Portland, OR
Tobacco, whiskey, cedar, pine, black pepper. Heather Sielaff’s Olo started in a closet, finds its ingredients in earth and smells like heaven. Ask a sweet-smelling thing on either side of the street in Portland what they’re wearing and the answer’s inevitably “Victory Wolf,” or just “Olo.”
Now Olo’s fragrance laboratory has an IRL home opening this weekend in Southeast Portland. It’s called Milk Milk Lemonade. Heather and Jonathan Sielaff are in the back, blending up bottles of god’s gift to nostrils. The front’s sparse and simple, with complimentary tea service to the side, and Olo’s whole habit-forming line front and center — all bookended by specially curated treats from Dream Collective, Rill Rill, Hazel Cox, Erica Weiner, No. Studio, Morihata and more. 
They’re opening house tomorrow, with occasional hours through the summer, and regular hours starting September.

Portland, OR

Tobacco, whiskey, cedar, pine, black pepper. Heather Sielaff’s Olo started in a closet, finds its ingredients in earth and smells like heaven. Ask a sweet-smelling thing on either side of the street in Portland what they’re wearing and the answer’s inevitably “Victory Wolf,” or just “Olo.”

Now Olo’s fragrance laboratory has an IRL home opening this weekend in Southeast Portland. It’s called Milk Milk Lemonade. Heather and Jonathan Sielaff are in the back, blending up bottles of god’s gift to nostrils. The front’s sparse and simple, with complimentary tea service to the side, and Olo’s whole habit-forming line front and center — all bookended by specially curated treats from Dream CollectiveRill Rill, Hazel Cox, Erica WeinerNo. Studio, Morihata and more. 

They’re opening house tomorrow, with occasional hours through the summer, and regular hours starting September.


Portland, OR
Dilettante’s not a word you’d normally conjure up to compliment. But there’s something in Stephanie Simek's restless digressions that makes the idea of artful inexperience seem kind of revolutionary. Her muse sends her headlong into arcane and circuitous studies of natural science — flirting with botany, circuitry, crystallography, electro-magnetics, phosphorescent algae husbandry — self-sufficient sojourns into worlds wading just deep enough for her exquisite purposes.

"Radio Room," a functional, gallery-sized crystal radio composed of copper, fool’s gold, steel and paper. 
Her work’s got a wide breadth — spread out across sound art, conceptual fine art, a fantastical jewelry line and most recently her own line of fragrances. She’s made circuitry triggered by the behavior of venus flytraps, quail eggs lined with gold, a room-sized radio made from copper and crystals, a strangely well-publicized eyelash necklace made from human hair and countless other curios. In everything, Stephanie’s tactile creations share a common curiosity with the wonders of the natural world — an imaginative distillation of scientific complexities into their most elemental forms. 

Necklace sculpted from the Mitsumata branch, traditionally used in Japanese papermaking. 
Stephanie’s latest departure is a forthcoming third installment of her fragrance line — her selenite fragrance. Made from plant-based essential oils, it evokes soft florals with mandarin and vanilla notes and is housed inside a unique selenite crystal, complete with silver spray top with cap.

The reception for her latest installation — “Sounds in 6 Cities" — happens tonight in Portland at PSU’s Littman Gallery, running now through May 28.

Portrait by Isao Nishiyama.

Portland, OR

Dilettante’s not a word you’d normally conjure up to compliment. But there’s something in Stephanie Simek's restless digressions that makes the idea of artful inexperience seem kind of revolutionary. Her muse sends her headlong into arcane and circuitous studies of natural science — flirting with botany, circuitry, crystallography, electro-magnetics, phosphorescent algae husbandry — self-sufficient sojourns into worlds wading just deep enough for her exquisite purposes.

"Radio Room," a functional, gallery-sized crystal radio composed of copper, fool’s gold, steel and paper. 

Her work’s got a wide breadth — spread out across sound art, conceptual fine art, a fantastical jewelry line and most recently her own line of fragrances. She’s made circuitry triggered by the behavior of venus flytraps, quail eggs lined with gold, a room-sized radio made from copper and crystals, a strangely well-publicized eyelash necklace made from human hair and countless other curios. In everything, Stephanie’s tactile creations share a common curiosity with the wonders of the natural world — an imaginative distillation of scientific complexities into their most elemental forms. 

Necklace sculpted from the Mitsumata branch, traditionally used in Japanese papermaking. 

