event where music, fashion, dance, and art collided into a beautiful jumble observed by a huge, umbrella-ed crowd as the rain poured down.
That crowd, commanded by Blue to dance, did just that, a community moving as one with a standard poodle in their midst.
And the sun came out.
Of course it was at this point that kid hit critical-surly-mass, after jumping in the bounce house (a big hit!) making a mask with Leah Craven (cool stuff, there!) she decided, at that moment, she was DONE, and we had no choice but to make our way past the beer garden (hi friends, wish I was there!) and the stage where music played and Lulu Spice shook her tasseled hips next to Laura Eklund; their work might not yet be done, but they were enjoying the fruits of their labors.
The rain began again as we drove home, and I waited for the magic moment the sun would emerge again, knowing it would be Tacoma’s Urban Art Festival magic that would make that happen.
So.
A friend of a (virtual) friend of mine was found (really) dead in Ohio.
My friend’s daughter’s best friend, co-worker, and confidante, was a mommy to be, due imminently, a great mommy who loved her big (two year old) boy, and was excited about the future.
She had a wee teeny one in her belly when she was found, lifeless, and the man held in question is a cop, the (married) father of the big guy and the infant in utero.
The 2-year-old talked about mommy being in the rug; he’s a 2-year-old who wants his mommy back.
What does it matter to me, in Tacoma, that a woman in Ohio (and her unborn baby) is dead? I have a wee one who is 5. To imagine having been gone — capital G — when my baby was only 2, makes my heart stop. To know that my (virtual) friend is seriously suffering from this craziness, makes me sad.
To connect the dots, to remember how it feels to be a community in the eye of the media (Brame, That Mall Shooting) — the pain is real.
Weird, and really real.
And really sad.
Peace, out, North Canton. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The MLKBallet recital set to happen today at 2 p.m. will still happen today at 2 p.m., only the location has change.
It’s been relocated to the SOTA Theatre at 1118 Commerce Street.
Come see what the hard workers have accomplished, and catch the energy of Tacoma’s new dance kids in town. — Jessica Corey-Butler
There was some twitching in discomfort at the Mandolin Café Summer Solstice celebration last night when Chiara, our goddess moderator of the evening, told us we’d be holding strangers’ hands and looking deeply into their eyes, being present. For 30 seconds!
It’s wedding season for Chiara, and the time of the honey moon, that golden summer celestial body, for the earth (hence, honeymoon time.) Handfasting being one of the rituals that is, yes, associated with weddings, is also appropriate in this time of disconnection from humanity, as we sit on the Internet and drive in our cars and our only connection is the occasional text message.
So Chiara’s point, to get us to leave the café friends, through a physical, personal connection, was welcome, though I’ll admit to being one of the most visible twitchers present (but a 20-ounce latte will do that to you, I guess).
At the end of it all, I walked away feeling... lighter. There was something about Chiara’s message to slow down, go with the rhythms of the earth, and celestial bodies that gave me permission to let go of some of the rapid-rabbit running I’ve been doing lately.
And there was something about being present with strangers, reaching out and touching them without the fear of being decked, that made me feel connected, even more than the festival-going, interviewing, hanging out with others that I’ve been doing.
There was also something in the music, as well as connecting with friends, that made the evening that much more worthwhile. I ran into John from high school, and his three kids and sweet (and lovely!) wife, who was there supporting her co-worker who was playing with the jazz band Near the Beat jazz trio who entertained us as, and after we supped. They did a wicked cool "Ruby Tuesday" cover!)
I ran into Sonja and her lovely friends Lisa from Russell days, who helped Calla come up with the name “heel!” for that now-closed mecca of fabulousness in downtown Tacoma, as well as her friend Paige who runs the most intriguing-sounding outside exercise program, ever.
Running into former pro tennis player Caroline, whose daughter my wee one had daycare with several years ago, made me catch her intoxicating and contagious wanderlust; her husband’s kind eye-lock was disconcerting at best, though his kind words hit me the same way, I suppose, that my words might have hit others.
Lastly, there was Chiara herself, resplendent in her floral headdress like many others of the staff at the Mandolin; Chiara, though, emanated a sense of warmth, love, and peace, just as she was surrounded by it.
Lovely evening, lovely people, lovely Solstice.
Namaste. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Friday night’s Museum of Glass Night Blow event brought a huge crowd to the museum. This was a great thing for the museum, though there was some grumbling in the resultant lines for tickets, drinks, food, and to get into the cone to view Stephen Rolfe Powell’s impressive team leadership and artwork execution. Watching the final moments of the making of the piece was truly breathtaking, and speaking with Powell I was impressed, too, with his laid back manner and southern charm.
More fun, to see the faces of Daniel Blue, Laura Malone, DJ Broam, spinning classic '70s lounge (hey, was that the theme for 2001 I heard?) DJ Lulu Spice, sweet pea, Chiara, Gretchen, Cheryl, Pete, Denise and Michelle (whose Tempest Lounge signature cocktail truly was divine!), and all manner of other friends and familiar faces gathered with a diverse group of art lovers and MOG supporters.
And then there was the best of times, and the worst of times: my culture babe friend warned me about karaoke, how you think you know a song until you get to the mike and blank out.
Meh, I said, I laugh in the face of danger; then I threw back a shot of Patron.
So there was me feeling no pain. I selected a song I thought the Significant One might appreciate, especially given my state, “Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw.”
I apologize profusely for the crimes against nature I committed Friday night, with my caterwauling.
I don’t apologize for what happened next: culture babe, her husband, the Significant One and I headed off to Masa, to see what the Salsa party would entail. Wisely avoiding the hard stuff, I stuck to Coronas, and had a blast watching the dancers as they showed their stuff.
The music proved just as intoxicating as the Patron I’d earlier consumed, and culture babe and I got out there and shimmied a bit, which even enticed the significant one to join us — shocking, that, since he’s even more shake-it aversive than I am.
Good times must end, and since the Sig One had a date at the KeyArena pick up his Master’s Degree in the morning, we called it a night.
Good glass, good friends, good tunes, good times. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Thursday’s Night on the Town had me and the wee one stopping off to listen to Deborah Page and Paul Uhl at Sanford & Son, ‘pon the recommendations made by trusted advisors Dave and Gretchen (themselves, Sanford merchants.)
I thought I’d just “nip in real quick,” and ended up staying ‘til the lights went out.
Thing was, Deborah’s got an amazing voice (her Spanish songs actually got two bodies on the floor in an impressive show of footmanship) which, along with Paul’s moody guitar and her acoustic guitar, made for an intriguingly warm, inviting vibe.
Together, they sound like the kind of atmosphere you’d expect on Anderson Island: a little bit homey, a little bit wistful, a little bit wild, a little bit natural, and a whole lotta’ lovely. Apropos, since they both met on the island, and now call that their place to “recharge.”
While Deborah’s voice arrested me, it was the overall feeling in the middle floor that kept me there; the evening was a sort of “we survived the fire” celebration combined with the Night on the Town, combined with a celebration of Cindy Sorrell’s graduation from The Evergreen State College (Sorrell runs Sorella’s, with all sorts of North African cultural grooviness).
There was laughter and there were open doors all around (occasionally, the Middle Floor Merchants are a sparsely populated lot, but not this night).
I had some purchasing and future-purchase-planning fun, and the wee one went home delighted with her “Avenging Unicorn” from Mondo Bizarro — at first, I hesitated buying my 5 year old a play set containing an impaling mythical creature, but seeing the mime on the end of the unicorn’s skewer, I had to give in, strictly because my laughter obscured my judgment.
And so it was, that this morning the sweet, innocent child was singing her own music. Asked about the evening, and her high points in it, wee one said she liked seeing Miss Gretchen and Mr Bennett and calling them both “grandpa”. She added that she also loved the music, especially “the lady singing,” saying, “when I grow up, I want to have a voice like her.”
Hopefully, the kid’ll write some new music by then, as this morning’s “Ode to having your guts poked out of you by a Unicorn” might be a little hard for the masses to take. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Jason Van Hoose enjoys a beer at the bar of the Royal, a 70s-type lounge in downtown Olympia. Photography by J.M. Simpson
Bocce Bar?
Yep! But so much more!
Olympia’s The Royal opened last weekend, as noted by the Olympian.
While bocce is cool and all, I think for me the draw to the place has everything to do with features Jennyrose Wright discussed with me. Wright owns Olympia’s room 30, a very groovy place to browse and buy. And now, along with her husband, Josh Brown, and the principal owner, Hezekiah Pugh (“Ky,”) she also plays a part in ownership of the Royal.
What Wright told me about last week as I was in town shopping for a groovy baby gift (and more!) was that the Royal is poised to be a sort of house party where you don’t have to worry about cooking or cleaning, and where you can get drinks like the Fat Elvis and the Farrah Fawcett.
The lounge is a comfortable, easygoing bar with heart, where collaboration and a lot of hard work have created a space filled with repurposed furniture and elements that came together with the help of Habitat for Humanity and Olympia Salvage.
Maybe keeping construction costs down is how they can keep drink costs no higher than other places in town, not to mention offering free bocce and events.
Sounds like I have a reason to go south to have fun! — Jessica Corey-Butler
Babblin’ Babs Bistro and Corina Bakery have a few things in common.
The small spots dish up big flavors, Babblin’ Babs with foodie-friendly, huge flavors in surprising combinations, and Corina Bakery with the most mouth-wateringly fabulous old-school cakes and sweet baked treats.
Both establishments are family owned. William and Shannon Mueller run Babblin’ Babs while also parenting two kids under 6, which is the same situation for Corina Bakery’s Walter and Jessica Gaya.
And both establishments will soon expand, and temporarily close.
Corina Bakery will close down on June 17 for about a week, so that the Gayas can expand the space. The bakery itself will move upstairs, with an expanded downstairs that will potentially include a wheelchair accessible restroom.
Though the Muellers of Babblin’ Babs are working on expanding into the space next door, an exact date that conferences, meetings, and large parties can use the space is unknown, as is exact information on when their liquor license will be approved.
What is known, is that the Muellers will embark on some well-deserved family time off from July 1-14, with some traveling featuring in their plans, in addition to a bistro spruce-up.
While it’ll pain me to give up my berry cheesecake (Corina’s) and lavender latte (Babblin’ Babs) temporarily, at least I won’t have to give ‘em both up, together.
And the after-effects of the closures?
Both good things. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Friends and family. Food and drink. Wine and roses. Beginnings and completions. Bitter and sweet.
Some things naturally go together, and on the lucky days, they all come together.
Case in point, my day.
Friday began with a walk across a stage with pomp and circumstance accenting each step, it involved the Significant One and my mother, who was teary eyed at my accomplishment despite the lack of honor cords around my neck. While it was fun to see all my friends and professors, it made me teary to think that all those experiences I had were relegated to fond memory status.
Even though I’d completed classes and my bachelor’s degree in December, formalizing the completion with the commencement exercises made it all very tangible and real and sad, in an “I did it, I really did it…Now what?” kind of way.
Lunch at Paddy Coyne’s was a great way to connect with my mom and my mate, with an awesome lamb skewer and salad making my tum happy.
After that, picking up the wee one at her new school and introducing my mom around was a fun way to see the cycle begin to perpetuate: my kid is now the daughter of two University graduates, with her daddy crossing a stage to get his master’s next week. To know that that’s her background, to know she’s surrounded by books and a love of things smart: very cool.
The evening was capped off in a perfect way, with a trip to Pairings Fine Wine & Bar for an exquisite Malbec tasting with my old-time good friend Maria, who’s seen me go through my entire school experience and was the ideal person to help me celebrate it. And how fun, to wander into Rebecca V and see Roland and Cheri, and to compare notes on the show (turns out, Roland and I had similar taste as to our favorites.)
Call me a fruity girl: I can take it. I like my wine with fruity flavors, and the Malbecs at Pairings made me happy. Making me happier, the fabulous friendly girls, Jess and Bekka. Bekka was rocking my tasting world when she brought out my next tastes as she noticed I needed them: I’ve never had that experience before, since I’m usually bellyin’ up to the bar for the next taste. Helping, I’m sure, was the rather sparse crowd a the event: I was about to blame this morning’s Sound to Narrows race until we went to Tempest and saw the crowd there.
Bitter+Sweet at Tempest: Lovely Larry’s moving on to Pacific Grill, though Lovely Leslie will take his place and Larry will still be on-call.
Still and all, fun times there, and then a remembered invitation to hang with the gang that got me into the journalism gig to begin with, Prof. Chris and Herr Editor Nick, who along with friend Damien had also commenced. Something called a “touchdown” was purchased for me at Ida’s, and that Red Bull with dunked shot of something did something to my inhibitions — pretty soon I found myself singing Meatloaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” with the Prof, with her singing Meatloaf and me singing, rather pathetically, the woman’s part.
Great, great fun, great, great day. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Tracy Marie took a break from cleaning fire damage today to tell me all about what went down at yesterday’s fire, which impacted Tracy Marie’s Day Spa and some items from Leigh Young’s Gift Gallery (the two share a space), but fortunately not a whole lot else in Sanford & Son. Though there’s water damage, especially on the ground floor, the fact that the building remains standing is a testament to Tracy Marie’s amateur firefighting skills and the Middle Floor Merchants’ ability to work together.
“There was a candle, I thought I blew it out, I went to get coffee chatted with Jen (from Country Girl Gardens)… we noticed water and then smoke coming out of my room…”
Tracy Marie said Jen quickly grabbed a large fire extinguisher, and Tracy Marie got to work; Jen grabbed a second fire extinguisher and Tracy Marie emptied that one as well.
About ten minutes later, “some guy made me leave, I’m not sure who he was… Maybe some fire chaplain guy?”
While the water main bursting potentially helped staunch the spread of the fire, the flames were starting to burn all the wood above the water main, where the smoke was seen coming through, and that area was beginning to burn quickly.
“Yeah the water main broke, but that’s not was put out the fire… I put it out!”
For that bravery, Tracy Marie was awarded a stay at the hospital for breathing treatments and spent the rest of the evening in the care of her mother, as she has asthma and needed monitoring.
As for the rest of the gang at the Middle Floor Merchants, it was business as usual, with an evening of shock and cleaning ending out their busy day.
I’m thinking that probably my own candle use is going to change a bit: yes, kids, those innocent looking air-improvers really can wreak havoc on a space. — Jessica Corey-Butler
There will be happy Thursday nights ahead for me, if last night was any indication of how things may be.
At the South Sound Garage, Aaron Mack was spinning the new wave, dark wave Vogue- underground-nightclub-inspired best of my era, with the buoyant sounds of the likes of Eurythmics (as buoyant as they were) and Depeche Mode keeping my head boppin’ and my smile pasted on my face, along other songs that I remembered but didn’t remember I remembered, and songs I had yet to remember I remembered.
Starting out slowly and quietly (as many as eight subwoofers can be quiet) with more tumbleweeds than people, the evening picked up with an infusion of Puget Sound Pizza staff, at first, and more devoted friends and fans as the evening progressed.
The vibe was mellow and upbeat — can the two coexist? you wonder? Oh, yes they can, I emphatically answer — with the drinks, divine: my own new favorite take on the old classic I drank back in my last '80s-dancing days, the “vodka tonic.” Today’s version: the Effen tonic, with vodka so smooth you can use it in place of lubrication.
