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Archives for May 2008

The New York Times talks about gentrification in Portland

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On the front page of the Times, under the heading Portland Journal, William Yardley’s article Racial Shift in a Progressive City Spurs Talk discusses gentrification in Portland.

PORTLAND, Ore. — Not every neighborhood in this city is one of those Northwest destinations where passion for espresso, the environment and plenty of exercise define the cultural common ground. A few places are still described as frontiers, where pioneers move because prices are relatively reasonable, the location is convenient and, they say, they “want the diversity.”

Some local, and not so local, commentary on this article:

What is the first concert you ever went to in Portland?

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Alices RestaurantYesterday Feministing and Matthew Yglesias asked the more general questions “what is the first concert you ever went to?”, which elicited numerous cool and a multitude of embarrassing and amusing answers.

I figured this would be a good question to steal borrow for my blog, but since my blog is about Portland, I’ll ask:

What is the first concert you ever went to in Portland?

I’ll go first.

Back in 1987 I saw Arlo Guthrie perform at the seminal, though now defunct, Pine Street Theatre. The version of Alice’s Restaurant he sang at that show included snarky verses about the Iran Contra scandal.

Throughout high school I saw several shows at the Pine Street, and then later at the legendary X-Ray Cafe (most notably my friend Ryan’s band Hog Wild).

How about you?

(I guess readers who have never been to Portland or have never seen a show in Portland can share their first concert ever.)

A star is born, Portland-style

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The cover story in today’s Pacific NW magazine is about Portland’s film industry.

The usual suspects, Gus Van Sant, Will Vinton, and Todd Haynes appear, but Tyrone Beason focuses mainly on the Portland itself and how it appeals to independent film makers.

Portland’s got the mountains and rivers, big buildings and rain-slicked streetscapes, too. But what’s put the city on the movie-industry map has much more to do with a full-throttle, indie spirit fueled by industry devotees who seem not to care much about fame, fortune or the whims of the outside world. A deeply personal passion for the medium drives them as much or more than the commercial viability of their work.

Read the whole article:

Gritty and gorgeous, Portland is making it in movies

The psychogeography of my commute

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mycommute.jpgI walked to work Tuesday, May 20th. It was perfect Portland walking weather. It wasn’t chilly, so I didn’t need a hat, and the wind was slight, so the rain came straight down, onto my umbrella.

Rain after several days of sun makes Portland smell, for the most part, wonderful. In my neighborhood I smell earth, then trees, then flowers, then fresh baked cinnamon rolls. There is a mysterious manure smell under the tentacles of the Fremont Bridge, but that soon passes. I hardly notice the odor as I’m overwhelmed by the roar of the freeway.

It might be my imagination, but cars seems slightly more respectful of pedestrians in the rain. Cyclists never seem too concerned with pedestrian right of way, but there are a far fewer cyclists to contend with on rainy days.

Widmer‘s not brewing this morning, or at least not belching steamy clouds of malt sweetness into the air.

The walk along Interstate is not especially pleasant, but at least, due to the Max tracks down the middle, I only have to contend with traffic coming from one direction. At N Tillamook, if I’m waiting my pedestrian turn to cross, and a train approaches from either direction, I get a bonus, out-of-sequence cross signal. This is one of my favorite pedestrian pleasures.

I veer up the slight incline to Larrabee. As it flattens out, past the grain silo on my right, the West Hills come into view. Clouds cling to the green curves. The Broadway Bridge is very red.

It’s election day. The big concrete island on the east end of the broadway bridge hosts folks with signs advertising their favorite candidates. I’m not sure why they’re so intent to get cars to honk at them. Plus I voted weeks ago.

The river is high, and roiling, with swirling swathes of debris.

On either side of the bridge I cross over train tracks, but there are no trains this morning.

There are fewer cyclists due to the rain, and none try to run me over at west end of the Broadway Bridge when I cross Lovejoy. This is another simple pedestrian pleasure. In a year of walking this route daily, I can only recall one cyclist turning onto Lovejoy actually stopping for me in the crosswalk. To be fair, cars with drivers on cell phones turning onto Lovejoy from Broadway often ignore the red light and “No turn on red” sign. They recklessly cross the cyclists’ right of way, and mine.

As I head down the Broadway ramp, Union Station strikes its postcard pose. The post office on my right doesn’t warrant a postcard.

At Burnside exhaust is the predominant aroma. I’m more awake now, vigilant of turning cars trying to run me over as I cross with the signal.