Stephanie’s latest departure is a forthcoming third installment of her fragrance line — her selenite fragranceMade from plant-based essential oils, it evokes soft florals with mandarin and vanilla notes and is housed inside a unique selenite crystal, complete with silver spray top with cap.

The reception for her latest installation — “Sounds in 6 Cities" — happens tonight in Portland at PSU’s Littman Gallery, running now through May 28.
Portrait by Isao Nishiyama.

Portland, OR
The supplementary materials for Golden Retriever's Seer boast verbiage about otoacoustic emissions, inner-ear rectification and 11-limit just intonation — scholarly stuff that betrays the Portland duo’s conservatory-spawned approach to musical experimentation.
But for all of the syllables, it’s language that neglects the simple sonic beauty of the work they make: a submersive, electro-acoustic swell of analog synthesizer and manipulated bass clarinet, all recalling the classic explorations of American experimentalists like Raymond Scott and David Behrman. 
The record’s been out for a minute, but tonight they’ll be celebrating its release at Holocene. Have a listen to their elegant “Flight Song” here.

Portland, OR

The supplementary materials for Golden Retriever's Seer boast verbiage about otoacoustic emissions, inner-ear rectification and 11-limit just intonation — scholarly stuff that betrays the Portland duo’s conservatory-spawned approach to musical experimentation.

But for all of the syllables, it’s language that neglects the simple sonic beauty of the work they make: a submersive, electro-acoustic swell of analog synthesizer and manipulated bass clarinet, all recalling the classic explorations of American experimentalists like Raymond Scott and David Behrman. 

The record’s been out for a minute, but tonight they’ll be celebrating its release at Holocene. Have a listen to their elegant “Flight Song” here.


Portland, OR 

Tomorrow afternoon Oregon Symphony’s Artist in Residence and cellist par excellence Alban Gerhardt will perform solo at Ace Portland. Planted atop our cozy lobby’s coffee table, he’ll send the sound of Bach’s solo suites waving through the hotel for all ears to hear. Come as you are; free as air. 


Portland, OR
Portland sonic institution Mississippi Records has just re-issued Harry Smith's seminal Anthology of American Folk Music in its complete, original 1952 form. Like everything Mississippi touches, this four-part set has all kinds of love poured into it. The series is dressed in sturdy cloth-bound gatefold sleeves and housed in a hand-crafted wooden box; an object of serious beauty.
To celebrate the reissue of this still under-sung masterpiece, the label’s dedicating tonight’s Music & Film Series at Hollywood Theatre to Smith’s work and legacy over the decades, with Michael Hurley, Marisa Anderson, Dragging An Ox Through Water, Jessika Kenney, Lori Goldston and Jolie Holland re-imagining a set of songs from the collection. 
For more information on tonight’s event, visit Hollywood Theatre’s website.

Portland, OR

Portland sonic institution Mississippi Records has just re-issued Harry Smith's seminal Anthology of American Folk Music in its complete, original 1952 form. Like everything Mississippi touches, this four-part set has all kinds of love poured into it. The series is dressed in sturdy cloth-bound gatefold sleeves and housed in a hand-crafted wooden box; an object of serious beauty.

To celebrate the reissue of this still under-sung masterpiece, the label’s dedicating tonight’s Music & Film Series at Hollywood Theatre to Smith’s work and legacy over the decades, with Michael Hurley, Marisa Anderson, Dragging An Ox Through Water, Jessika Kenney, Lori Goldston and Jolie Holland re-imagining a set of songs from the collection. 

For more information on tonight’s event, visit Hollywood Theatre’s website.