Upping the ante on that classic, the Effen X-Rated, with the same lethally smooth vodka mixed with X-Rated Passion Fruit Vodka and 7-Up; it went down so well I could see it being a standby red-wine standby for me, and I could feel it work its magic on my joints with the music — I very nearly got out there and shook my groove thing in public.
Next week? I may very well be there in the middle of the vast floor.
Or I may hide on my bar stool, smiling as I sip and bop, recalling the days when hair was big and music was better. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Some days in Tacoma just make you smile.
Sunshine, bright flowers in the Proctor Farmer’s Market with familiar faces milling about, flower and garden shows, restaurants opening garage windows to bring the outside in and let the inside spill out and seating on sidewalks, tattoo shows, antique and garage sale shopping in University Place an Fircrest, respectively, and did I mention, sunshine?
Add to that, excitement, and upcoming heat: the Rebecca V show last night featuring Tony V’s collection of vintage nude slides, in their full giclee-print-on-canvas glory, has to be about the coolest thing I’ve seen in a long time. Yeah, I’ve even purchased one (walk on through and guess which one that is!)
Add complimentary wine tasting from Pairings, and you had an evening worthy of the kind of day we had (and still having today!).
Ahhh, bliss… — Jessica Corey-Butler
When I first met Josephine and Paul Zmolek, they had a "Masks of Thespis" art display up at their Barefoot Studios, and I felt an itching need to get on their stage and learn something about movement; I yearned to be “in” my body, and their studio seemed to be my ticket to greater self-awareness.
But I have a nuts life, and it got in the way of my following through on my urge.
I might have missed my chance to learn with two amazing, enigmatic teachers, though I hope I’m wrong.
At last night’s "10x10," a varied assortment of performers hit the stage, from two strong and expressive dancers, Katherine M. Stricker and Stephanie Kriege, joined by Jeanne Douville in one of piece, to the never-say-quit (despite the CD skips) 7 to 12- and 12 to 17-year-old performers from the D.A.S.H. Center for the Arts, to the mime-ist dancing/acting stylings of Jamie Pederson, with help in conception and direction from Ron Gilbert, who also produced and directed some quirky, riveting, experimental, moving film for the night.
I stood by a window and the breeze carried occasional train sounds in with the cool on the back of my neck. It was a peaceful, intimate, engaging, thoroughly pleasant (though that word seems so weak) evening, capped off with insightful and thoughtful conversation intended to help provide feedback to artists work-shopping pieces.
Yeah, it was all idyllic and perfect, except that the last, peppy little piece, conceived by Klair Ethridge, written directed, and performed by “many people” (per the program), a fun peek at a dance studio, with some spoken word by Ethridge and ending on a familiar "Sound of Music" song.
So Long? Farewell?
My heart jumped in confusion.
As each performer stood in line and expressed words of gratitude to the Zmoleks, and Barefoot Studios, I felt something akin to a rising hysteria.
What? So Long? Farewell???
With a sad smile that conveyed warmth and soul as only Josephine can manage, she told me, “we don’t know.”
She continued to tell me, “it’s been a rough year.”
Over a year ago, in April, a bus crashed through the office, then Dome District construction began, and then the landlords approached the Zmoleks with a 50 percent rent increase, and implied that at any moment, the Zmoleks may get their 30-day notice.
So classes have been interrupted, and the Barefoot Studios, and "10x10," may be on the endangered list. Will the Zmoleks leave Tacoma? Will they continue Barefoot in another location?
All Josephine could tell me with her sad smile was, “We don’t know.”
Before I heard the familiar, “So Long” song, I remember standing back with a profound sense of peace, feeling like this space in Tacoma was just as it should be, with the bright walls painted creatively with care; with the huge scarves that hang like banners, colorfully flirting with the mayhem outside the doors of the studio, working their diagonal design against the horizontal of the building seen out the windows.
In her words to the Zmoleks, Kriege said, “a building serves as a vehicle for a community.”
In this building, the Zmoleks have served up Beauty, Joy, Integrity, and Kindness, per one performer, and have been like the best kind of warm pie that makes ice cream perfectly melty, as Pederson analogized.
So now what?
I keep hearing Josephine’s “we don’t know.”
And it makes me profoundly sad. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I did the rare, this evening: I watered my front garden.
That’s how inspired I was, after seeing the dream backyards at the Point Defiance Flower and Garden Show. Since my back yard is sort of beyond hope, as the pups have their own version of gardening which includes search and destroy, (a wise master gardener, seeing my challenges, suggested I plant concertina wire if I wanted something “dog proof”) I decided the front will be my last hope.
And the garden show gave me ideas, could have sold me masses of plants from some very cool vendors, and firmed my resolve to not let the front go to hell.
Arriving at lunchtime, I was surprised at how busy it already was, and how many people were leaving, done with their garden day of fun by the time we arrived. But I guess, with gardening as well as aviary life, the early bird gets the worm.
I was also surprised, the lines to the coffee and food (gasp!!) were crazy long.
Hence, the wee one and I didn’t stop for food, and hence, the wee one’s complaints reached a crescendo by the time we reached the tents with craftspeople.
Apparently, she was so hungry her leg hurt. So we had to high-tail it out of there, with her 45 pound body on my hip, up to where we had to park in Ruston (grrr.) (I would have walked, from home, but I knew the wee one’d complain, and we’d have had to walk a mile, both ways, uphill on the way home.)
At any rate, our brief time at the garden show made me happy; seeing the park I know and love transformed into inspirational outdoor spaces, and seeing so many people appreciating it all was well worth the pain in my back after we reached the car.
And that’s saying a lot. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Point Defiance Flower & Garden Show, Saturday, June 2 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., Sunday, June 3 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., $15, children 12 and younger free with adult, Point Defiance Park, 5400 N. Pearl, Tacoma]
Tacoma seems to often be that “also ran,” that “little sister,” that “gritty” individual.
Time for the also ran gritty little sister to band together to pop one of her own into the national limelight!
Actually, Brooke Bennett has done a reasonable job of boosting herself up into the limelight. Working hard as a fashionista design diva via urbanXchange employment, she’s achieved a place in a Teen Vogue competition among two other stylist wanna-be gals, one of whom is beating her in votes (gasp!) though Brooke was in the lead only a couple of days ago.
We can’t let that happen.
Get your teenaged daughters, friends, nieces, and alter-egos to vote for Miss Brooke, and give that girl a place in the stylist spotlight: winner gets to go to New York to style a band for a photo shoot, and gain some valuable experience for future fashionista-ness.
Just go to www.teenvoguepromo.com. When you get to the page there is a slide show of the current promotions. When you get to "style that rocks" (the third one), then click on it, at which point you’ll be asked for your birth date which will take you to the page to vote. Click on Brooke, then look at the tabulated response, then get all the people you know to do the same! — Jessica Corey-Butler
At the Centennial of Point Defiance Park, the Point Defiance Home and Garden Show debuted. While it was “originally designed to be a one-time event,” according to Marcy Frlan, co-chairing the event this year with Natalie Findlay, it was so successful it was held again last year, and will be again, this year, on June 1, 2 and 3, from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., except for Sunday, when it closes at 5 p.m.
While I thought the opening night preview, with its “fabulous '50s-style classy cookout” sounded like a hoot, that “Go Retro” event is by invitation only (I was not invited, sob) I guess I’ll have to settle happily for all the fun and games of the rest of the event.
But how to choose? With highlights like Display Gardens, a Children’s Pavillion, various types of contained gardens and design ideas, Afternoon Teas, a lecture series, food court, arts and crafts, plants, and community growers showing off goods for sale, not to mention the wine and beer garden, I suspect by the time I get there I’ll be that butterfly, flitting about from point to point, landing on occasion when a sight, smell, or taste strikes my fancy.
And since it’s walking distance from my home, I can call it community fun in the name of nature-meets-exercise.
I can’t wait! — Jessica Corey-Butler
On the significant one’s first full day home, I had grand plans for a grown-up program for the two of us that included culture, potentially an early cocktail or two, and some time “hangin’ around the house,” ahem.
My plans were squashed by a kid and her daddy, both of whom had grand plans for a hookie day hanging out together doing the sorts of things all 5 year olds long to do with daddies, and that daddies long to take part of.
At the point at which Chuck E Cheese was mentioned — despite the fact that I could have considered the venue culture and an early cocktail (er, beer), I took the coward’s way out and said, “erm, sorry, I have to go to the museum to check out the new show, for work.”
So it came to pass, that I passed my afternoon in the Tacoma Art Museum, alone in the galleries (I think two other people might have wandered through as I browsed, though they could have been apparitions.)
I love shows that stun you with newness and hipness, yet contain an abundance of smart. Therefore, I loved “Sparkle and Fade,” but I have to admit there were moments that had me going, “guh?”
The main guh?, for me, was helped along by the gumball machine full of meds in close proximity: the assume vivid astro focus film loop “Pills and Cigarettes,” and “Freebird,” with its sort of "Yellow Submarine"-esque aesthetic had me scratching my head while longing for a teeny piece of paper to lick (perhaps then, I’d “get it,”) all the while sucking me in, and leaving me feeling discombobulated and sort of… altered.
Another “guh?,” the mirrored non-room, Kathryn Van Dyke’s “Knowing You, Knowing Me” had me feeling headachey and fractured, though reading that the intent of the piece was to do just that (or at least make me draw correlations with the piece, and the many pieces of my psyche) made me feel appeased.
Other works made me nod, smile, and appreciate them, like Jeffrey Simmons’ “Amass” and “Flux,” as well as Verena Sieber Fuchs’ “Toxicomanie (Drug Addiction)”, a lei made of the blister packaging of drugs; Marc Swanson’s “Fits and Starts” deer made me happy, the same way Oliver Herring’s “Big Round Flat” made me sad — it was fleeting beauty, caught in a moment, it was work to create the beauty, and it was appreciated.
And then, my “A HA!” moments, the moments with the pieces that spoke to me and my experience in this moment in time.
Andy Warhol’s “Myths” delighted me; to have this juxtaposition of Warhol portraits ranging from the Wicked Witch, to Santa Claus, to Uncle Sam, to Howdy Doody, which so fits my feelings about certain political happenings in the world, all tied in to the theme of myth — ahhhhh. Add sparkle? Aaaaaahhhhh.
Capturing the same note of the sublimely screwed up, Alice Wheeler’s photograph of pageantry gone horribly awry in “Rhinestones and Machine Guns” tickled me uncomfortably; to note it was in Tacoma, to note it was only a year ago. Ooooooh.
Lastly, and I suspect the reason I cut my visit to the museum shorter than I’d ordinarily have done, James Rosenquist’s “Gift Wrapped Doll #14,” a large oil on canvas that brought to mind the state of my wee one’s toys, with their semi-obscured beauty and purity, skewed by packaging now that replicate bondage or some bizarre death ritual (have you tried to unwrap any craptacular kid toys lately? If you thought CDs were rough, go ahead, buy a Barbie: I dare you.)
Reading the painting “symbolizes his hopes and fears for his daughter’s future,” I recognized the deep down gut twank that meant the painting affected me the same way, and I recognized that I needed to spend family time as a unit, whether I liked what the unit was choosing to do or not.
And I had a fabulous day, watching my man teach our daughter how to ride a bike on two wheels, and playing Go Fish as a threesome, hearing our kid call us “Shawn, and Jess” as she selected which of us to choose a card from, and hearing her glee-filled giggles pierce the air as she won yet another game (why yes, we sort of helped, but we couldn’t help but, since she had all her cards turned up, blithely believing we’d do as she said when she said, “OK now. Don’t look!”)
Like some museum shows, some days just sparkle with luminescence; they live in memories, but flee as the next life event draws attention to a different course.
Mmmmmmm. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I was tired by the time I arrived at the 100th Monkey Party. I had had a long, full day, complete with early morning wake-up to get the house — and laundry — ready for the Significant One’s imminent return, some last minute deadline stuff, a trip into the office for some more stuff that helps me earn my paycheck, a trip in to Vin Grotto to meet the smart and fun Rock Zombie gang (and get the sacrificial Monkey wine), a trip in to Corina Bakery to pick up a welcome home “Mow the Grass” carrot cake, a trip back home to let puppy boys get some relief and to feed them — only to discover they’re out of food, and so then, to cook for them, a trip to the mother in law’s to hang out with me sweet though sad kid, and to bring sweet though sad kid PJs and her partially disemboweled Squishy, a stuffed dog Bill tried to kill that grandma said she would mend, and then, finally, a trip to Bamford and Bamford Pottery where said 100th Monkey Party was held.
I was tired, by the time I arrived, but then the excitement of a Monkey Party, and the energy and open welcome of my friends there acted like a triple shot Venti latte.
The venue was awesome for the event, with beauty and (clay) art surrounding us, and more art and garden inspiration outside. Organizer Sue Pivetta reported that right around 300 people showed up, and yet the space felt open and the music (awesomely spun, and later played live, with a middle-eastern flair when the belly dancer appeared) was loud enough to be heard through the entire space, and the set-up at the wine counter was well-organized, though I heard the odd grumbling about the two-cup maximum. For me, it worked out well, since I had pictures and notes to take (tasks made more difficult, when spilling wine) and an airport to drive to after 11. It also seemed to work out well in the long run, with less congestion in the hooch line overall, and an apparent better flow of people throughout the venue.
I thought, as first I recapped the evening for myself, that I didn’t meet the requisite three new people for all the reconnecting I was doing with established friends I hadn’t seen in a while. But then I remembered that I had, and as the evening took my car (and me driving it) to the Tempest Lounge after-gathering, I met even more.
The thing about this 100th Monkey Party that made me so happy was that it felt like the first Monkey Parties I had been to — as intimate as you wanted it to be for conversation and re-connection, yet as social as you wanted it to be.
Sue Pivetta’s done a great job of reinventing the groundwork for the party each time it comes around, with the 100th Monkey herself for this event — the awesomely cutely expectant Johanna Gardner — organizing a hella-good time. The next Monkey, picked out by the lucky tile (created by Houston Wimberly, each very different and very cool looking) was shrouded in secrecy (or confusion,) while the next venue could possibly be the outside of the Tacoma Art Museum.
And it looks like the Monkey Parties are sprouting wings and flying beyond Tacoma — news spread yesterday that Sean Starr, formerly of Tacoma, moved to California and brought the idea to Big Bear, a sleepy SoCal mountain town.
Today Tacoma, tomorrow the world.
How fun is that? — Jessica Corey-Butler
There were more legal-types than literary types at Tacoma’s downtown Public Library Thursday evening when Mark Lindquist read from, and signed, his latest novel, “The King of Methlehem.”
One prominent figure in the book, Judge Sorenson, who was also a recurring character in Lindquist’s book “Nevermind Nirvana,” himself showed up, in the bereted, sunglasses-wearing, bongo-drumming flesh.
This gentleman was actually deputy prosecuting attorney Phillip Sorenson, and did a fine job of impromptu beatnik-ing as Lindquist read from three chapters in his book.
The novel delves entertainingly into Lindqust’s world of legal expertise from the standpoint of the detective protagonist and his “quarry,” a meth cook who dubs himself “The King of Methlehem,” as well as the aliases Howard Schultz, Lars Ulrich, and Ted Nugent.
Lindquist comes by the subject matter of the book honestly: in his “day job” Lindquist is the trial team chief of the drug unit for the Pierce County Prosecuting Attorney.
