Category Archives: General

It’s First Thursday. Do you know where your art is?

Tom Hardy in his Swan Island studio. Photo: Mark Woolley

By Bob Hicks

Good lord, it’s December. And it’s Thursday, the first Thursday of the month. And that means tonight is First Thursday in Puddletown, the city’s monthly art walk of mainline galleries. (There are other such monthly festivities, including First Friday on the East Side and Last Thursday in the Alberta District, but First Thursday is the granddaddy and reigning poobah of the crowd.)

If you’re adventurous and like to party, you can plot out your route and do your gallery-hopping tonight. If you’d rather skip the crowds but still see the art, don’t worry. Most of this stuff will be on display throughout the month, although in December you’ll want to be sure to check for holiday closures.

Mr. Scatter’s guide to this month’s art shows (incomplete, as always) is in this morning’s Oregonian. Don’t forget to check out sculptor Tom Hardy‘s 90th birthday-bash exhibit in the old OGLE space: November 30 was the big day. Mr. Scatter stopped by Wednesday evening’s preview/birthday party, and Tom was at the center of things, sitting down and grinning broadly as he greeted old friends and well-wishers, a few of whom were carrying just-purchased prints or drawings tucked under their arms. The exhibit, which covers several decades and includes a lot of the welded sculptures for which he’s best known as well as works on paper, is an eye-opener. Here in our midst was a genuine midcentury figurativist-turned-modernist, although a modernist in that quintessentially stubborn Oregon/West Coast way — an artist who has never crossed over completely to abstraction but retains reminiscences of nature, animal or mineral, in everything he creates.

And he’s created plenty. The guy was making significant art before most of us were born. Even Mr. Scatter, who is reluctantly contemplating joining the AARP.

Parisian artist Sophie Calle, part of "Body Gesture" at Elizabeth Leach Gallery.

FROM TOP:

  • Tom Hardy in his Swan Island studio. Photo: Mark Woolley.
  • Parisian artist Sophie Calle, part of “Body Gesture” at Elizabeth Leach Gallery.

Spreading out the fond memories

It's just a tablecloth to some people, but to us it makes Thanksgiving special.By Laura Grimes

More than a year ago Mr. Scatter’s parents moved to an assisted-living facility.

By then, the seven children were making choices for them and the parents weren’t sure where they were. The little cottage they had lived in was cleaned out.

A very few favorite items went with the folks, a few basic kitchen items and furniture pieces stayed, and the rest was spread out in the garage to sell. I’m not sure what because I wasn’t there.

All I know is that when I arrived a few weeks later by myself in the middle of the hot summer the place was an eerie ghost of its old self, empty and echoey. The familiar pictures were gone and the walls were a fresh new color. I immediately checked my feelings at the front door, knowing this had been a long time coming.

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A galaxy of recipes and remembrances

Gingerbread drawing that inspired "Star Pie," Small Large Smelly Boy, Nov. 24, 2001.

By Laura Grimes

A little-known blog fact: The Scatter family has a hand-made recipe book.

Nearly a decade ago, we started collecting our favorite recipes that went with some of our favorite food stories. We loaded them up in notebooks and gave them to our close family and friends for Christmas. It’s called Star Pie: A Galaxy of Recipes and Remembrances.

It got its name because exactly 10 years ago today I wrote down a conversation I had with the Small Large Smelly Boy, who was not so large and not so smelly at the time. In fact, he was downright adorable. He was 4.

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Cooking up steroids, I mean stuffing

By Laura Grimes

My mom is swimming her way south and the meat marathon has begun. Look what we got cooking on the stove:

Cooking up turkey broth.

We bought turkey wings just to make turkey stock just to make turkey stuffing just to go with Grammy’s turkey breast.

When Mr. Scatter asked The Meat Guy for “two turkey wings, one for each side,” the guy replied, “I don’t know if I can get you a matching pair.”

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‘You can’t do that when Grammy’s here!’