Portland, ORINTERVIEW: DANNIEL SCHOONEBEEK
Danniel Schoonebeek’s poems take back roads and veins to an American place filled with secrets in your ear. Where the barn behind you is lit with the most eerie Gregory Crewdson-like light.  
Last Saturday Ace New York hosted Bound by Chance. Danniel wasn’t there, but his words were. People used them to make stories and bound those stories into pamphlets. Tonight, Danniel reads from his book in Portland at Crema Coffee + Bakery before he sails back home to Brooklyn. It’s going to be an after hours poetry party. 
You recently completed a poetry tour in support of your first book, American Barricade (YesYes Books). Independent musicians tour all the time to support themselves. What was the experience like as a poet?
When I was seventeen I left high school and toured in a van with four other guys. We were a band, I was the drummer, and we toured the country for a few months, living in the van with our instruments. What’s startling to me is that I did this again ten years later. This time I was alone, I was reading my poems and not hitting a snare, and I took the trains across America instead of riding in a van. The tours were alike in that they were both these depleting, chaotic bursts in which you learn more about yourself than you knew was possible. You aren’t working hard enough are the words I came away with when I was seventeen. Our last date on that tour was at CBGB’s, and there was this holy feeling like we’d arrived. But nobody gave a shit about our songs, not the bands, not the people. I think that experience taught me that you have to demand to be heard, like a list of demands is heard in a hostage situation, and that list of demands is work. 
The tour I just finished leaves me to this day with jubilee. In some ways it was like playing a chess match against my own life. I’d just been kicked out of my apartment, I’d just been laid off, the love life was in the gutter. I booked the tour myself, no agents, no help from my publisher. I needed to see if a poet could do it alone. Friends came out to read and see me off, let me sleep on their floors. Strangers opened their doors to me, handed me their keys, helped me hunt down venues. These people are part of my life now, and they handed me small tokens along the way, tchotchkes and mementos, a little scratch some nights. The trains are their own crash course in how much American disgust you can tolerate within yourself. If you don’t have the constitution within yourself to wash your hair in the sink on a moving train, or deal with drunks, or fall asleep hungry on a dinner of tic-tacs, don’t get on the trains. But there was something unbelievable about waking up on the train, feeling like shit, drinking a styrofoam cup of coffee, and watching the landscape of America peel away outside while you’re surrounded by all these families and drifters and bulleting your way to a poetry reading in a different city each night. It was like not being a citizen anymore. 
I’m finishing a book about this last tour and that’ll come out soon. I’m working with two editors who are challenging the work and pushing it in directions I’m thrilled about. I can’t say who yet, but it’s coming. It’s called C’est La Guerre. 
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The poems you write have a lovely ability to at once feel very intimate—even small—while also having ragged edges that touch on archetypes that deal with American culture and values. What’s your creative process when you sit down to write? Do you have an agenda? A guiding principal?
I try to always keep myself unsettled. I hate flying, so I work on poems while I’m a mess in the sky. Or sometimes I’ll wear nothing but a blanket and wake up in winter and write in the kitchen. I always write poems if I have a nasty fever, or I like to cast out lines aloud if I’m standing, never longhand if I’m sitting. I write a lot in bed, the classic pose, we all do. I would like to write a poem while hanging upside down from the lintels of a doorway. So my process is to always throw a wrench in my process. I’m opposed to regimens, culturally and artistically, because they fail to do justice to the changing face of what composes them. American ways of life, as our culture defines them, always fail the people who are actually living their lives in America, never nuanced enough and always leaving someone locked outside. In the same way, I think having any guiding principal about poetry is a failure to language, how nuanced language is and how fast it changes and disrupts us. I try to always undermine myself, disrupt myself, refuse myself. The terrifying part for me is that undermining yourself, disrupting yourself, refusing yourself—these are also regimens that need to be undermined, disrupted, and refused.

Portland, OR

INTERVIEW: DANNIEL SCHOONEBEEK

Danniel Schoonebeek’s poems take back roads and veins to an American place filled with secrets in your ear. Where the barn behind you is lit with the most eerie Gregory Crewdson-like light.  

Last Saturday Ace New York hosted Bound by Chance. Danniel wasn’t there, but his words were. People used them to make stories and bound those stories into pamphlets. Tonight, Danniel reads from his book in Portland at Crema Coffee + Bakery before he sails back home to Brooklyn. It’s going to be an after hours poetry party. 

You recently completed a poetry tour in support of your first book, American Barricade (YesYes Books). Independent musicians tour all the time to support themselves. What was the experience like as a poet?

When I was seventeen I left high school and toured in a van with four other guys. We were a band, I was the drummer, and we toured the country for a few months, living in the van with our instruments. What’s startling to me is that I did this again ten years later. This time I was alone, I was reading my poems and not hitting a snare, and I took the trains across America instead of riding in a van. The tours were alike in that they were both these depleting, chaotic bursts in which you learn more about yourself than you knew was possible. You aren’t working hard enough are the words I came away with when I was seventeen. Our last date on that tour was at CBGB’s, and there was this holy feeling like we’d arrived. But nobody gave a shit about our songs, not the bands, not the people. I think that experience taught me that you have to demand to be heard, like a list of demands is heard in a hostage situation, and that list of demands is work. 

