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I spent the summer of 1975 dragging a tacked-together wooden ‘hydroplane’ behind my bike in a small suburb in Western Washington. I was, in those days, obsessed by the coming bicentennial. Like everyone else that summer, I saw Jaws and then shuddered with dread every time I got near the water. We all watched the
About The W.A.F.A.L.
In due time you realize that every place is one place. Stay where you are; move if you must. It won’t change you. You will regret it either way.* You’ll still be you. You’re an animal, in an alien ecosystem, and you’re going to have to adapt. Can you?
This journal documents my attempt to adapt to a small town in North Central Washington. I welcome and celebrate artists who create with vigor, skill and intelligence, who embrace color, flavor and heat, who reject all pieties and prior restraints, and who are determined to dance like the world is ending no later than midnight tonight.
*HT Soren Kierkegaard: “Do it, or do not do it, you will regret it.”
The Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League 