“I don’t watch TV, and I don’t sleep — that’s how I get both things done,” Lindquist quipped.
In "The King of Methlehem," issues particular to Pierce County figure prominently like the “Crime Warp” phenomenon dubbed by prosecutor Gerry Horne (where criminals set up home base in Tacoma after their sentences, when halfway houses lead them here), and the moment in time where Tacoma sits as the next gritty metropolis after Nirvana and Grunge faded away—while a literary theme is established early on — Moby Dick has a special place carved out for the protagonist’s own hash-stash, even while he, like Ahab, seeks out his own great white whale, Howard Schultz.
Thing is, as you read the novel, you don’t think about high-falutin’ legal thoughts, or grandiose literary concepts. If you’re like me, you just turn the pages, one after another, sucking in the setting, the action, and the personalities as they develop, foregoing sleep as you do so.
And want more.
Remind you of anything?
Lindquist will read and discuss "The King of Methlehem" in Tacoma June 14 at King's Books. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I fell asleep with the wee one in her bed last night, snuggling as we listened to a CD of "Barbie Movie" songs. I woke up multiple times through the night, hacking up bits of lung, occasionally going into the kitchen to drink OJ straight from the carton, wincing as the acid burned my sore throat.
By 4 a.m., I was almost ready to give up the sleep attempts, then when the dogs asked to be let out at 5, and then when the wee one herself woke up at 6, I knew I’d chalk my night up to “crappy sleep night.”
What I didn’t expect was “Crappy Mother’s Day Eve,” with my daughter puking not once, but four times, once in the aisles of Target as we attempted to get her medicine for her aching head.
I didn’t expect that I’d break out in hives as I shopped for mothers day gifts, I didn’t expect that I’d run out of gas — in the mower and in the cans — midway through mowing the lawn, nor did I expect that bastard gerbil would draw blood from sick kid’s finger as I mopped the kitchen floor.
By rights, I should have the loveliest time, ever, tonight at the Pacific Grill’s Taste, because dammit all, I deserve to.
But will I feel like a winner of the crappy mom award for leaving my sick kid with her grandma, while simultaneously winning the crappy daughter-in-law award for the same reason? — Jessica Corey-Butler
The Rialto Theatre was pretty close to packed last night as a crowd assembled to watch the fruits of 72 hours of labor by over 30 teams of individuals.
These teams accepted the challenge of creating a short film — no longer than five minutes total running time — in 72 hours, containing certain parameters.
The finished short film was to contain a Tacoma Landmark, something being thrown, tossed, or dropped, the line of dialog “What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate,” and a hat or cap as a prop.
Films were created by young teams — a group from Annie Wright School received the hastily assembled “youth film” award for their funny and intriguing look at OCD — and more experienced teams. There were existentialist films, German, French, noir, zombie, action, documentary, scary, grim and laugh out loud hilarious films.
Through all 33 films at the 72-Hour Film Competition, there were themes that resurfaced, like, “Tacoma as a violent city,” “Tacomans as carriers of hip flasks (and guns),” “Tacomans as smokers,” and yes, here it is, “Tacoma as a gritty city.”
It’s impossible to say which was my favorite. I loved that "Euphoria" reminded me of my UWT student days (as did "The Applicant," in terms of setting and angst.) I loved that "South 5" examined the “Tacoma is violent” question and came up with a brilliant proposal as to why that is. I loved "The Tower" for its awesome use of the Museum of Glass as a backdrop, along with their use of the hat as the prop. I loved "Vinny Vegas" for its use of the B&I as a Tacoma Landmark, as well as the use of the Java Jive toilets as a setting. I loved the story developments in "Black and White," "Letchworth Road," "Fries That Bind," "$5 Watch," "The Woodsmen are Dead," and "Our Movie."
I adored the filming of the movie "The Knitters," "Obituaries," and "Excruciating Eyeball" with its monkey in a pope’s hat and dancing (sniff…sniff… is that Bauhaus I smell? Or is it Dada?) and German language had me cackling (and coughing) like a fiend.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to judge the best film (I won’t tell you what I had marked on my ballot) because apparently, the real judges had the same problems with calling one “best” that I did — the first vote, all five judges had picked a different film.
In the end, the judges chose one of my favorite movies, "The Knitters," for Best Use of Dialogue. "Tintinnabulation" was picked for both Best Use of Location (First Pres. bell tower where the protagonist proposes) as well as Best Use of Action (the ring gets flung as the bell rings, surprising the propose-er before he can get the words out.)
Best Use of a Prop was "The Tower," where we wonder — is the man ill, or does the hat have magical powers, for real?
Ultimately, the judges’ collaborated pick for the best film was "Letchworth Road," while the audience favorite — also a close race — was "South 5."
If you missed the Rialto showing, Click! Network Channel 1 will be showing the film for only one week starting May 16, and The Grand Cinema had a DVD of all the films that they were selling in the lobby. You could probably beg the Grand to either sell you one, or to show the films again. Marty Campbell told me he was buying one for Stadium Video. You may be able to beat the crowd and rent it there. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The Dockyard Derby Dames put on one of the best shows of entertaining athleticism I’ve seen in the last … well, forever Saturday night at the Tacoma Soccer Center. These women are real, they rock, they have heart, and they skate like they live, with energy and vivacity and a bit or Rawr for good measure. It’s the ticket to buy, as far as I’m concerned, whether you’re high-brow, monster-truckin’, perverse, or hipster. Certainly the packed-house crowd reflected that, with little kids running amongst an old woman with a walker, and all ages and types in between, who watched assorted cool fishnets, cleavage, and butt-cheeks and blended them in with a little bit of “Oh My God She’s Holding Her DOWN!”
Hot action by dames like Vorpal Bunny, Ollie Oxen, Dandy Rough, Skate Pauli Girl, and especially Cookies and MILF (skate number OU812) made the laps fly fast despite the brutal track condition (soft and giving isn’t so great when you’re trying to build up speed) and the apparent fatigue on the skaters faces as the jams elapsed.
I especially, especially, especially (really, even!) loved the Rat City turnout: here was a large contingent of the nation’s best derby-ers showing up to give props to league newbies in a demonstration of cross-city collaboration that warmed my heart.
The Trampires ended up sinking The Marauding Mollies, rum and all, by one point (89 to 88) in overtime( Mad Madge, regional Ref coordinator, was excited by this even as the commentator ran laps in his excitement.
According to Madge, who has reffed for three years and has been in three tournaments, said she’d never seen an overtime, “Overtime, Oh my God,” she fairly gushed in excitement after the bout.
The Hellbound Homewreckers beat out the Femmes (Femme Fianna) without an overtime (I think the score ended up something like 98 to 60, but I’m not sure.) While Cruel Brittania of the Union Jack Underpants proved to be truly intense, and Blonde Amazon and Ria Rangerface, showed their might, standout performances by Janesaw Massacre, Slim Finnegan, and Ghetto Heart showed that the numbers don’t necessarily reflect the way the season will go.
At the post derby O’Malley’s Cinco de Drinko fest, the Seattle contingent showed up alongside Trampires, Marauders, Homewreckers and Femmes, and it was heartening to see all the intermingling and love between all the ladies. Yo Pabst Blue Ribbon — if you’re reading this, you need to endorse this league, as they are among some of the best advertising assets you might have.
Commentator Nathaniel, whose enthusiasm for the event — and especially how T-Town does Derby — shone through as he did a post-bout recap; he got especially excited as he recounted Janesaw against Blonde Amazon, saying, “Watch those girls, they’re going to raise the level, raise the bar.” He also gave props to Cookies and Milk and Slim Finnegan, noting these “Janes of all trades” have “the total package.”
But he also was fast to mention the league’s “stand-out blocking,” saying, “for the first season, we were not expecting it.”
For myself, neophyte derby enthusiast as I am, I was not expecting the tangible stoke of the evening. The raw emotions heated up in the ring, and the love afterward kept the warmth going, while the Pabst just made everything right with the world. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I had to pre-funk the cinco on quarto de Mayo to check out the Masa festivities, and found myself sipping a divine caddy marg, nibbling chips with quite possibly the tastiest, chunkiest guac, ever, in addition to a crema fresca laden bean dip that rocked my world.
Going to Masa on Saturday, I opted for the Sangria (noting I was in for a long night, and noting, too, once tequila, keep tequila) and found myself running into a festively hot Natasha with a tan to kill for and flowers in her hair, Ole! (and her Betsy dress rocked the fiesta.)
Naturally, we got to chatting about Carmen, the beaches, and how good home feels (even after sand in your toes) and then checked out the deck. Brrr, in early may with a brisk wind, but a decent crowd was already assembled with sunglasses and drinkie-poos.
I had a quick RockStar (apropos, as to the company I was keeping,) and darted off for derby, sad I couldn’t stay for the true heat of the conco action.
Can’t wait to see what Natasha has to say about what transpired after I left. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Frequently, fashion shows are all about, well, fashion.
The way the Point Defiance Zoo Society did it for the Fashion Tea Saturday at the Emerald Queen Casino, the subjects were fun and fashion, with the addendum to read “fund-raising.”
High points were plenty, from the Tom Jones opener “What’s New Pussycat” reinforcing the Purrrrfect theme, with a Tom Jones who looked suspiciously like Jack Black. In a good way, as I dig JB and thing Tom is oogie.
More high points: the cake auction, with hot men in tuxes tempting the audience with dessert decadence. Perhaps it was the heat of the men that drove bidding frenzy to over $300 for several cakes, which did indeed sound dreamy, especially when paired with a hot, topless man to serve it — but it was interesting to me that while cakes were hot, a few of the auctioned trips sold less quickly, despite the valiant attempts by Larry Stokes.
Stokes did manage to gain the Zoo at least $1,000 through two bidding splits, where the two highest bidders both won prizes.
I was teary-eyed by the generosity of many, when contributions were solicited to fund such things as school tours, walrus feedings, and outdoor ed programs, and I was awed to be in the presence of people so committed to helping sustain such an entity as the zoo, which brings so many great things to Tacoma.
As the event closed, though, I was stoked to see my boutiquin’ homies all representin’ for the 253, from Dame Lola (I suspect the Nordstrom intro was erroneously placed before the lovely lantern-sleeved Miguelina blouse, yellow dress, and tunic top that I recognized from the shop, whereas I did not recognize the evening gowns shown under the shop’s name) — to the hot styles from Red Line, Rocky & Coco’s, Tiki Lounge, Cake, Bloom, and other local shops that brought heat wrapped in style to the runway.
And as the grand finale?
How fun to see Rusty George, whose company designed the event’s graphics, himself (attired beguilingly in a fabulous bridal gown courtesy of the Wedding Bell) with his incendiary fiancée, attired beguilingly in a tux.
Rad, is all I can say. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Immediately after the Ten Tiny Dances, I had to go home.
Which bummed me out: I wanted to check out the last installment of Kulture Lab, I wanted to hang with artists at Tempest Lounge, I wanted to continue the energy I enjoyed as the Portland entity that was Ten Tiny Dances poured their creative souls out on stage.
But I had a kid who expected mom to put her to bed, after declining to accompany me to see the dances.
En route to the mother in law’s house, I saw signs of life at the Rebecca V Gallery, and Pairings.
Nosy by nature (and suspecting a bottle of nice wine might be a welcome thing) I stopped in.
Holy cow.
Mauricio Diaz’ work is crazy-cool. He uses an architect’s training and eye to render canvases of color and vitality — painted primarily with palette knife, occasionally utilizing corrugated board to great textural advantage — that bring to mind artists like Van Gogh and Monet, if said artists were to have chosen palettes of vibrant secondary colors with more perspective, less “landscape.”
I loved chatting with Kelly, Tony V, and Mark, and I especially loved the kismet meeting of Heidi, Portland gallery chica, who had no clue that a totally different kind of Portland Arts gig was happening just up the street from where she was.
It made me walk away smiling, knowing that connectedness really is alive and well. We aren’t just our own little microcosm of coolness: it’s spreading.
And that’s hot. — Jessica Corey-Butler
There was a surprise eleventh act when the Ten Tiny Dances hit the (tiny, natch!) stage at Jazzbones on Saturday.
Kate Monthy of MLK Ballet and Mary Mabry of the Tacoma Dance Collective matched like physiques and physical skill together to bring a black and white, white and black extension of one-ness to the (diminutive) stage; this happened a little past midway through an evening where tap and sax, tantric sex, working class love by the train tracks, and relationships in a media age (with afro wig!) were explored, alongside themes of collaboration and communication.
I particularly liked that my seat was, thanks to the KAke and Ms. Jennifer Johnson, Jazzbones GM extraordinaire, kick-ass and front row.
There, I could focus on the feet.
No, really.
Alexa Folsom-Hill mentioned “the Life of a Dancer” at the last MOVE!, and I’ve been pondering the point.
Talking to Mike Barber, Portland-ite and founder of Ten Tiny Dances, the point came closer to home: en route to Tacoma, the group had a vehicle break down, and they had to deal with rental car hassles, stress, and mayhem.
They persevered, to bring their version of accessible dance to out fine town, and eventually arrived.
And then, driving the “life of a dancer” point home with a hammer, the Ten Tiny Dances showed bare-footed dancing in all it’s calloused, bent-toed, strong glory. These feet stretch, reach, and express the way many of us would like our bodies and faces to, while showing that the road to becoming strong and expressive is not a smooth one.
On a big stage, en pointe, you never get a chance to see the true story.
In the round, on a four foot stage, where dialogue and music meld intriguingly with a discipline that’s frequently airbrushed, the stories unfold in intimate, intriguing, affecting ways.
And it’s a world-rocking thing. — Jessica Corey-Butler
OK, so technically, Frida Kahlo’s birthday is later in the summer.
Since the whole premise of the Tacoma Art Museum party Friday was “Shhh…It’s a surprise!” the technicalities can safely be thrown out the window.
Which is the best place for them, since the evening wasn’t about technicalities, but about celebration in the name of Kahlo.
What I love about celebrations at the Tacoma Art Museum, is that they’re invariably well-planned, well-executed, well-attended, and fun. And then, throw in the educational and cultural benefits, throw in the inclusion clause (all are welcome) and you have the kind of trifecta of good that makes me tingle all over and want more.
Friday’s event brought fun to the forefront, with the bed-racing shenanigans (think loosely of the term “bed”—I saw a shopping cart, catering trolley, and bicycle cleverly masqueraded as beds, to great effect!) starting the night off, and the music, art, cupcakes, and fun folks keeping the good vibes flowing.
I loved, most of all, creating a Frida pin with the wee one. I wielded a brush and glue stick, she wielded a brush and glue stick, and the people all around us committed –and were committed to committing—art that honored what we felt to be the essence of the images and knowledge we had taken in.
We all focused on small-scale enhancements to pop the images of the woman who’d suffered so much, who would have been 100 soon.
If I said it was super duper cool, I’d be understating the mojo.
Bravo, TAM! — Jessica corey-Butler
While it looks like the purveyors of one of our esteemed art parties is fading from the scene, another is busily at work creating their next coup.
I met up with the “Bitches that brought you Eyefull” (Leah told me to say that) and had a fun afternoon of photos and conversation. Sounds like the MidSummer Soiree, which will come toward the end of July, will be another “don’t you dare miss it,” with an earthy-esoteric-exotic theme that includes at least one flight of Cirque du soleil-like flight (ahem, it’s a pun) of fancy.
