Remembering Jon Strongbow

Our friend Seattle artist Jon Strongbow passed away suddenly in December.  His family has organized a memorial for him this Tuesday afternoon at Pike Place Market, where he sold his art for a long time and lived in an artist's space the last couple of years.

We had been friends of  Jon's for more than twenty-something years and held him in the highest regard.  We met Jon when we had a retail store on Pike and we sold his publications, which we continue to do in our online store  He used to live up the street from us in Madrona and we would often see him biking up the hill on Union in front of our house, and he would regularly stop by for visits in our front garden or back balcony during the pandemic. 

Masks Required

He was a lover and collector of books, especially comics, graphic novels, and sci fi,  and always showed up at our summer outdoor book sale, leaving with bags of books balanced on his bicycle handles.  He often asked us to order books for him he found online because he didn't have a credit card (perhaps distrusting banks?).  Jon was always friendly, kind, and upbeat.  My favorite quote from his book Ocean of Time, which depicts detailed, accurate cityscapes of Seattle with people from native cultures in ritual costumes celebrating life (the theme of all his work) is "Most people don't seem to understand or appreciate how precious & magical life really is." 

 

Concrete River

 

Jon was very supportive of other artists -- publishing a book on Pike Place Market buskers and a beautiful hardback book on local collage artists that came out just a month before he died called Northwest Mystic Collage that Sean and I are very pleased to be included in.

I can imagine Jon now as a spirit -- joining the masked native figures dancing and playing music in the streets of Seattle that he depicted in his artwork.

 

 Jon Strongbow and Kam (Pistil photographer) outside our front gate - both dressed as they normally are.

Here's Jon shopping for books by bike at the Pistil outdoor book sale.

Pistil Penthouse Premiere Party

Pistil Books had our first literary and musical event in our upstairs space (the Airbnb apartment mentioned in the previous post) this week and it turned out to be really fun.  Our format was an hour of music, food, wine and mingling followed by three readers, then more music as the party wound up.  Since our space was limited, all the guests were invited and we had a full house at about twenty people.

Thanks go to Kamposer and Moss Willow for providing the music, and to Kat Humphrey, Russell Scheidelman, and Stacey Levine for their readings.

Russell reading "Aphoristic Alibis." (Photo by Patricia Spencer.)

Here is Russell's smart and funny piece:


APHORISTIC ALIBIS

Assonance and alliteration, applied and aggregated alphabetically, archly assist an alleged
amateur author aggrieved at assembling aphoristic alibis advertised as art.

But beware--bystanders bemoan being besieged by blatantly belabored buffooneries borrowing
bookish buzzwords.

Catcalls can commemorate curiously contrived consonant concatenations.

Dandified dilettantes derivatively declaiming dubious "Debbie Does Dallas" dialectics deservedly

Enlightening eloquence ever eludes excessively ejaculated elocution effects.

Fastidiously following frivolous formalities fans furtive fantasies favoring foot flight.

Gullible guests, gathered gleefully, go gagging.

Heroic holdovers hover haplessly, hardly hearing.

Ignominiously injured, I issue immediate instructions invalidating imminently insufferable
idiomatic iterations, initially irreversible in intent.

KAMIKAZE KITSCH KEEPS KICKING!

Let like-lettered lexicon listings long lapidate lingering listeners loudly!

Meanwhile, my maniacally monotonous method, marching mechanically, makes me mentally
map many minefields menacing my mission's mad momentum.

Namely: narrowing name numbers, not now noteworthy, nevertheless nestle noxiously nearby.

Oddball occupants of oncoming orthographic outposts offer odious options or otherwise
obliterate orally outlandish opportunities.

Panic pervades Portlandia's potentially poorest pen-pushing poseur ploddingly pickpocketing
Peter Piper's peck.

"Quit quavering!" quibblers quip--quixotically.

Russell resumes reading: "Rotgut rivers regularly rinsed Rapunzel's Rastafarian rope-like ribs."

Something sinister somehow spoiled Society's simpler speculations surrounding several
Spanish strangers spotted Sunday slyly selling Superman's so-called sacred Spandex, slightly

Totalitarian teetotallers torrentially taught transformative truths that tenacious tipplers typically

Uhura University's unearthly undergraduates ubiquitously underwent unnerving urges up until
unanimously using up uniquely unctuous underarm unguents utterly unlike Uranus's.

V veers victorious: vociferously validating Vaudevillian verbosity, voluminously vaunting
vainglorious vassals, voraciously vacuuming Valentino's vast vocabulary.

While Washington wondered warily whether war was what Warsaw wanted, wordsmiths worried
wearily whether words were worth Wordsworth's while.

Xerxes xeroxed "Xanadu".

You yawning yet?

Zulita's Zionism ziplocked Zorro's zipper.

The view from the balcony at sunset. (Photo by Patricia Spencer).

More Noise Yoga Please

Starting this Wednesday, October 15, Sean will be teaching a series of yoga classes at Washington Hall accompanied by.... noise.  Poet Steven Jesse Bernstein's piece, More Noise Please,  inspired Sean's collage advertising these noise yoga classes.




The Stranger has a nice write-up, including the schedule,  here.