The tour I just finished leaves me to this day with jubilee. In some ways it was like playing a chess match against my own life. I’d just been kicked out of my apartment, I’d just been laid off, the love life was in the gutter. I booked the tour myself, no agents, no help from my publisher. I needed to see if a poet could do it alone. Friends came out to read and see me off, let me sleep on their floors. Strangers opened their doors to me, handed me their keys, helped me hunt down venues. These people are part of my life now, and they handed me small tokens along the way, tchotchkes and mementos, a little scratch some nights. The trains are their own crash course in how much American disgust you can tolerate within yourself. If you don’t have the constitution within yourself to wash your hair in the sink on a moving train, or deal with drunks, or fall asleep hungry on a dinner of tic-tacs, don’t get on the trains. But there was something unbelievable about waking up on the train, feeling like shit, drinking a styrofoam cup of coffee, and watching the landscape of America peel away outside while you’re surrounded by all these families and drifters and bulleting your way to a poetry reading in a different city each night. It was like not being a citizen anymore. 

I’m finishing a book about this last tour and that’ll come out soon. I’m working with two editors who are challenging the work and pushing it in directions I’m thrilled about. I can’t say who yet, but it’s coming. It’s called C’est La Guerre

Read More


Portland, Oregon
Our friend Julia Gfrörer will be signing copies of her gorgeously macabre new graphic novel Black Is the Color tomorrow night at Floating World Comics. Julia’s funereal allegories are disarming in their austerity — bare-skinned and none-more-black tales of love and lust, all couched in quiet, dagger-sharp gallows humor. 
The signing marks the opening of Play Dead, a collection of Gfrörer’s work that’ll be on display through February 28. Black Is the Color is available now via Fantagraphics.

Portland, Oregon

Our friend Julia Gfrörer will be signing copies of her gorgeously macabre new graphic novel Black Is the Color tomorrow night at Floating World Comics. Julia’s funereal allegories are disarming in their austerity — bare-skinned and none-more-black tales of love and lust, all couched in quiet, dagger-sharp gallows humor. 

The signing marks the opening of Play Dead, a collection of Gfrörer’s work that’ll be on display through February 28. Black Is the Color is available now via Fantagraphics.


Portland, Oregon
Ace Hotel Portland is happy to host a night of art and revelry at The Cleaners this Sunday January 19, and all for an awfully good cause. Stereo Sound Agency’s Arthur Lindsey has put together a robust roster of local and national art luminaries for a silent auction to benefit Camp Starlight — a summer sleep-away camp for children of the Pacific Northwest affected by HIV/AIDS. 
With works by dozens of artists from Portland and beyond up on the auction block, the catalog’s got us checking on our checking accounts and chomping at the bit over pieces donated by Chris Johanson, Russ Pope, Rich Jacobs, Sage Corson (pictured above), Thomas Campbell, Lori Damiano, Aaron Frisby, and more.
Festivities get underway at 5 pm and run til 10, with free beer, wine, and hors d’oeuvres thrown in.

Portland, Oregon

Ace Hotel Portland is happy to host a night of art and revelry at The Cleaners this Sunday January 19, and all for an awfully good cause. Stereo Sound Agency’s Arthur Lindsey has put together a robust roster of local and national art luminaries for a silent auction to benefit Camp Starlight — a summer sleep-away camp for children of the Pacific Northwest affected by HIV/AIDS. 

With works by dozens of artists from Portland and beyond up on the auction block, the catalog’s got us checking on our checking accounts and chomping at the bit over pieces donated by Chris Johanson, Russ Pope, Rich JacobsSage Corson (pictured above), Thomas CampbellLori Damiano, Aaron Frisby, and more.

Festivities get underway at 5 pm and run til 10, with free beer, wine, and hors d’oeuvres thrown in.


image

Publication Studio hosts the fifth annual Publication Fair at The Cleaners this Sunday, bringing together makers, purveyors and admirers of printed matter in all its shapes and sizes. 


This weekend, designers took over the second floor of Ace Hotel Portland for Content, creating audible, tactile and scent-based installations and blowing our minds for the fourth year running.

Among the many noteworthy appearances were Bridge and Burn’s clean and classic clothing, Cloth and Goods’ indigo wares and Norwood hats, the latest and greatest project from the inimitable Antonio Brasko. Crazy Wind swept us away with swaths of Japanese kasuri textiles, and OLO Fragrance raised a tent among the pines in which we contemplated their dark and magical scents. 

Bobby Bonaparte of LiFT Label had a good time, too — “Portland is burning with creativity,” he says. “The vibe of Content remains fresh and underground.” 

  

Photos from Lavenda Memory, Jen Vitale, Shelley Buche and Angela Tafoya, respectively. See #content2013 on Instagram for more.


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