Anthropological Study at Growler Guys

 

10/8/25 Mariners watch party at Growler Guys, Maple Leaf neighborhood

“Whose logo is that – with the trident?” A man on the light rail pointed to the cap of another rider.

“Mariners . . . I think it’s newish,” the man wearing the cap replied.

10/5/25 light rail

The one who had asked was one of three guys sporting Buccaneers caps. Visiting Seattle for the Seahawks game, the men chatted with the Mariners fan about football, baseball, and where they could get good grub near Lumen Field, where they were headed. Since they were not directly competing, their conversation was cordial.

Recently when I spent the day with my niece’s family, we had lunch at a small café’s counter. Within minutes, my nephew-in-law had engaged in a lively conversation with the guy who happened to sit next to him – about Huskies football.

Although I have occasionally exchanged friendly banter with Cougs or Ducks (the University of Washington Huskies’ historic rivals are the Washington State University Cougars and the University of Oregon Ducks), I’m not a fan of any sport or particular team. Yet I have always been fascinated by the instant bonding that occurs around sports. Strangers on a light rail train who would otherwise never strike up spontaneous conversation have enough to talk about to last four train stops. What other subject or interest could possibly bring people together the way sports can?

Like an anthropologist, I decided to do an observational study of this human behavior. The Growler Guys in Maple Leaf held a watch party this afternoon for Game 4 of the MLB playoffs. The Mariners had bested the Detroit Tigers the day before, and now the same two teams were playing again.

When I walked in toward the tail end of the game, I knew the Ms were in trouble: The mood was quiet and subdued. Some patrons were already clearing their plates and glasses, getting ready to leave, though the game wasn’t quite over. Others commiserated quietly. The final score was 3 to 9 in the Tigers’ favor.

Sketching probably would have been more fun at the previous day’s watch party when the Mariners had won. Still, the temperature was 62 and sunny on the Growler’s pleasant patio, where I had a good view of patrons watching the big TV. As a neutral observer rather than a fan, I had a great time on what was likely our last summer-y day before the cold and rain arrived.

Quiet Sketch Reportage: Seattle Trees

 

7/23/23 Luma, a culturally significant cedar in Wedgwood, and an idle excavator on the adjacent property.

8/3/23 This healthy Douglas fir growing where 
a housing development will be built was cut down
11 days after I sketched it. Maple Leaf neighborhood.

While many of us may think that “sketch reportage” involves being in the trenches on a battlefield (as Richard Johnson, former Washington Post artist, became well known for) or participating in large public rallies, it can be quieter, too. This summer Gabi Campanario, editor of the online publication On the Spot, gave me an opportunity to report on a tree that had captured the hearts of Seattle. Named Luma by its supporters, the 200-year-old Western Red Cedar was slated to be cut down to make room for construction of a housing development.

I’m fortunate to live in a city where trees are a prominent part of the urban landscape, and I always enjoy including trees in my urban sketches (especially when utility poles, wires and other human-made features are involved). Working on Luma’s story, however, gave me a much greater appreciation for the sketch reportage process – that it’s much more than just the fun of urban sketching as I have always known it.

In addition, I learned much about my subject matter: Mature trees like Luma are being cut down at an alarming rate all over Seattle, especially in less affluent neighborhoods. Living a comfy, privileged life in Maple Leaf, I had understood the term “climate justice” only peripherally. Suddenly I was becoming aware of how much is at stake when trees that take a century to grow are eliminated from the landscape. The impact is socio-economical as well as environmental.

8/14/23 In the Roosevelt neighborhood, a resident had ordered this 100-year-old Deodar cedar to be cut down to accommodate a new plumbing line. Tree activists gathered on the morning of the scheduled cutting to raise awareness among neighbors.

Using information I’m learning from the organization Tree Action Seattle, I’m trying to sketch as many threatened trees as I can, especially those near my own neighborhood. The numbers are staggering – I can’t sketch fast enough, and sometimes I’m too late. But every tree I sketch has become an opportunity to express gratitude to all trees that silently provide service to all of us every day.

8/23/23 While technically protected by city code, a heritage yellowwood tree in Wallingford is in danger of being damaged during construction of a multi-level townhouse on the property. Fewer than 500 heritage trees -- of exceptional size, form or rarity -- still exist in Seattle.  

9/8/23 This redwood was planted in the 1930s by Green Lake Elementary School students. Fencing supposedly protects it from nearby construction activities, but the fencing does not comply with city code, and the tree's roots may be injured. City officials are aware of the non-compliance but are not enforcing the code.

9/9/23 Tree Action Seattle informed concerned citizens about this block of trees slated to be cut down in Shoreline. Unfortunately, I couldn't get there before the cutting. Fliers urging neighbors to voice their concern still hung from the stumps.

Maple Leaf’s Big Pumpkin

10/23/22 "Magnus" waits to be weighed as neighbors join the festivities.

The Maple Leaf neighborhood is not the kind of place where big things happen. That’s why I was stunned to hear that two neighbors’ pumpkins had attracted media attention: King 5 Evening had featured the humongous pumpkins that were growing next door to each other. The two gardeners had been having a friendly pumpkin-growing competition each year since the pandemic began. The one with the larger pumpkin this year publicized an event today to find out how much the pumpkin weighed. Kate and I decided it was an event worthy of sketch reportage!

