putt putt putt

Tuesday night, A and I rounded up some friends for a little "tee time" at the 4th Annual Holocene Minigolf Art Invitational. Each year, the organizers enlist a roster of artists, designers, galleries, and stores to build out their dream putt-putt holes. In past years, there have been 3-D fun houses, giant labyrinths, life-size atari games, and a whale with an air-jet blowhole that ejected your golf ball. People get seriously ambitious - it almost puts the Adult Soapbox Derby to shame.

This year, I'd say the course was even stronger and the holes were definitely more playable. One green was populated with fey garden creatures and over-sized, candy-colored radish flowers. Another was a modeled critique of our crazy car-culture and freeway system. Free pancakes (and self-esteem boosts) were served for every hole-in-one. And overtop of it all, they projected Caddyshack on the walls and hosted club-circuit regulars to DJ the festivities. It's that classic love-it or hate-it Portland event. You either embrace the self-aware, irony-laden quirkiness or end up muttering bitter things about the "creative class."

But if you're too busy wandering around sulking over hipsters, you might get nailed by a vicious windmill with its fast-moving ceiling fan blades!


And wouldn't that just be a horrible way to go? Getting a concussion from a salvaged-wood cabin covered in dream catchers and garden gnomes. Ha!

Even though most of my photos were drunkenly blurry (the tournament is held at a bar, afterall), I did manage to find one of my favorite holes online:


Everyone else was really into the mustachioed bunny, but I would have taken home that little Indian headdress bird in a heartbeat. He's like a lazy-eyed neo-hippie. Priceless!






You can see more (re: less blurry) photos on the Portland Mercury's website.

why an English mansion would be better than Portland in a blizzard

As the snow whips past the windows outside, we're just thankful for the internet. As long as the power holds out, we'll still have entertainment:

Seriously, though - who dreamed this collaboration up?

Thanks to Monitor Mix.

bold new frontiers...

Even though the current administration continues to defund our space exploration programs, at least other countries still have their priorities straight. Where would we be without science? With space-mutant cabbage bacteria, that's where.

Thank god for science.

gingerblaze of glory

A few weeks ago, my co-worker, Nancy, stopped by my desk with a flier in hand. A local art school, PNCA, was hosting a gingerbread contest (Rip City Gingerblaze 2007) and a team from Ecotrust planned to enter. Would I be interested in joining the team? Faster than you can say gingerhaus, I had agreed and even threw P's services into the deal. (I like to think that in speaking his vows to me, P intimated his cheerful willingness to go along with any hair-brained scheme I managed to hatch or get us into.)

It was another week before team Ecotrust had its first formal meeting, during which we accomplished roughly the following:
-We would make the Natural Capital Center.
-We would build it out of gingerbread.
-Some of us had gingerbread recipes that *might* work.
-We would need candy.
Beaming from what we imagined to be a thoroughly successful meeting, we all proceeded to tuck the idea into cozy corners way (way) in the back of our minds. Mine slept soundly there, snugly sandwiched between "learning guitar" and "writing a food-based memoir," until it was rudely awakened by Nancy's panic-stricken voice. The contest was a week away. We had not even begun planning (much less building) in earnest and Ecotrust's very reputation was at stake.

Meeting number two was frantically arranged, at which we accomplished the following (in summary):
-We would make the building in a 2:1 rectangular shape.
-Some of us would make gingerbread over the course of the week.
-We would gather to assemble the Natural Capital Center on Saturday, exactly one day before the deadline.
-We would need candy.

When Saturday arrived in dreary drizzle (this was the day the clouds let loose, signaling the most intense three days of rain I have yet to experience in Portland) I hoped for the rain to turn to a blizzard into which I simply could not venture. Unfortunately the weather, though irritating and more than a little wet, was not enough to justify playing hooky. I dragged myself to our gingerbread construction site and prepared myself for disaster - crumbling gingerbread, garish candy designs, total disorganization, even a food fight or two. I would have been happy leaving the event still on speaking terms with all of my co-workers.

In 7 1/2 hours, I was amazed by the transformation. Like the gingerbread, I was covered in many-colored frosting, seeds, wheat grass, licorice and bits of seaweed; but, believe me, I looked far worse than my architectural counterpart. Furthermore, we merry workers were laughing and joking, not arguing over the sour straws and jellied eyes. Towards the end of the evening, I declared without hesitation that this was, in fact, the best thing that I had ever done. Better than graduating college. Better than getting a job at Ecotrust in the first place. Better than our wedding? P inquired. Maybe. This pronouncement may have been induced by the thin layer of candy dust in the air, or perhaps it was pure exhaustion. Whatever the cause, there was something magical about that afternoon of construction and creative energy. I only pray that the magic holds on just a little longer and cements that gingerbread in place through to the end of the competition.

portland fauna.

Before we get too far, you probably shouldn't consider this to be anything at all like a primer on Portlanders. Just like this blog offers our highly selective take on what makes our Puddletown great, this is just our view of the folks we run into regularly around town. Look at it more as a heads-up for what to expect, a way to fit in with the locals. Or it could be a cautionary tale. Depending on your point of view.

Everyone in town has a project - most have more than one. Geeking out about your favorite obscure subject is de rigeur, as is indie craftiness. Projects lead to collaborations (because anywhere you go, you are bound to see at least three people you know from somewhere). Collaborations lead to grand schemes. Grand schemes lead to booze. Booze leads to food. That's pretty much the trifecta of local interest - discipline-defying projects, food, booze. And there is pretty much a festival for each of them. The best combine all three. That's why we headed out to the annual Adult Soapbox Derby (not adult like strip clubs - though in Portland, its not a bad idea to ask first.) Art cars careening down Mt. Tabor past throngs of jeering, drinking Portlanders. Some crash, others collapse mid-course, and some lazily roll down the hill (because they are shaped like taquerias).

But walking around, it is pretty easy to feel that Portland has embraced its stereotypes enthusiastically (while still maintaining a standoffish distance of aloof irony and too-cool apathy). Bikes, tattoos, beer, babies, dogs, hipsters (and a heady dose of d.i.y.-daredevil recklessness). Hell, in my mind, there are much worse stereotypes.


PDX Adult Soapbox Derby '07 from stumptownpanda and Vimeo.