Trust me on this, it’s going to be hella-cool.
Details will come your way as they become concrete. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Break out that hat, beaded purse and hankie: the Point Defiance Zoo Society will present their ninth Fashion Tea on Saturday, April 28, at 1 p.m. at the Emerald Queen I-5 Showroom.
While originally created as a showcase of formal fashions suitable for wearing to July’s Zoobilee, the event has evolved.
“We started adding in the casual flair just a few years ago,” explains Christine Roha, the Zoobilee manager who also has worked with producing the fashion show.
The “casual flair” this year will come from some of our favorite local boutiques — Dame Lola, Rocky and Coco’s, Sonja Clothing for Women, Tiki Lounge, Red Line, and Envy — as well as from Nordstrom, among others.
The models, diverse in age, shape, body, and skin color, are community members who will wear the clothes the day of the event.
Fashion is only a portion of the afternoon — live and silent auctions, entertainment, and a mysterious must-see guest appearance will also feature.
And while hats have been a hallmark of the “high tea” 21-and-over event, they’re not a necessity, nor are the hankie and beaded bag. Semi-formal attire is recommended, though.
The $45 general admission will benefit the Zoo Society. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Emerald Queen I-5 Showroom, 2024 E. 29th St., Tacoma, 253.404.3633]
Recognizing my yard was just one rusted out refrigerator and primer-ed Camaro on cinder blocks away from being That Yard on the block, I decided to start my Earth Day with the wee one by being a good steward of my own little patch of the planet.
We mowed, we weeded, we picked up trash, we recycled, we used organic fertilizer, and then we prepared to go to the Zoo, where a slew of events was scheduled to bring to light those things that we can do to make our planet a better place to live.
As it turned out, Point Defiance Zoo & Aquarium had the same idea as we did, with the underlying message that saving the planet starts at home, with easy tasks.
We pledged to change out our next dead light bulb with an energy saving fluorescent one, we made a Toad Abode, we saw how salmon can be helped up streams (and I relearned about the impact of household poisons on the Sound) and we planted a pea and a bean, to help create healthy oxygen (and food).
The whole global warming, ozone hole thing is scary and overwhelming to me, I have to admit. Mostly, I like to bury my head in minutiae and act as if it’s not happening.
But with the help of events like Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium’s Earth Day, I can reinforce the little things that we can do, and do them.
Every little bit, multiplied, makes a big difference. — Jessica Corey-Butler
A Cook’s Tour offered me a taste of a few of the things I love most: fabulous Tacoma architecture, great design, innovative decorating, and food, food food. Thank you Junior League of Tacoma for such a fabulous event.
The tastes offered at each north Tacoma stop of the way weren’t enough to blow the diet, but they were enough to get a a feel for each of the eateries showcased.
Howie from the Pour at Four proved the closest thing to a Food Network chef, with a staged plate of lobster and caramelized onion ready and waiting in the stove; he encouraged us with the words, “a recipe is always a guideline, never a rule.”
Architecturally, all the homes were equally impressive for their own reasons. The McGovern Home was Hollywood-famous for being the home of Julia Stiles in “10 Things I Hate About You.” Added to that, the house itself was stunning, with woodwork to die for and a diining table set up with classic decadence which included loads of white roses.
In the Pascoe house everything flowed, with a color scheme, white cabinetry set about three inches higher than standard, killer appliances, and a magnetic end-unit that I coveted.
The Brenner house impressed me mightily with its savvy use of space. Also impressive was the south of the border by the sea table décor that juxtaposed succulents, rice, and robins-egg-blue seersucker to a very effective end; coupled with the ceviche from Masa, I was ready for the tequila, but it was time to move to the next stop.
The Heilesen home, with its gambrel-roof architecture and traditional décor, showed off an amazing redesign and remodel by MRF Construction; in this home the kitchen was completely remodeled and enlarged, leaving intact the original, fabulously ornate radiators that had been stripped and powder coated to great affect—the use of red on the walls popped the white cabinetry and added up-to-the-minute warmth.
Lastly, we arrived at the Fast home, where the homeowners also happen to be the contractors of the home, and the owners of MRF Construction, Inc.
I loved the kitchen, loved the remodel, loved Gayle Orth’s Chocolate Decadence, loved the Pro Secco from Vin Infusion (ooooh,, a wine bar that delivers — how cool is that?!) loved the reading space by the view, loved the tablescaping with touches of radish and artichoke — there wasn’t anything about this house I didn’t love — but mostly, I was caffeine-buzzed about the chalk/magnetboard hanging on the wall.
Turns out, it wasn’t super-custom — it was Pottery Barn that they built around. But Carolin Fast, design-savvy homeowner, told me how to make my own, with 3 to 4 coats of magnetic paint and chalkboard paint. Tomorrow, you’ll see me at a paint store. My kitchen can’t wait.
The individuals in the van with me had their own reasons for coming: one woman had just purchased a home and was gleaning ideas for a potential remodel, while another was in the midst of a remodel, and yet another was an interior design student interested in getting into staging homes.
We all walked away inspired and impressed, and pleased that we gained all our inspiration while supporting literacy for Tacoma, and supporting a group of hard-working women who outdid themselves with this event. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The kid and I sat above the fairgrounds in a wobbly umbrella-covered enclosure, surging over that precarious point in the ferris wheel where I swore to God we would be pitched over, knocked off balance with our mis-matched weight, and die a horrible death.
We didn’t, and I will freely admit that yes, I am a ride-wuss (and afraid of heights, to boot!)
Even still, there was more to be enjoyed at the Puyallup Spring Fair than the rides, though the wee one was happy to partake of the swing ride, the kiddie coaster, and the aforementioned ferris wheel.
We also saw the baby animals, which included the sweetest five-week-old pygmy goats ever, as well as freshly-hatched chicks, and adult animals like a huge male pig (dude—those things are…errr…big) sheep, dancing horses, and cattle. The wee one milked a faux-cow, planted a pumpkin and admired reptiles in the Kid zone, played a game on carny row (lost, of course) and enjoyed cotton candy while waiting in line to catch a trout—and catching one!
She heartily enjoyed herself.
Until the end, as we were walking out. She grew surly in her inimitable 5 year-old way, and said that I never let her have any fun.
Guh?
Well, yeah, remember that haunted house I wouldn’t let her ride? That’s what she remembered most from the experience.
What I remembered most? Moment number one: in line at the trout pond. Boy walks up to mother in line, she shouts something like, “boy, I told you to keep the gun in the stroller!” I look down to see a (plastic) semiautomatic toy gun in his hands.
Guns and strollers? Weird. Almost as weird as kids on leashes and harnesses—many of them.
Moment number two: in line at the swing that goes around and around and around and around (the kids look excited about the first three times. Then they look…bored.)
A man hollers out his kid’s name, she’s about ten feet away from him. He hollers again, starting to run toward her. He yanks her little hand, hauls her up into the air, and unceremoniously plops her into the stroller behind her. She doesn’t flinch or cry; she’s about my daughter’s age.
Ya gotta love a fair.
Just when you need a dose of mix-it-up dance, “MOVE!” comes along to save the day.
MLKBallet will bring “MOVE! A Contemporary Dance Series #4” to the Tacoma School of the Arts Theatre April 20 at 8 p.m. and April 21 at 2 and 8 p.m. Once again a dynamic evening of physical creative expression will rivet audiences compliments of the Pacific Lutheran University Dance, Performance Place Ensemble; excerpts of Ten Tiny Dances; and danielandsomesuperfriends.
When MLKBallet Executive Director Alexa Folsom-Hill was asked to name a single highlight of the evening, she didn’t miss a beat before responding, “We’ve invited back danielandsomesuperfriends.”
This Seattle troupe, whose strong technical ballet base melds with cutting-edge choreography, will present a new piece, “Poor Man’s Boogie.”
“They’re pretty amazing,” Folsom-Hill says.
As with the previous “MOVE!” shows, this installment raises funds to maintain MLKBallet’s tuition-free dance training program on Hilltop Tacoma. — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Tacoma School of the Arts, Friday, April 20 8 p.m., Saturday, April 21 2 and 8 p.m., $14, 1118 Commerce, Tacoma, 253.906.2190 or go to www.mlkballet.org/move.htm]
Premiere Salon and Spa in Olympia is hosting a dirty martini party on Sunday, April 22 from 7 to 9 p.m., which will be held at The Clipper, to help raise funds for the Columbia Riverkeepers, a non-profit conservation group working to restore clean water and a healthy Columbia River.
This event, a partnership with Aveda in celebration of Earth Month, will include dirty martinis, hors d’oerves, a free Aveda candle, and raffle prizes throughout the evening.
All for $15—sweet! — Jessica Corey-Butler
[The Clipper, 402 Fourth Ave E., Olympia, 360.753.3299]
In her statement welcoming the crowd to the Head to Toe Hair and Fashion Extravaganza Saturday night at the Tacoma Elks Lodge, Judy Neal, owner if Valentino’s Hair and Wig Boutique mentioned Don Imus, and suggested, “I’m happy to be nappy.” It was an ironic moment, since the hair on show was all kinds of up-to-the-minute, ultra-chic artistry.
The vibe of the evening was decidedly upbeat and purpose-driven, with improvised live music setting a backdrop of excitement that blended one moment seamlessly into the next. Pam Bowman and Quiana Davis, and the Royalty Dancers also lent to the very classy feel to the evening. The presence and appreciation of the pastors in presence was also a nice touch.
Some segments were skits, while others were dance numbers. Sets were organized by salon, highlighting the talents of eight salons with several designers in each one.
Designers were promenaded and lauded with their styles, which included braids, updos, falls, extensions, innovative cuts, and amazingly creative combinations of these elements.
The Grand Finale featured a dance number. I was almost confused about the hair there — It was covered in intricate wraps, which I thought were the hair art. I was, happily, wrong, and learned in the process that these kinds of wraps are recommended for helping care for some of these elaborate styles.
Stools were set up on stage, and stylist Heylina Wright emerged. With energy and élan, she unwrapped the models’ heads and brushed out the styles she had previously created; two of my favorite styles actually belonged to a mother daughter pair, though the piece de resistance ponytail with fabulous flip front was also gorgeous.
It was a divine end to an inspired evening. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Remember in high school, how your best friend had the coolest sister? You know, the one who loaned you her smokes and bought you beer with her fake ID and laughed at dirty jokes?
She’s still cool as hell, and now she’s a Dame — a Dockyard Derby Dame.
And Saturday night, she was wrapped in a toga and wresting in Jell-O at the South Sound Garage in downtown Tacoma.
She showed up with some of her whip-smart wicked-cool friends, along with their boyfriends. One, he would be Mr Tickles (Derby medic, to you), bared his chest hair win earth-toned batik along with his lovely wife Tess (Tickles — say it fast) while another impressed me mightily with nails-as-facial-piercings.
Yeah, nails.
Remember, in high school, how your other friend had the coolest brother?
Hang out with Dockyard Derby types, and you will. Their next bout is Saturday, May 5, at the Tacoma Soccer Center. Ticket information is here. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The Tournees French Film Festival at the Grand Cinema inspired me to take a walk on the French side of Tacoma Thursday.
The plan started out, to watch “Les Choiristes” and grab some fromage, some vin, and some cuisine.
I started out the cuisine side of things with a trip to Stadium Bistro — tenderloin, salad avec chevre, and tomato bisque and grilled cheese with wine (not French). Waiter Mike kept my glass filled with an amazingly sippable Malbec.
I left happy and made my way up to the Grand Cinema, a sweetly beautiful piece that matched the Corina Bakery Magic Cookie bars that were offered after the show while the conversation, moderated by Pierce College’s Dan Skeldon, ensued.
Afterward, I felt the need for cheese and wine, but —merde! — Enoteca was already closed. I went back to Stadium Bistro and enjoyed a trio of crèmes brulee. They were delicately flavored (one was citric, one had hazelnut essence to it, and I believe the last was a vanilla/cherry) and tres yummy.
Of course, in my world, nothing exceeds like excess, so I did a French day, part deux, yesterday, with my favorite ever lobster bisque from Babblin’ Babs for lunch, followed by dinner with my mother-in-law and daughter at La Crème Brulee in Steilacoom.
Though service was a trifle slow, especially when it came to ordering dessert and getting the check (by which point the wee one was growing wary of the whole dining out thing,) the food was amazing, from the crudités shared before our meal, through to the salads with salmon both adults ordered (kidlette got gorgeously piped mashed potatoes and an assortment of vegetables), and on to the aforementioned desserts: my daughter said her peach and strawberry sorbet was divine, while the grown-ups were digging on the Crème Brulee and a slice of heaven that was a cross between mousse and cake.
Now, completely sated, all I want a nap, to be followed by a solid hour of sweaty fun at the gym to try to undo some of the damage all this fine cuisine has done. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I suspected my Saturday evening was in for challenges when the last-minute sitter I was finally able to find took four hours to confirm that she could, in fact, sit.
She was a younger (read, non-driving) sitter, which meant single-mom me would have to bring her home after my evening at Club Sapphire was over, which also meant that I’d have to pack up the kid to take said sitter home.
Which meant, really, it’d have to be an early night.
As soon as I’d finished a lovely meal with friends, I headed to South Tacoma Way and 56th, to check out Club Sapphire.
Friends I talked to earlier in the day said they had been to the club the week before, and the set-up was cool (“but there were, like, six people there.”)
I tried to call one of those friends, after Culture Babe couldn’t make it (she was at the "Bodies" exhibition in Seattle, cuz she’s cultural like that.)
At that point I realized I had no cell phone, which threw me in a panicked tizzy. No. 1) how would I reach a friend to enlist her into coming out with me? No. 2) How would I reach my sitter to tell her I was running late? No. 3) How would my sitter reach me if anything went wrong?
No matter, I told myself, breathe. Go in, check out the vibe, have a drink, head home.
I couldn’t find it, at first.
Dawson’s Bar & Grill appeared to be hopping, with a rash of revelers out front enjoying their smokes; but I didn’t see “Club Sapphire” til my third pass-through, when I noted the neon open sign and illuminated rainbow sign above the black-tinted windows that showed the name. In the center of th store front, the bouncer sat in a booth that was part porn shop, part vintage theater box-office; doors were closed leaving no clue as to what was happening inside.
I found the closest place to park — a dark alley — and shored myself up to go into a totally unfamiliar place, alone.
As a rule, I don’t mind going out alone. I like the freedom that affords me — the freedom to blot, or the freedom to hang around longer, and the freedom to talk to all and whomever.
But tonight, I was feeling nervous. Something didn’t feel right.
As I got out of the car and bleeped my locks, I heard a sound; behind me I say three dudes with hoods down low on their foreheads.
I got back into my car and high-tailed it home to my tired, but not yet asleep daughter.
I trust Tacoma, I believe that people on the street are not out to get me.
And yet, I am also a realist.
I did not want to be tomorrow’s headline, “Single mother in a coma after mugging, leaving child in the care of a non-driving 17-year-old.”
That would have sucked.
Coming soon: dance night at Club Sapphire, girls gone wild hit South Tacoma Way.
I’m anxious to go to the club, just not alone. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I didn’t understand the Karaoke thing, previously.
As a rule, I don’t sing in public.