Norman Rockwell's "Cousin Reginald Catches the Thanksgiving Turkey" (1917), copyright 1917, The Country Gentleman and Curtis Publishing Co.By Laura Grimes

At the time of this typing, my mom’s ETA is 45 hours and counting.

The early missile warning system is now in effect. I repeat. The early missile warning system is now in effect.

In my last post, I promised a concussive blast. Reading on? Don your helmets! Duck and cover!

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License to thrill? Not really

The back of our poor little van at the scene of the crash in Hoodsport, Wash.By Laura Grimes

We back up our meat-centric blog for a little backstory. Mom’s coming for Thanksgiving and we got meat multiplying in the vegetarian-family freezer, but before I move on to the concussion blast and the traumatic brain injury these circumstances cause the Scatter Family, I first must explain our license plate.

We recently had to buy a new Large Smelly Boymobile.

Actually, let’s first back up to July 31, 2011. It was a gorgeous summer day. The Small Large Smelly Boy and I were driving our beloved van, LSBmobile1, from Port Angeles, Wash., where my mom lives, to Portland, Ore., where we live. Just to clarify, I was driving. The Small LSB isn’t even in high school yet.

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Freeze: We have a meat emergency

Turkey Lurkey is on the job in the "Chicken Little" book I had as a kid. It's blurry because I once left it in the rain. Pictures by Marjorie Hartwell. Thank you Whitman Publishing Company for some good times growing up.

By Laura Grimes

If you’re wondering about Mr. Scatter, he’s been busy with paying gigs so we can afford all this meat we’re cooking for Thanksgiving. If you read the last post, you know by now that even though most of us in the family are vegetarians, somehow we’re cooking both a whole chicken and a turkey breast.

OK. OK. No somehow about it. I’ll admit it. It’s all because I’m an advice column failure.

But forget that for a moment because we have an emergency. The meat in our freezer is multiplying. And we don’t even have the whole chicken or the turkey breast yet.

The freezer already contains several kinds of elk meat and antelope sausage (which Mr. Scatter fondly keeps calling “gazelle”), which we got in exchange for pickles. And now — hold your breath — we have a giant turkey. More precisely, we have 21.12 pounds of bird, or $35.69 worth. It was FREE.

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Meat: It’s what’s for dinner

"The Order of Good Cheer" by Charles William Jefferys, 1606/Wikimedia Commons

By Laura Grimes

My mom’s coming for Thanksgiving. I’m pretty excited. I’ve already talked her into making pie (it didn’t take much).

We have to get a turkey breast just for her, though. None of the four Scatterers eats turkey. We had a long conversation at dinner one night just to solve what to do about meat for Thanksgiving. The one carnivore in the house, the Large Large Smelly Boy, said he didn’t like white meat, and he wasn’t interested in turkey legs or thighs. He requested chicken. We dreamed up cooking a whole chicken, which is not a small thing in the Scatter house. We were relieved to have a plan, and even kind of excited. We could make stock, just like we used to. We could freeze it. We could make all kinds of things for the Large LSB. Boy, that chicken decided it. We were going to get the whole house cooking! Bring on Thanksgiving! Could it come sooner?

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Buried in more hedgehoggery

Lone Fir Cemetery/Wikimedia Commons

By Laura Grimes

After the first hedgehog/book club post went up, a super secret source sent me this story. I copied and pasted it here exactly as it was sent to me except that the names have been changed to protect the innocent, the guilty and the identity of my source. A background note: The source’s family had lived in a large rambly house before moving to a high-rise condo.

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Pickle swaps, hedgehogs & applesauce

The swappage haul. Impressive, no?

By Laura Grimes

Book Club was great fun.

After I wrote my last post, a book clubber discovered it and broadcast it to the rest of the group. Then the email trail went eerily quiet. This is not a quiet email group. It’s not overly communicative, but the stillness was … worrisome. Were they ticked that I ratted them out?

Nah. Everyone arrived and, reminding them we were to celebrate all things French in honor of our book, The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery, I immediately trained everyone in the double-cheek airkiss. They caught on fast.

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