Sure, I might belt out the old song in the car, windows tightly closed, no witnesses, but generally, I don’t let most people her me in my dead toad mode.
So co-scribe Ms. Jossy had a recent birthday, and a girl’s night was on-order.
One of Ms. Jossy’s choices: Puget Sound Pizza karaoke.
Umm. Gulp. OK.
So there we were, as things began somewhat awkwardly.
The place was packed, and both Angie and I were surrounded by people we didn’t know, except for Teddy Haggarty. Did you know his old-time relations were Hatfields?
But bartender Anna rocked my world with vodka cranberry — twist of lime — glasses coming all night long, and a taste of pineapple coconut decadence into the evening, and perhaps I can excuse my behavior as liquid lube side-effect?
Dunno.
All I know is, I got the mic, where Leonard Haggarty MC-ed (every Friday and Saturday), and sang "Mother’s Little Helper," a Stones ditty about drugs helping moms along the road, until the mom ODs.
Ms. Jossy sang "Cult of Personality," waking up the crowd. I sang "Breathe (2 am)" and then a Lisa Loeb song, and something else. Because I was an addict, and I needed to feel that warm hard mic in my hand.
I don’t sing well, in public, the same way Ms. Angie rock star Jossy does. She rocks the high notes, relishes the low notes, hugs the mic stand.
Nor do I sing the way Tim did, or Seth-Green look-alike Ben did.
But damn, I had fun.
And I think I caught the karaoke buzz.
Who’d’a thunk it could happen to me? — Jessica Corey-Butler
For Lease: 3,000 square foot space in Tacoma's Opera Alley with some improvements toward the creation of a black box theater.
Hmm.
So is the Horatio Theater Company moving up to that vacant yellow building? Or staying at the Commencement Bay Coffee, where "Sweeney Todd" was staged, and where
"Topdog/Underdog" will run from April 19 to May 6? — Jessica Corey-Butler
Yep, I’m still in fairy mode, ostensibly for the kid, though I seem to be getting more for myself, now that I’ve found a love for all things Crescent Moon Gifts at the Freighouse Square in Tacoma.
In the interest of organizational beauty, I had to break down and buy a couple of calendars — they were buy one get one free, after all; and in that process, I had to buy a couple (okay, four) candles, which came with affirmations to make their mysteriously good scents blend that much better. (OK, got the “creative” affirmation down — now to get the “be organized and timely” affirmation candle.)
Then there were the stones, a rose quartz, an amethyst, and a prosperity-scripted jade.
But lest you think I’m all about me when I shop, I offer this: For the kid, I bought a tooth fairy box that, sadly, the puppies destroyed as it apparently looked like a pig’s ear or bully stick.
Also purchased for the kid a coloring book that was cheap — er, inexpensive —and is her favorite to color in to date, as well as a book on the care and feeding of fairies, more or less, that came with figurines which, apparently, do not look like bully sticks or pigs ears.
Next purchase: a candle for the pups, with an “I will not eat inappropriate items” affirmation?
A man has molested a salmon while stealing a Wal-mart shopping cart, using Karen’s Playstation, and leaving behind fishnets and an abacus.
That man has no idea of what he’s done, and it’s up to his interrogator to leave him clues so that he can confess to the crime.
Eventually, using nebulous cues and body language, the “criminal” comes clean.
Welcome to an evening with Colin Mochrie and Brad Sherwood.
To a degree, the very enjoyable, hilarious evening felt scripted –or at the least, formulaic — despite the “improv” title.
But the formula works: it worked with Mochrie and Sherwood as they appeared in both of the "Whose Line is it Anyway?" shows — English and American — and it worked tonight.
The fans sitting in front of scribe Angie Jossy and me made the trek down from Seattle to view the two who could have been party to his marriage proposal — though his card wasn’t read during that performance.
The fans waiting after the show, for the chance to photograph Mochrie and Sherwood, left disappointed (the boys were whisked away via alien invasion, or something — they just sort of …disappeared) but not really.
The show was wicked smart, wicked funny, and wicked original—a wicked good use of a Sunday April Fool’s Day. — Jessica Corey-Butler
When sweet pea said that yesterday's Wayzgoose at King's Books was a letterpress "O Come All Ye," I thought he was engaging in a bit of hyperbole.
But "All" seemed to attend, and seemed to enjoy themselves as heartily as I did.
The event was centered on letterpress, though the papermaking courtesy of L’Arche Farm & Gardens was a nice (if cold, in front of the shop on the early spring day) warm-up for the activities within. Inside, Jessica Spring had a wee press set up where we received our first memento of the day, a roughly 6X6 card with the haiku “sweet emerald peas/nestling with their neighbors in/shiny spring condos”. It exemplifies what I love about letterpress.
Letterpress is art, plus so much more, made tangible and accessible. There’s something for everyone, from decorator dilettante to art lover, color theorist, historian, mechanical engineer, graphic designer, or lover of literature.
Stylistically, finished works become something old-school modern, and can evoke the turn of the century, the sixteen hundreds, or 1950.
The wee one, aged 5 and a bit, created a work at the table set up by the School of Visual Arts folks, with a bright, bold heart, under which her somewhat eclectic selection of motifs — a phone, three stars, a car salesman, and her name, as well as an arrow, nuclear symbol and flower — blended quite nicely. Together with Lance Kagey of Beautiful Angle, she created her own Beautiful Angle poster, inscribed with copy that made my heart sing: “Tell me a story around a small, neat fire, about the first time your soul rose upward, like smoke, about the first time mercy fell down like ashes upon your head.”
Tragically, the posters were smudged slightly in my grubby little hands. I was saddened by the smudges until I re-thought them: the smudges identified these pieces as imperfectly ours as we involved ourselves in their moments of creation.
Those moments were made more fun by the crowd that surrounded us; there were people I recognized from frequent travels about the town, people I recognized from trips to the Tempest and beyond.
But today was different — I didn’t have a glass of wine in my hand, I had my daughter’s warm hand in mine. We engaged in intelligent art with moms like Rosemary Ponnekanti and Amy McBride, seeing ballet mom friends and their kids, ballet teacher Kate and MLK cohort Alexa, and gaining inspiration from the cards, carvings, wood cuts, book art techniques, and promise of future book making classes offered by King’s on April 14, 21, and 28. — Jessica Corey-Butler
So there I was, downtown, wandering around UWT, looking for a restaurant/store that was Coco something or other that a little bird told me was there.
I couldn’t find it.
So there I was, downtown, looking decidedly elderly and unstylish amid all the SOTA fashionistas, but reveling in the sunlit, crazy-cool campus energy.
So there I was, downtown, hungry as a bear waking from hibernation.
So there I was, downtown, like some kid in a candy store, overwhelmed by dining choices.
Rock Pasta? Nah, too many carbs. Spaghetti Factory? Carbs, lots of ‘em. TwoKoi? Not in workout garb, thanks. Grassis? Ditto previous not. Hot Rod Dogs? Tempting, but then there’s that double wide butt I’d like to minimize. Renaissance Café? Hmm. Possibility. May come back. Starbucks? Not for lunch, not today. Taco Del Mar? Remember the butt? Subway? Meh. Indochine? Hmm. Spring rolls would be nice. But in workout garb? Ew. The Swiss? Hmmm. Tempting, tempting, tempting cubed. But if I have food there, I will have wine, or beer, or wine and beer, and really? It’s, like, one in the afternoon. And I’m a responsible worker-bee and parent. El Gaucho? That’s funny. And not open for lunch, though a steak would be super nice.
There’s the car, so I’m off to try another institution of higher learning. The mother in law has told me about a neat little place she found on her amblings by the University of Puget Sound, through Harned Hall and in the very scholarly courtyard.
So there I was, in North Tacoma, soaking in the sunshine and smart-rays of a campus atmosphere.
Mmmmmm.
The Oppenheimer Café, an all-glass building with sweet light fixtures and posters to remind you to go to the Hawaiian social at the SUB, made me happy. Foods were priced in dollars and points. A curried Waldorf salad wrap with an iced non-fat latte sounded like the winning lunch ticket to me; I wandered back to my car (parked on Greek Row, where once again I felt geriatric and un-hip though hippy) and scarfed my food as I drove to my next worker-bee destination.
True, the tortilla had the texture of leather, and the curry was remarkably subtle, verging on nonexistent.
But dang, it went down easily, and the atmosphere, and all my walking, made me feel wicked smart. — Jessica Corey-Butler
It’ll soon be time to face the not-so strange changes for Café Divino, Pour at Four, and the coming soon (pending permit) DeCaterina’s restaurant in Puyallup, which will open in the former location of the Puyallup From the Bayou.
Current Pour at Four chef Matt Brandsey will be moving on to chef at DeCaterina’s, a new venture set to open in early April.
Moving on from the chef position at Café Divino to the chef position at Pour at Four will be Howie Bursinger.
“(Bursinger) will work off of Matt’s (menu) then start working on a spring and summer update. That will be Howie’s baby,” explains Mark Merrill, who owns Pour at Four with his wife, Susan.
Merrill says they’re pleased to bring Bursinger and his extensive background on board.
“Howie’s worked in Florida and across the U.S.,” says Merrill.
And last but certainly not least in the South Sound musical chef game is Café Divino. Owner Jana Zimmerman just hired a new chef who’ll bring some female chef power to the table. Crystal Haefel trained in France and served as a personal chef for two years, moving on to cater and work in a private school setting.
Initially, Haefel will work off of the existing menu, but will, per Zimmerman, “develop more in the future as far as specials.” — Jessica Corey-Butler
[Café Divino, 2112 N. 30th St., Suite D, Tacoma (Old Town), 253.779.4226]
[DeCaterina’s, 328 S. Meridian (anticipated opening early April), Puyallup]
[Pour at Four, 3814 N. 26th St., Tacoma, 253.761.8015]
Every now and again a person needs a weekend “off.”
I took one last weekend, since the significant one was home in-between schooling obligations.
Which actually meant, paradoxically, more work and busy-busy time for me than the weekends I’m working.
Hmm, what’s up with that?
Of course the weekend also meant fine dining and arts and entertainment galore,
just not the kind of fine dining and arts and entertainment that I typically enjoy (with a few exceptions.)
As I had some work I had to do in the morning of our first day, I lucked out of missing a trip to Odyssey I, a kiddie wonderland in University Place that basically is set up like a habitrail for small two-legged individuals, in addition to having arcade-like games a’ la Chuck E Cheese (but no beer.)
Our first night dinner together, at Red Robin, sort of set the tone for what the rest of the weekend’s fine dining would entail, though you couldn’t really observe the tone over the din.
Day two involved a trip to the SuperMall to get wee one some new togs; she picked out her tooth fairy toy (the glittery magical thing left her a tenner — no fair, I shouted — I only ever got quarters, when I was even left any money at all) and rode a cat on the carousel; we headed north to the Westfield Mall (is it the Southcenter Westfield? I have no idea how that private branding malls things works anymore) to hit fine dining #2, the Rainforest Café. Our “safari” had to wait 50 minutes for a seat, which was situated in the prime real-estate “trail” to the restroom, and the meal was…um… fine. (truth: my salad-limp. Cheese sticks? Soggy. Yellowtail Shiraz? Overpriced, but fine.)
That night, the significant one and I met up with good friends at Paddy Coyne's, where my steak salad was great, and where my wine was, once again, fine.
Kulture Lab, after dinner, was good fun, but I guess the boys in our party wanted to check out extreme death fighting (Ultimate Fighting? I don’t know) on cable; we were home early, since the Significant One was still, physically, set to Eastern Time.
The next day was mellow, with time at the park riding her park for the wee one while I got to launder clothes. Note to homemakers all over: Georgia mud, once set, does not readily come out of ACUs.
As a show of his appreciation, the man took us to Carl’s Jr, where I ate quite possibly the largest burger I’ve ever seen in my life. With a salad and diet lemonade, since I was calorie conscious or something.
More laundry, and re-watching Flushed Away while drinking cheap pink wine spritzers ended day three, while a headache began day four.
He worked, we spent more family time together later in the day, and I cooked a tenderloin, French fingerling potatoes with European-style butter and hand-picked rosemary, and asparagus and mushrooms, all procured by Dave's Meat and Produce (except for the rosemary — that was courtesy my unkempt garden).
It was a fine, peaceful end to a not entirely peaceful weekend, but sometimes the odd weekend of rest makes you appreciate that even when rest is available, it’s often not the chosen option. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The thing about culture is it can bore you on occasion. The thing about Kulture Lab, is that it’s never, ever boring.
This month’s installment, Kulture Lab curator and Dead Artist Jeff Olson’s “Penalty for Removal” installment of graffiti art, cunningly applied directly to walls (and including mounted canvasses) brought an infusion of youth, excitement, and really cool art into the space. Joeski’s pieces blew me and the culture babe away, while James Hume’s Daniel Blue wearable art, Tim Kapler’s collaboration, and all the other divinely groovy works made us examine our definition of “art.”
I liked that the faces were new, the vibe was young, and the energy was infectious.
I loved that the art was amazing, whatever the genre definition was.
Bravo, Jeff, bravo, Dead dudes — bring on the next one!
Note: the next installment is the last installment, as we know them. Catch ‘em, because they kick ass. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The Tacoma City Council campaign kick-off party for Marty Campbell, held in the lobby of the Pantages Theater, started off with familiar faces: Pat Nagle, Derek Young, Rusty George, Julie Bennett, Patricia Lecy-Davis, Jennifer Johnson, and James Hume (who said he was representing “the underbelly of Tacoma”) as well as a wide variety of local business movers and shakers were present showing support for the businessman and community leader as he kicked off his campaign, after announcing his intent to run in early February.
“I’m a communicator,” he said, as he spoke about his intent to support the business and arts communities, as well as the youth of Tacoma.
Position eight, which Bill Evans is vacating, has four candidates running; while the polls in August and November may focus more heavily on the election of a new president, this race could be as interesting to watch.
Among the things that I found exceptional about the event was the food — catered by the Harmon, and the music — nice touch! — by Craig Hoyer, as well as the conversations and connections made. New Volcano friend Jesse Holder, looking smart in his Rocky and Coco’s velvet suit, made me realize how lame I was when I was his age, and the chocolate covered strawberries were just perfect.
I was just bummed not to be able to join the group at the after event at the Harmon — responsibilities as a parent, and scribe, beckoned. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I thought my daughter and I would enjoy quite possibly two of the most disparate activities in existence today, starting with a much anticipated trip to the Pro Bull Riders finals in the Tacoma Dome, followed by a road trip to that city up north to see Pacific Northwest Ballet’s “Hansel and Gretel” (one of a select few events that could get me to make that particular trek.)
As it turns out, the two entertainments aren’t that different, after all. Both involve elaborate costuming, athletic skill, and a passion for the discipline.
But then when you consider the costuming of the ballet (tu-us) versus the bull riders (chaps); the athletic skill for ballet (finesse and grace in time with the music) versus the bull riders (finesse and grace atop a thousand pound ball of muscles and meanness) and you’re pretty much left with the two events having passion in common.
Both were events worthy of passion. The Professional Bull Riding showed the adrenaline infused insanity of the riders — Early in the day, Brian Canter’s rope hand stayed tied to the bull as he was attached to it; as the bull bucked, hopped, kicked, and covered a fair amount of ground, the cowboy flailed like a rag doll.
This specific moment cemented my admiration for the bullfighters and other cowboys, as they all worked together to detach the man from the bull. All I could think was, “ouch. Rotator cuff. Ouch, that’ll put dude in some Physical Therapy." Turns out, the event puts dude back in Dallas, in the hands of a surgeon who will fix his fractured ankle.
That was unexpected.
And then there was the moment when Brendon Clark, the Aussie I met at the Gonyea Boys and Girls Club, completed his 8 second ride only to get stomped on the leg by the mammoth bull. Again, my thoughts ran to toward “Ouch.”
“Ouch” didn’t happen in the PNB’s Hansel and Gretel, though.
The fabulous costuming accented the light, breezy grace of the dancers. Jordan Veit and Colby Lewis, the young lead dancers, enchanted me with their expressiveness and skill, while the wee one was entranced by the toe-shod birds, most notably Michelle Le who impressed me with her strength, energy and grace. Of course, my highly sophisticated daughter was most impressed by the sparkles on that particular tutu.
Ironically enough, as we recapped the day in the car on the trip home, I asked her which event she liked better. “Ballet,” she responded in a millisecond; “The bull thing was boring.”
Umm. Right.
We might need to work on operative definitions: she fell asleep at the ballet, midway through. There was no sleeping to be had during the bull riding.
Good times, though, all of ‘em. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Last night I decided to ignore the green Irishness afoot and go Scottish.
I headed down to McCabes' American Music Cafe with fellow scribe Angela Jossy to see if A) There were any bull riders at the country & western establishment and B) See if I could spot the elusive “buckle bunny.”
I did spot a wicked cool bouncer wearing a hand-made sticker that proclaimed “F*** you, I’m Scottish” and a fair amount of cowboy hats, paired with Wranglers, and starched shirts tucked in, but really, it wasn’t what I expected it to be.
I expected a sort of meet market desperation, I expected everything stereotypical that might happen in a country song about cheatin’ hearts and lipstick on a collar.
Didn’t happen, as far as I witnessed.
I witnessed people having a great time: I witnessed guys being polite (shocking, but true — as I walked from the crowded bar to my seat bearing a pitcher of Mac & Jacks, people actually cleared the way for me). I witnessed couples dancing elaborate steps, and yes, I even witnessed one or two pro bull riders with smiling faces. I actually engaged in some great conversation with some really friendly strangers who I now happily consider friends. I even tapped my toes a time or two.
True confession: I actually owned several Garth Brooks CDs. During the same time that I listened to these CDs, I considered wearing Wranglers and Ropers. Tragically, I chose to wear biker shorts with constructed jackets instead, but that’s a different story.
I actually did try to learn to 2-step once (I kept getting lost between step one and step two, though.)
And though I like to think I don’t “get” the whole line dance thing (it’s almost like drill team for grown-ups) I have to admit that, yes, I too line-danced in all earnestness (But didn’t everyone learn the electric slide?)
After last night’s fun and games, I think I reconsidered all of my preconceived notions. I think I may just have to go shop for a pair of cowboy boots, at the very least (you won’t see this bod in short shorts with chaps) and I may just have to give learning the two-step another go.
Think I could make the significant one buy a western shirt and Wranglers?
I think it’s worth a try. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Every now and again, I will have these “Oh My God I Love My Job!” a-ha moments, and I had an extended one of those last night at the first annual Tacoma Symphony of Taste Culinary Competition.
What the event boiled (or more appropriately, sautéed) down to was a cooking competition between collegiate rivals, a sort of “Who will be America’s Next Top Chef” goes Technical College with Clover Park Technical College taking on Bates.
Dr Dick Bowe, a Tacoma opthamologist whom I first became acquainted with at my daughter’s etiquette classes, won the event at a Tacoma Symphony Orchestra auction.
Held at the amazingly cool kitchen of Bargreen Ellingson and emceed by BE’s corporate Chef Bob Mauer, the evening started with champagne, provided by the Pour at Four, along with the rest of the wines we enjoyed through the course of the evening.
Our first courses set the tone for the evening, with Team CPTC serving up a Beef Tenderloin Tartare, Scallop Marco Polo, and Duck Vittore trio (the combo of duck plus kumquat made my heart sing!) pitted against Team Bates’ Glazed Shrimp and Scallop with Stuffed Artichoke chive cream. By the time I ate the latter plate, the shrimp was cold and I wasn’t entirely certain how to eat it (the shrimp were skewered on a piece of lemongrass, while the chive cream was dished up in an artichoke heart— a nice touch!)
Round two, course two was soup — Team CPTC again showed innovation with their Thai Ginger and Lemongrass soup; there was a spicy heat to the soup that made it zing, pop, and refresh my palate, while the Bates Roasted Corn and Red Pepper Bisque Dungeness Crab soup had an addictive, creamy decadence to it. Both the first courses were matched with a light and fresh Argentinian Sauvignon Blanc.
The next course, served singly, was the entrée by CPTC was a Beef Filet with Purple Potato and Parsnip Gratinee, Swiss Chard and red pepper coulis that pleased my palate in ways I couldn’t even dream—there was watercress, bleu cheese, and all kinds of tenderness to the filet; paired with the Pinot Noir it was like food heaven.
By the time I had entrée number two, BTC’s Pork Roast Tenderloin, Anna Potatoes, and carrots and zucchini, I was getting to the point of palate bliss that makes exact analysis of flavors challenging; those around the table with me, students of Bates’ Production Class and their teacher Al Hunton seemed to reach a new level of gastronomic bliss, responding vocally favorably to the salt that I took in as “go to bloat, go directly to bloat.”
When the Annabella Cabernet Sauvignon was poured, and the desserts came out, I hit a new level of bliss: though the BTC Lemon Mousse had a fresh, light palate cleansing quality that was a refreshing end to the meal, the better match for the wine was the chocolate truffle cake drizzled with cinnamon syrup. Though I appreciated the nod to the Asian fusion in many of the dishes CPTC put out, reinforced by the serving of Crème Brulee in a Chinese soup spoon, I was less impressed by the over-burned taste and loose texture of that dish.
In the end, it was Bates who won the overall battle, with taster’s comments ranging from “I don’t eat raw meat, sorry!” to, “I won’t eat tartare.”
And in the end, as CPTC team members Michael Stockin, Tevonn Mitchell, Jaron Witsoe, Jhorge Abueg, and Gary Rim shook hands with the victorious team members Andrew Stinson, Gilbert White, Angie Brueckner, Tony Lim, and Chaz Mills, I couldn’t help but admire all the individuals for their grace and creative finesse under pressure. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Hopeful models-to-be will strut their stuff on Thursday, March 15, at the “Rock Your Prom” fashion show open call at the Tacoma Mall for models hoping to “make it” as a model.
Noreen Hobson, who loves the term “make it,” will be there looking for those shining brightest.
The driving force behind LUX Talent in Tacoma (formerly NFI), Hobson will not only be helping JCPenney and Seventeen put on the show, she’ll be keeping an eye out on the prospects she sees.
So what will Hobson be looking for? Check it here. — Jessica Corey-Butler
We were enchanted yesterday, the wee one and I, as "Swan Lake" opened to the scene of Prince Siegfried’s party.
I saw the sizes, ages, and bright eyes of the individuals on stage and tears streamed down my face unwittingly. Hours, weeks, months of effort were apparent; these weren’t individuals paid to do what they loved, possibly they were people paying to do it, or on grants.
That’s the beauty of community theater and dance; it’s all about the love of the activity.
With Dance Theatre Northwest’s "Swan Lake," we saw the love, and we felt it; we saw the hard work of the dancers, many of whom performed triple roles, even more, in the ambitious production.
Standouts were plentiful: in the corps were individuals who showed energy and vitality even two hours after beginning the ballet; the sweet quartet of swans had my heart in my throat and had my tears streaming again as the dance went on.
Ultimately, though the numerous (I stopped counting at 32) fouettes performed by Katie Neumann were impressive, they weren’t enough to propel her to “star” status, in my book. Even my wee one, who was so excited to see Odette, and then so anxious to see Odile, (pronounced Oh-Dial by the narrator, which irked me) was left fidgeting through her performances as both personae.
It’s not that Neumann wasn’t great, it’s just that she wasn’t riveting. She was impressively limber and swan-like, as Odette, but there was something hollow and possibly stiff about her as Odile.
Even still, the kid came home and immediately began dancing as a swan, and as corps dancers. She felt the magic of the dance, and forgot the length, which said volumes as she was the kid whining, “mommy, how much longer,” despite her familiarity with the storyline.
It was exactly a perfect arts afternoon for the two of us, hanging out together. She brought a stuffed dog with her to the ballet, and I asked her what the puppy thought of the evening.
Her response: “The music was great, and the dancing was pretty.” — Jessica Corey-Butler
The opening of a new gallery in Tacoma is a cool thing.
The opening of a gallery combining the directorial vision of New York gallery-‘nista Kelly Joseph, just arrived from NYC, combined with a Sixth Avenue vibe, is a very cool thing.
Put that gallery next to a wine merchant/wine bar, and give them a joint opening with fabulous food catered by Il Fiasco with some lovely solo guitar music, and you have me deeply ensconced in cool-thing Heaven.
The art at Rebecca V Gallery — named after the daughter of owner Tony Valenzuela — showed an array of styles, from the expressionistic Impressionism of Martha Reisdorf, to the glass work of Diane Hanson, to the watercolors by Mary Ann Coles evoking Venice and Sun that made me want to take them home; on to Molly Cliff-Hilts’ deeply personal painted paraffin pieces that mixed saturated cerulean blues with iridescent pigments and deep introspective umbers that also made me want to take them home. Gelatin print photographs by Philippe Mazaud intrigued me, as did the paintings by Carol Hartsock and the landscapes by Patrick Howe, situated toward the front of the gallery where a very cool desk balanced out the leather furniture and hanging panels displaying art suspended from beams that worked as architectural counterpoints to the exposed, subtle vaulting of the ceiling.
In Pairings Wine Bar, it was more of the same, architecturally, with rustic elements marrying the urban in the exposed (faux finished, actually!) floors, exposed trusses, and rough-hewn wood main bar.
The wines offered were exquisite — I have to say I am now a fan of the Oregonian “7” — and the service was offered in a friendly, open manner despite the crazy crowd mingling about.
After we perused the gallery, my friends and I beat the rush to Asado, where we supped on appetizers, and found it fun to face-spot the individuals coming in from the gallery.
It felt like the post-Kulture Lab Tempest, but dressed in their Sunday best.
It felt like a new art-kid in town, all dressed up and ready to sell. — Jessica Corey-Butler
They’ve been with you through the good and bad times, close to your heart.
So why are you letting them down with an ill-fitting bra?
Nordstrom Tacoma, in association with Wacoal and the Susan G Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, is putting on an event on March 15 that will teach you all you need to know about why — and how — to support your sisters.
Says Stacey Ellis, after explaining the day to me, “We’re very passionate about this event.”
With good reason — it’s a win win win situation that one could get passionate about.
Attend one of two free seminars on fit — at noon, and at 6 p.m. — a nd learn the whys and wherefores of good bra fit.
Schedule a fitting anytime on that day, and Wacoal will donate $2 to the Susan G Komen Breast Cancer foundation, which Nordstrom will match with another $2. Purchase a bra by Wacoal, Donna Karan, or DKNY, and another $2 will be donated.
Call ahead for seminar reservations or to schedule your fit: 253.475.3630 x 1240 — your sisters will thank you for it! — Jessica Corey-Butler
So you wanna be a supermodel?
Possibly your first step toward that might be the event happening at the Tacoma Mall on Thursday and Saturday, the “Rock Your Prom” extravaganza hosted jointly by Seventeen Magazine and JCPenney.
If you’re 13-21 and think you have what it takes to strut your stuff on a catwalk in a prom dress, show up Thursday, March 15, at the JCPenney Court, at 3 p.m. for the Model Call.
Leave your Zoolander “Blue Steel” face at home, and come prepared to strut, dance, and smile down the runway. The fashion show and concert will be held Saturday. March 17 at 1 p.m.
This event will culminate on Saturday, March 17, with models chosen performing in the actual “Rock Your Prom” fashion event, which will feature “Over It” playing live. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Last night's RAGS Wearable Art Sale and Gala at was the scene of much art. Most of this art was carried around on moving canvasses, bodies showing off last years’ purchases or modeling items for sale this year.
The wine flowed freely, loosening purse strings (present company included) while the jazz music from the trio of musicians known as the Kareem Kandi Band added to the ambience of the evening.
The diverse crowd of people wandered around the completely altered Mercedes Benz of Tacoma, oohing, ahhhing, sipping, and buying.
For myself, I blew my paycheck on one of Maureen-Galloegos’ embellished handbags, a couple of pairs of Diane Vermalen’s felted wool ballerina slippers (I love them so much I slept in them!) a Lisa Kinoshita leather necklace, a button bracelet from Theresa Owens and chandelier earrings and a matching fabulous multiple strand pearl bracelet by Jessica Alexander. Seeing Britt Simone and Marty from Vinosus (and planning future purchases) was good fun, as was running into family friends from long ago. There’s nothing quite so satisfying as having your childhood best friend’s father grabbing you wine and dropping f-bombs.
Ahhh, sweet adulthood.
Also satisfying: knowing the large wad of dough I dropped was going to a worthy cause, the YWCA’s domestic violence programs.
You too can get some cool stuff for a worthy cause through Sunday, at the Mercedes Benz of Tacoma. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Impeccably dressed women jotted notes as the chef worked steadily, his lovely assistant (and wife) anticipating his every move with a minimum of back and forth conversation.
Together Chef Lim Po Ahn of Wild Orchid on Sixth Avenue and his wife demonstrated, and created, four dishes and a dessert for those present at the Taste of Asia Thailand cooking demonstration presented by the Asia Pacific Cultural Center in Tacoma: Galanga Chicken Soup, Thai Beef Salad, Green Curry Chicken, Pineapple fried rice, and Coconut Fried Banana. The foods created had the perfect blends of exotic flavors like galanga root, lemongrass, coconut milk, and fish sauce; the steak salad had me at “hello” with its bright fresh flavors, and is probably going to become my new Friday lunch favorite, although even the green curry chicken and galanga soups had me “mmmm-ing” out loud.
What I liked most about the presentation and subsequent lunch, though, was the conversation afterward; introductions were made and the chef spoke of his background — he’s half Chinese, half Lao, and spent a large chunk of time in France, before discovering the northwest, where he met his wife when she applied to his restaurant to cook for him.
He explained his values: attending temple so his daughter can learn from the monks there even when she won’t listen to her parents (the little girl is two), working for living rather than living for work (you work for a” good quality life,” he said, warning of becoming consumed by success), traveling to see family (“you have to take care of your parents.”)
His last statement received nods all around, “You have to learn to understand each other,” he advised.
The Ahns were at the Korean Womens’ Association building (123 East 96th St) through the efforts of Patsy Surh O’Connell and Amy Sie, who dreamed up the idea of bringing together various Asian cultures and learning them more deeply through through learning to cook their foods; the series will continue for five more weeks and teach Korean, Chinese, Indian, Japanese and Filipino cuisine. Each class is $50, and is limited to 15 people. Sign up at the APCC Web site. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Sign of the times?
The handwritten message on the door of Bob's Java Jive last night proclaimed, “The Jive is Alive!”
But it wasn’t. No lights illuminated the inside of the space, no neon glowed. No humans were about.
Guh?
Was I early? Not according to the sign, which said, “Open at 4:30.” It was 7:30 on a Saturday night.
I was left baffled, and still am.
So, did the T-Town permitting deities revoke the permit for the place for some reason? Did the Tacomans in despair of the “landmark” closing down forget to inhabit it, once it opened back up? Or was it just an off night, someone was sick and forgot to open the doors?
What’s the deal? — Jessica Corey-Butler
Jazzbones knows how to host an artist’s reception, and showed it in classy fashion last night as Desiree Flerchinger unveiled her girls in her first solo show for Jazzbones, “Where do you let the music take you?”
The whole project started as a girls’ night; she gathered her girlfriends and took photos of them (and a couple of herself) as they shook, swayed, and struck rocker-poses. These girls — Nicci, Shawna, Lisa, Sarah, Elizabeth, Dinean, Holli, Gaylene, Mary K, Linda, Deena, and Willow — were all given orchids, Desiree’s own classy touch, and sported them as they frolicked about the packed balcony gallery space among the other beautiful people present.
Dez herself sparkled and glowed with fabulous make-up by new-chica-on-the-circuit, Irene Deneen, from Nordstrom’s MAC counter; other fabulousness present was KAke, Renee, Rose, Erin, Houston, Eric, Devon, Big "Cupid" Man, Dead Artist Jim Price, Cheri Rae and Roland, Matt Ecklund and the resplendently classy GM of Jazzbones herself, Jennifer Johnson. Present in busy worker capacity, Laura Ecklund and Joe Rosati bustled around making sure the artist and her admirers were well taken care-of.
Despite all the activity in the space, it was Desiree’s art that sparkled the most; some of that shine was from the applied shimmering texture, though more of the magic came from the paintings themselves.
According to Desiree’s statement, “The canvas should carry life.” These canvasses definitely do, and it was great fun to compare the dancers on canvas to the dancers in person. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Is the Tacoma Health Department putting the kibosh on Art Walk/Night on the Town fun?
Possibly, though the Weekly Volcano has not yet heard from representatives of the health department, our friend Julia Russell from Metropolitan Vet brought this:
“Some recent not-so-good news for the Art Walk/Night on the Town venues: the Health
Dept (and state liquor control board) have issued us big no-no's for serving (non-compliant) chow and (non-licensed) hooch at our events. If we want to keep in compliance, it's juice boxes and packages of pretzels from here on out. I'm fearful that the 100th Monkey venue may be their next target!
I think it's a real blow to the arts community, as well as to the downtown core who are trying to build up their businesses.”
All I can say in response is, Meep! — Jessica Corey-Butler
Somebody pinch me: Tacoma feels like a real city.
Granted, it feels like a real city most of the time, to me, but with Wintergrass going on there are actual people walking around Commerce, Broadway, Fawcett, and all the connecting streets in downtown Tacoma. Parking isn’t entirely fun, but you have to overlook that particular negative and just dwell on the vibe that you can see, hear, and smell in the streets.
Go into the Sheraton and it’s a particularly loud vibe, with more smiles per capita than I can remember seeing; the open areas are alive with the sounds of music, extemporaneous jam bands break out like pimples on a teen-ager’s face on the morning of prom, but with much better results.
In the downstairs lobby alone I counted six different hastily-assembled groups picking and strumming their way through chord progressions; I saw age ranges from 7 to 85; I heard the percussive thrum of instruments as varied as the skins on banjos to harmonicas to upright basses on down to a metal bucket contraption with a stick and a bungee.
It felt like Appalachia, it felt like middle America, and it felt like an awfully good time.
One hotel employee had a bit of a sour expression on his mug as he picked up trash left behind; yet another employee had a broad smile as she smoked a cigarette outdoors.
Asked how she liked having all the people underfoot, she replied, “I love it!”
I had to agree. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The darkened room at the Art House had lights focused in on the speaker at the mic. Behind her the trumpet and guitar created a moody ambiance that enhanced the words she uttered.
It wasn’t the typical jazz-tinged spoken word gig, however: when Skie Bender read selections from her book, "The Knife Beneath My Shirt," the experimental sounds emitted from Kevin Jacobs, on guitar and Jason Gutz, on trumpet flowed like sometimes murky water under words that jutted like rocks.
Sections read from sketched the building relationship the protagonist has with India, the mutilated crow she’s s rehabilitating, as well as the relationship the protagonist has as a five year-old with her aunt, as well as with nature; one section develops the nearly consumptive relationship the protagonist has with her art.
The whole evening — the readings, the sentiments, and the musical backdrop flowed like best of rivers, ebbing and building up and oddly soothing as the evening progressed.
Jacobs, who will have a showing of his collage works through March at Café Vitta, seemed impressed by the large turnout for the event, comparing it favorably to the publishing parties he and Bender would throw in Los Angeles.
Bender herself, signing books for throngs of approving people, seemed gracious and appreciative of all the positivity around her.
Fun moment for me: seeing the Volcano prominently displayed with Bender’s other novellas and a live Fire Ants CD.
If you missed the event — fie on you! You can get your book through here. — Jessica Corey Butler
I took the wee one to "MOVE!" for the first time — hers, not mine.
Having gone to all the other "MOVE!" dance productions, there was no way I would miss this one, and since the evening show started at 8, I couldn’t really drag the kid Friday night. But Saturday’s 2 p.m. matinee was too perfect an opportunity to go share something I loved with my kid.
She was riveted (as was I, truth be told.)
Once again, "MOVE!" was a great compilation of creative expression, with a few stand-out treats thrown in for us to appreciate: the introductory film, a five minute piece by Tacoma’s own TV 12, showed the striped back of the wee one herself, enjoying herself at an MLKBallet class, and the following piece, “The Breaking” by The Can-Can Castaways of the Seattle Pike Place Market’s Can-Can Kitchen and Cabaret had a toy-box feel to it that brought my kid immediately into the moment.
“Pendulum” by the Tacoma Dance Collective, showed the sinuous-strong talents of Lynn Wilmot-Stenehjeman, whom my daughter recognized from when she took dance classes at the YMCA, in collaboration with Trina Doss, Kristi Hoke, Robin Jaeklein, Mary Mabry, Laura Miltner.
“Stella Alone,” a film by Christiana Axelson danced by Heather Budd, showed the kinds of fun you could have with heaps of clothes, a fridge and oven, and a rooftop (don’t try this at home, kids!)
Then “Moon” from the Selfick Ng-Simancas & Co delighted Miss thing — though the headdress on Ng-Simancas, designed by Lisa Fruichantie spooked my kid at first, seeing her teacher Kate in dancer-mode gave her inspiration. The intensity and multimedia dimension of this piece (film was projected behind the dancers) created an involving dis-ease that reminded me of films like Farewell My Concubine, a fact that I appreciated as I read, in the program, that the intent was for the piece to evolve into a Chinese opera style ballet.
My last happy surprise was seeing former intrepid Volcano intern Jessie Fouts with her group of co-dancers from the School of the Arts. This dance, “The Hunt,” captured the intensity of a hunt in nature, tigers versus Zebras.
I was impressed.
All the dancers impressed us, as did the show’s construction. I loved seeing the poetic geometry and physical skill, and loved feeling swept away by the action on the stage.
More, I loved knowing that the group sitting with us were helping to support MLKBallet, since proceeds go toward the free ballet school that brings such an amazing art form to people who might consider it “boring.”
See a "MOVE!" show and I guarantee, that “B” word won’t enter your vocabulary. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Turns out there was more activity at The Stadium Bistro than originally anticipated tonight: 12 girls showed up for the etiquette class taught by Judi Guthrie, with their respective moms (and a dad) in tow.
Also present, bodies in tables in the front of the house (we waited for our princesses in training at the back of the house) and a reporter and photographer from the Trib.
So I didn’t really get a good sit-down chat with chef Pete Weikel, the younger Peter from Stadium Bistro.
We did get a few words in edgewise, however: yes, the Iron Chef at Kitchen Stadium (Bistro) Tacoma is in the works, and yes, the Stadium space at Stadium Bistro seems like it’ll be the perfect fit. Possibly other venues will open up, and possibly this could be the coolest thing, ever.
What I took home with me, was the memory of a fabulous salad (pear and goat cheese) and a toasted cheese sandwich/tomato bisque combo that rocked my world for a mere four bucks, as well as a very nice-sipping Malbec.
What I took home with me was a 5-year-old daughter who, though telling me, “Mom I’m so nervous I can’t think right now!” on the way there, was telling me, on the way home, “Mom, we need to go get a soup spoon tomorrow, and when you eat, you need to chew with your mouth closed and never talk.”
Wow.
Next week: We go back for more, a full meal for the wee Miss.
Possibly, that’ll mean she won’t want to eat Chee-tos on the way home. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Things are crazy-cool on Broadway at 6:30 p.m. Mariachi music is streaming out onto the street from an event at the Crystal Ballroom, the jazz crowd is walking up the hill to the Rialto to see Bill Frisell, the Black History Celebration is packing the Pantages, and as the rain spatters down, the actors at Tacoma Actors Guild are waiting to get into the building for their show, "Proof," set to hit the stage at 8 p.m.
TAG's Direcotr of Education Jesse Star Michener walks up, keys in one hand, plate of banana bread muffins for the cast and crew in the other, two bags over her shoulder. Letting everyone in, she makes her rounds in the vast building, unlocking doors and showing me around “behind the scenes.”
I’m impressed.
We walk up the street to Tully’s, and she tells me that the Broadway vibe on this night makes her happy, and sad. Happy, because this is exactly the energy that makes the Theatre District feel alive. Sad, because she’s uncertain that TAG will survive.
“The community just has to show its support by coming to the show, or else the organization just won’t be here,” she admits sadly.
This organization is both her past — as well as her husband’s — and her household’s livelihood. Her husband, Mikel Michener, is technical director for "Proof," though right now she’s technically “laid off.”
“Three of us were,” she tells me. “We’re just doing this because we believe,” she adds.
“Everyone here at TAG is giving 150 percent, and it’s just not working,” she admits sadly.
Funding, which petered out and hasn’t come back, has created the need for a creative group of people to resort to creative measures, like the Hitlist seen and heard about in cyberspace, as well as a silent auction, raffle, and proposed donations from sales of artworks by artists Frank d’Ippolito and Alec Clayton, as well as items from the ArtStop at LeRoy Jewelers.
The hope is that these measures, as well as others (like the dare to past subscribers: see the show, for free. If you like it, join the Hitlist) will lure audiences back into the theater.
“We’re doing everything we can to show the community, ‘we’re back,’“ Jesse asserts, alluding to the non-TAG recent past when the shows produced were technically, “the house of TAG” but driven by the Bellevue Civic Theatre.
Some long-time supporters I talk to before the show have held stoically to their belief in TAG.
“If I had to choose between TAG and the Sonics,” a gentleman asserts, “I’d choose TAG.”
Betsy Miller, our volunteer Flight Attendant and stand-up comedian for the evening, introducing the show, explains to us that everything we’re about to see is TAG; it “proves” the caliber of what a Tacoma theater is capable of.
I hear someone murmuring “beautiful set” behind me (and I agree, inwardly,) and then the play begins.
I’m impressed.
I’m also amused, fascinated, emotionally involved, and gut-level troubled by the story that rolls out in front of me. Yep, F-bombs are scattered about. Yep, there’s some sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
I’m not a theater critic; anymore I rarely attend the theater and have no “formal” knowledge of what make a theater tick, or what makes a show work.
All I know is, based on my viewing, and experience at the show I saw, I’m joining the Hitlist, despite not having been “tagged.”
I’m challenging all of you reading this to go see the show as well. Take some time away from the computer, sit in a theater with a few of your closest friends, and get swept away.
The show plays until March 4, and is, in my humble estimation, wicked good.
Another woman questioned after the show, a Seattleite visiting our fair city, agrees with me. She’s seen the Broadway version, with Jennifer Jason Leigh, and thought the T-Town version was better.
Yeah, for real.
Once again, I’m impressed. — Jessica Corey-Butler
A minute ago, after numerous honks at the drive-up window at Perky's, Tacoma's other coffee pot, the barista never arose from her slumped position in front of her espresso machine. I drove away from the joint on Bridgeport Way Southwest wondering if she was asleep or dead.
I feel guilty. Please someone check on her. — Jessica Corey-Butler
I’m afraid tonight’s “Night on the Town” left me feeling cold.
It wasn’t the weather: while it was windy, the rain abated, and the climate was really downtown walking mild.
And while the crowds weren’t surging, I did find individuals I liked a lot at each of the places I visited; the hosts and hostesses were amenable (and yes, the wine was flowing), the art was all really noteworthy, and the vibe was T-Town warm.
All the makings were there for a perfect wine-wobble/art/community-appreciation night, despite the numbers being lower than I remember from October and December.
But I didn’t really get a chance to get into it.
Did I think anything was wrong with the event?
No, in typical Hungarian daughter fashion, I blame myself. I tried to pack too much into one hour.
Think of it. One hour. Not at all enough time to wander from one place to the next, sampling wine, chatting, and appreciating art.
But one hour was all I had, since I wanted desperately to make my voice heard at Coffee and Rhetoric. So I sprinted.
My starting gate was the Met Vet, where I was greeted by a super cool art car and the smiling and wonderful faces of Dr. Natalie and Julia as well as the wonderful “take me home” kitties in the reception area. The art, by Kelly Lyles, is whimsical and fun, and was the perfect start for my evening.
Driving by Two Vaults Gallery and Kuture Lab, I saw signs of life and happy art viewing; I drove on, for I had many destinations to go and 43 minutes left.
I peeked in at Embellish, where I was treated to a heavenly hand-spa (dang, those products are cool!), beautiful “Faces,” by Cara Jennings, and music that made me want to sit and stay, especially with the concept Jana Losey posed, an alternative to TV called “Art Warriors.” And stay I did, for a moment, but I was getting nearer to 7 p.m.
So I drove on.
Parking near the former David’s on Broadway, I sprinted as far as Moroccan Interiors and enjoyed the ambience of the brand-newly opened store. Despite issues with their POS system, the show went on, in an opulent fashion. I was offered wine, and nearly cried as I refused it; on I raced.
Into Sanford and Sons Shops I veered, past the former-Mecca dumpsters. The shop spaces are all inhabited and the midlevel feels alive and thriving and I was giddy with the vitality of it all. Did I stay for multiple sips of wine? No, sweatily, I had to bid my adieu of the nattily dressed Alan Gorsuch, preparing to read from his book, and the rest of my favorite shop-keeping friends, despite loving the cynical Valentine art set up on the auction-room “gallery.”
I raced on, late, past Rampart, where I desperately yearned to go see and learn and be with the cool kids I’ve heard about and don’t yet know.
But that was not for me. I arrived, panting, at my car, and made it into the Coffee and Rhetoric Art-straveganza 15 minutes late.
I learned about the Tacoma Party-Art community, and I shared in conversation as to why Tacoma is The Coolest, and how we can make it even cooler.
From that, I learned, “be involved.”
From it, as well, I learned, “It’ s hard to be involved in all of it.”
And that was a liberating concept.
Past that, upon consideration, how cool is it, that we have, within our confines, a vital arts + community event that can’t be experienced in an hour?
Tres cool, I would have to answer. — Jessica Corey-Butler
Over the last 12 Valentines Days the significant one and I have shared, he has staunchly subscribed to the theory that Valentines Day is a non-holiday; that the commercial Establishment created the event purely for profit.
I have always smiled, nodded and agreed, because doing so saved me expense and “what do I get him” headaches, and besides, it is a commercial fabrication — I’d rather show a person more often than once a year, that they are appreciated. But that’s just me.
So it came to pass that this year, the Significant Dude sent me “flowers.”
Turned out to be a basket of chocolates from a florist; (Gracias, Grassis!) — in it were truffles of many shapes and sizes, dark chocolate bars, many items formerly known as Frangos, and more, more, more.
As it turned out the kid brought me home chocolate, and it turned out the mother-in-law brought me some, too.
I like chocolate, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t love chocolate.
So then we, mother-in-law and I, went to Cello Octet Conjunto Iberico presented by the Tacoma Philharmonic at the Pantages Theater.
More chocolate.
The rich sounds of the cello — eight of them, in point of fact — soothe the soul in ways that must be experienced. There is something about the range of the instrument that’s not quite bass, not quite treble, not quite limited by mere mortal “range.”
The instruments, especially in the hands of the Spanish ensemble, can soar from elemental low points into treble notes, can whine into surreal ranges, can rhythmically move together in primal, sensual, modern, beautiful ways.
Combine this with Pilar Jurado, and you have death by aural chocolate decadence.
The first notes she sang, in the opening number by Marlos Nobre, “Tres Cancoes de Beiramar” stunned in ways her mink-brown gown with no back and a train to die for didn’t. Her voice couldn’t be classified, my mother-in-law and I agreed, as strictly “soprano” because her low notes were just so emotionally involving, and the high notes were always rich, not shrill. Her voice was so perfectly the cellos’ match that there were times I couldn’t tell where Jurado ended, and the cello began, and vice versa. That was amazing.
Jurado’s stage presence and interplay with the audience was also engaging; even when she wasn’t on stage and the octet played the excitement was maintained through the innovative pieces that combined the chamber orchestral stylings and synergy that I love with a hint of the unknown. Surprises were plenty: the second piece was not, as on the program, the stunning Phillip Glass “Symphony for Eight,” (although it did appear, as number three) rather, piece #2 was a Dutch composer’s idea of a Turkish dance. Conductor Elias Arizcuren explained, through his sexily thick Spanish accent, that the piece was created for the ensemble. The composer, whose name I wish I understood, said, according to Arizcuren, “I don’t want to hear a single cello sound.”
The piece, unsettling and ghostly, showed the amazing range of the cello; my mother-in-law shook her head sadly and said, “can’t dance to it.” I tingled with goosebumps at a totally new aural experience and smiled and nodded.
My last surprise of the evening did not lay in the two encores performed by Conjunto Iberico and Pilar Jurado; these pieces had a Spanish flair and emotion that made me happy, make no mistake, but these pieces where what I had expected the whole evening to be.
No, my last surprise in the evening lay in the stunning Christobal Halffter piece, Fandango Sobre un tema del Padre Soler.
Beginning with a pizzicato interplay between two cellists, the piece built from notes spaced seemingly bars apart, which felt like the Simon game I played as a kid, to a soaring, old-school chamber orchestra piece with fun twists on dissonance, and a crazy-cool rising-note pizzicato. The piece very nearly ended on a pianissimo pizzicato, but soared again into a frenzy of sensory overload, then ended on a single note, played in unison, forte pizzicato.
It made my heart sing, and it made me yearn for chocolate.
I bought a bottle of wine, came home, relieved the sitter as I sent the mother-in-law home, munched on some yummies from my basket as I sipped and reveled in how apropos the treat was as a metaphor for my evening.
Yum, Tacoma Philharmonic.
Yum, Significant One. Happy Valentines Day, and I love you.
The problem with going big as one gets older is the day-after repercussions grow exponentially.
Saturday was so chock-full of events, fun, and sips in the City of Destiny, that my head didn’t hit the pillow ‘til 5 am yesterday.
And yes, it hurts, today.
Our group was off to a late start due, in part, to my costuming issues. I wanted to stride the line between vamp and trash, equally at home at an erotic arts event and an '80s-based prom, yet suitable for a singles wine tasting event.
Yeah, tall order.
So there we were, standing around with shots of tequila at cultured friend’s house, waiting to figure out what we were doing about transpo. Her husband saved the day, and dropped us off at Vin Grotto, where Heath Delaney amused and amazed us with his magic antics. Without giving too much away, let me just say he does this pin-swallowing thing that will either gross you out or impress the heck out of you (possibly, both?) and he’s kind of a mind-reading card trickster. New friend Emily was trying to figure out how he did the tricks, but I think she left wondering.
We all left wondering how the heck we’d make it up the hill to Kulture Lab — it was late, and we were getting there at the tail end of what was, by all accounts, an amazing event. We caught a ride from the magician himself, and mingles amongst the thinning crowd, bummed that we missed the Glamazon Babes’ drag show.
Even more bummer, Jim Price’s news that there will only be two more Kulture Labs. “But we will emerge again,” Price proclaimed: “ Like the mighty Phoenix.”
And, one couldn’t help but have one’s hopes buoyed by the titillating sights all around: with the exception of the sausage-and-alfalfa sprout (scary-real-looking) phallus on the treat table, there wasn’t a whole lot of male art around, though there was one piece with a butterfly that I was particularly fond of.
Above the stage, “vintage porn” was projected, though I liked Vin Grotto owner Kris Blondin’s description better: “Sloppy booby porn!”
On many other televisions, various sex-charged images were flashed, and then there it was: “The Volcano.”
Heee.
Turned out, the Volcano represented at the Tempest, and my friends, including Kris, culture babe, Patty, Emily and I shared a table with Pappi Swarner, Brad Allen, their muy caliente dates, Natasha, Julie, Tabitha, new friend Kake, old friend Houston, and many more new friends than I have virtual ink to mention. With so much love surrounding me, I had to steal the moment as mine, mine, mine, and celebrate my b-day two days early.
Patty wanted to go see if he could find a couple of cute boys to look at, so we went off to Club Silverstone before last call — man, are they serious about last call being The Last Call — hence, we only stayed a wee bit before heading out to after-hours it up at Roland and Cheri’s.
Such a good end to the night!
You know it’s truly late when Teddy Haggarty has been tucked away to bed in the bedroom nook-bed and you’re still standing; Tab took me home and I hit my own pillow with a smile on my lips as I whispered, “I heart Tacoma.” — Jessica Corey-Butler
So ya wanna know where I was considering going, based on my V-Day for One article this this week's Weekly Volcano (the whole issue has tons of V-day ideas)?
Dancing? Probably not for me, but if I did go, I’d go to Club Silverstone. It’s got exactly the right vibe for me: come as you are, and we’ll play the music that makes you shake it.
Dining? For a nice intimate (it’s all about me! Me! Me!) dinner, I’d take myself to Babblin’ Babs, where I wouldn’t have to feel conspicuous and eat fabulous food. If I was feeling swank, the bar at either Sea Grill, or El Gaucho could make me feel superstar-like and posh for the night of me.
Then again, dining alone, I can go for exotic, eating the types of food the significant other doesn’t care for. Indochine, East West Café, or DjembeSoul could be fun and yummy, or I could go Indian: that being the case, it would have to be Gateway to India.
Or, alternately, I could go further up Sixth Ave and try to decide between Asado and Masa.
Or, I could go the “sip and light bite” route, where my top choices would be either the Matador’s happy hour (though that smells suspiciously like…umm…a singles’s place) or happy hour at the Pacific Grill. Possibly, Paddy Coyne's would be where I’d end up, though more likely, with my wine-lovin’ self, I’d end up at Vin Grotto getting’ my cheese on.
Then again, Enoteca has a cheesy wine-lovin’ intimate vibe that could be conducive to my “I love me” night, but in all probability, if it’s all about me and what I love, then the evening probably has to entail at least one visit to Tempest Lounge.
In all probability, my evening of me, for me, by me, will be all about culture. Though I would love to see TAG’s “Proof” (and will, on the Saturday following V-Day) I think “romance” for me will need to be all about the Spanish cello/singing stylings of Cello Octet Conjunto Iberico. That event, followed by a nibble and a sip, will be the best way to let me know how much I love me, and the best way to get swept away my the heady emotion of it all.
Will I be my Valentine? Yes, please! — Jessica Corey-Butler
Even if you knew nobody at Tacoma's Monsoon Room at the "Parfait Amour" event last night, you couldn’t help but meet and mingle in the intimate space; even if you didn’t drink wine, you couldn’t help but find one to love; and even if you were a jewelry minimalist, you couldn’t help but ooh, ahh, and covet.
Of course, I did see several of my favorite people, I do drink wine, and I do love jewelry (though I don’t wear much of it) so in my eyes, the event was an unqualified success.
Owner Laura Malone was stunning in her retro red strapless frock as she shopped through the jewelry by Lisa Kinoshita and Rebecca Aldrich. The pieces by Kinoshita had a edgy organic feel, while Aldrich had a storyteller’s aesthetic with surprising twists. While Kinoshita played with scale and natural materials like horn, stone, and metal, Seattle artist Aldrich played with whimsy; birds doubled as clasps, while rings served as pincushions. As different as the pieces were, each artist’s work complimented the other’s.
And while Aldrich and Kinoshita’s wearable art was appreciated, it was the wine and background music that made the event soar. Ty Cline of Unique Wine Company showcased a great flight of wines ranging from the Fantinel Prosecco from Italy, to the Roshambo “The Reverend” Zinfandel from California, to the Marenco Brachetto d’Aqui (“best served with strawberries and chocolate!” recommends Cline) and lastly, the Deco Chocolate Port (mmmm!)
And the perfect backdrop to this chocolaty glam event was music spun by Chris Oglesby, a musician with an impressive vinyl collection, largely courtesy of his father. He spins Wednesday nights from 9:30 p.m. to midnight at the Monsoon Room, when you can try the Rock Paper Scissors Mertlot tasted at the event as well as the Fantinel Prosecco for yourself. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The first thing you should know about Desiree Flerchinger is that she can seriously shake her groove thing.
While her artistic talent shines through her work, like in the pieces hung at Syren Lounge right now, her booty-shaking aptitude isn’t something you see until she hits the floor.
Unfortunately, at her artist’s reception at Syren last night, she wasn’t really given a chance to shake her thing much, after being given the boot to make room for some “VIPs.”
That didn’t impress me much. But what did impress me was the quality of the work I saw. There was a diverse selection of pieces that showed her saucy, whimsical side. The paintings also showcased her innovative technique: in “The Servant” she utilized tiny glass beads and Austrian crystals to achieve a luminous effect not readily seen by the lighting in the space; “Carys Scribble,” based off of a scribble created by a niece showed her rebellious side (she mixed acrylic and oil paints to achieve the texture on that piece); and then there were the pieces like the bright image seen at all the Glass Roots Festival, with grommets containing embedded mirrors.
“I don’t want people to be bored when they see my artwork,” she explains.
Boredom didn’t touch the rest of the night with Flerchinger, though: after a shoddy explanation about the VIP mix up (I’m pretty certain I heard something that sounded like, “$500 dollar table” and “We didn’t think you wanted to stay late and hang out with these young people,”) Flerchinger rallied up the gang and shifted the party to Club Silverstone.
There, serious merriment ensued.
The last thing you should know about Desiree is this: if you go out dancing with her, prepare to dance. She will accept none of your pansy-ass “my feet hurt,” or “I’m just not a dancer” excuses — She will drag you out and force you to have fun.
You can meet her for yourself on March 2, when her new show opens at Jazzbones; there you can see other types of dancers challenging the concept of “stage” and judge her impressive artistic talent for yourself. — Jessica Corey-Butler
The Rialto was not packed last night when Dar Williams hit the stage, but what the crowd lacked in numbers it made up for in magic.
Kellee Bradley, opening for Williams with a strong, sure voice and some powerful writing, warmed the crowd up with a Kleenex-worthy song about a dying mother and a few sweet ditties about love. In the break between Bradley and Williams, I heard a reflection that Bradley’s “happy songs” weren’t that much cheerier than the sad ones, but one kind of expects that sort of wistful contemplation when one gets a girl together with her acoustic guitar, stripped down to her floral dress and boots.
And then, one throws ones expectations out the window when Williams comes on stage.
The crowd of loyal fans, quite a few of whom traveled from outside of Tacoma to see the show, made a raucous noise that seemed to please Williams, who mentioned her last gig in Tacoma, at the “Electric Coffee Shop?”
While she wasn’t quite sure of the name of the Antique Sandwich Company, where she had played an open mic in 1994, she was sure of her first notes, on the song “Calling the Moon.”
She went back in time for the song, “If I Wrote You,” and then lightened the mood considerably with her “Teen for God,” which was written with the aid of her good friend, a Jewish girl whose parents had misguidedly sent her to Christian horse camp year after year, “It was before Google,” Williams explained.
And it was at this point, Williams showed why her fans are as loyal as the woman next to me from Redmond, who told me, “I’ll go just about anywhere to see her.”
See, the thing is, Williams is smart as hell. And she has a cynical sense of humor that is sweetened by compassionate overtones, and mixed in with an obvious dose of vocal talent (and she ain’t half bad on guitar.) Throw in a smattering of cultural editorial, and you have a cerebrally enticing evening. Add to the mix, soaring, mournful, comforting notes blending poignant observations of innocence, childhood, love, and nature, and then add between-song dialog that could have stood alone as engagingly honest stand-up comedy, and you have an amazing show.
This show built up in intensity as she sang a cover tune. She suggested her aim was to take a great song and “un-swath it of its guitars,” and give it some girl-power; the song was “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd, and as she sang it I felt the “disembodied voices that are parts of yourself” that she referred to in its introduction.
I felt other disembodied things within myself surface through the course of the show: through the magic of Williams’ voice, pent up emotions emerged that I hadn’t even realized had been pent. Yeah, I cried. Several times. Once was during her ode to the Babysitter, where Williams expressed a love, admiration, and understanding framed through the eyes of a kid enthralled by the coolest sitter, ever. Another time was “February,” a desolately optimistic look at the longest month of the year.
But I laughed, too. Williams’ oratorical talents buoyed me several times, especially as she talked of hanging with old-school rocker dudes who have “explored the world, pharmaceutically,” as well as having “worn tights.” These are the dudes on the plane who will whip out pictures of their daughters and turn to mush in a split second.
And then I laughed and cried, like in “The Christians and the Pagans”, a hysterically sad look at a family that’s been torn by fundamental differences, that’s being patched together again.
Here, I found the theme of the evening: “You find magic in your God, but we find magic everywhere.”
In that theater, magic was on the minimalist stage. Magic was in the good friends like Cheri, who brought me up to a killer seat. Magic was in the new friends, and favorite friends I talked with, and in the people I observed all around me.
Magic was in the three encores Williams graced us with, and magic was in the lightness of step we walked out on.
The music and words were like a magical balm to a collective soul that floated out of the theater soothed, spent, and sated.
And it was good. — Jessica Corey-Butler
As a matter of fact, the "Rock and Roll Craft Show" is not the latest thrash-punk, power-pop musical sensation to wander out of a condemned Tacoma garage. According to York Sandifer, one of the founding godfathers of th