Almost more amazing than the pumpkin was the huge crowd it drew. The two pumpkin neighbors had turned the weigh-in into a block party with beer and barbecue. Kids and dogs got their photos taken with the huge pumpkin suspended from a scaffold. Another neighbor walked around with a clipboard taking $1 wagers to guess the weight. The Maple Leaf community usually has an annual summertime ice cream social, but it didn’t happen this year, so neighbors were apparently craving an event.

Named Magnus, the pumpkin weighed in at 969 pounds! I had put my dollar on 798 pounds, so I was way off, although the scale was having issues, so it’s possible the weight isn’t quite accurate. But when a pumpkin is the biggest neighborhood event of the year, who cares about accuracy?

"Jack Skellington," the smaller pumpkin, attracted no attention at all, so we took our selfie with him.

You can buy Magnus' seeds and grow your own
humongous pumpkins next year.

Yesterday morning, I went to see where the pumpkin lived.
Magnus was still asleep in his sleeping bag.

I walked only 10 minutes to see the big pumpkin, but Kate drove up all the way from Renton! A dedicated sketch reporter.

Foggy in Maple Leaf

 

Fog can feel gloomy if it hangs around all day, but I don't mind if it burns off by noon.

I enjoy the challenge of drawing fog. It completely changes the way I see ordinary views. Fog teaches me how far away familiar things are. With nothing but tones and values, and most details hidden, those ordinary views seem fresh again.

On one morning, the sun appeared briefly as a flat white disc, then disappeared. I kept applying a light layer of graphite to the page, knowing that the sun would reappear. When it did, I pulled out my eraser.

The temperature on these foggy mornings was in the 30s and low 40s F. These were all sketched through windows in my house in the Maple Leaf neighborhood.

Rainy Trash Day

 

11/11/21 Maple Leaf neighborhood

On my way to an errand, heavy mist gave the morning a soft, muted look almost like fog, which I’ve had fun capturing in the past. By the time I finished my brief errand, though, the mist had turned to full-on rain. Undaunted, I pulled over anyway. After all, it was trash day in Maple Leaf.

The Story of One Maple

 

Oct. 27, 2021 Maple Leaf neighborhood

Our days of high winds and heavy rain did a number on many trees. When I walked around Green Lake today, I saw lots of newly bald trees as well as torn limbs strewn across the path.

I went to check out the same maple in the ‘hood that I’ve been watching: Just a few yellow leaves are barely hanging on. This is probably the last time I’ll sketch it this year, but if I remember next spring, I’ll continue this story of one maple.

Previous sketches are shown below.

Oct. 21, 2021

Oct. 12, 2021

Farewell, Reckless

7/22/21 Reckless Video in the Maple Leaf neighborhood

Greg and I have been renting movies from Reckless Video since the days of VHS more than 30 years ago. One night during those early years, the building where Reckless was a tenant burned to the ground (insurance arson was rumored). Not too long afterwards, Reckless rose like a phoenix across the street, and we continued to rent movies there throughout the DVD and BluRay eras.

A couple of years ago, owner Mike Kelley, who opened the store when he was 31, let his loyal customers know that he was operating in the red. Over the years, it had become increasingly difficult to compete with streaming services, and most video stores had closed years ago. Unless he had a turnaround, his shop would be going the way of the Beta format. Saddened and alarmed by this news, I sketched the shop, Seattle’s last family-owned video rental store. At the time, he had signs up that said, “Burn Netflix” and “The Internet is not a neighborhood.”

We didn’t think Reckless would make it through the pandemic, but it somehow managed to keep its doors open – until now. Mike announced in May that the store would be closing for good. In his farewell message to customers on Facebook, he wrote:

Reckless is where I met my wonderful wife Kathy and we started a home and a family for our boy Joe. The video industry held unprecedented excitement for the first 20 years. The annual conventions in Vegas (aka world’s best party) are where Kathy and I met stars like Leonard Nimoy, Mary Tyler Moore, Martin Sheen, John Voight, Dennis Miller, Jeff Goldblum, Ice T, Nina Hartley, and the Fourth Ghostbuster!

In addition to Reckless, Mike’s family owns the Maple Leaf Ace Hardware store next door. He donates all the ice cream bars for the neighborhood Ice Cream Social every summer and contributes in many other ways. He’s the kind of business owner who helps a neighborhood feel like a community.

Last month Reckless rented its last video (we still had a couple of punches left on our pass, so we sadly made our last rentals). It’s now open till the end of July to sell off its inventory of discs.

I decided to make one more sketch of Reckless before it closed, this time to give to Mike. That same day, we walked over to Reckless together and perused the shelves for the last time. We bought a stack of movies we haven’t seen, but mostly I wanted them as mementoes of Reckless.

Shown below are the sketch from 2019 and the first one I made in 2014.

5/5/19

10/1/14

Snowfall

 

2/13/21 Our backyard, Maple Leaf neighborhood

 After more than a week of dire warnings, the big snow finally fell, and high winds came with it. Unusual for this area, the flakes were small and dry; they fell continuously throughout the day Feb. 13, leaving a foot on the ground by nightfall. Temps were in the high 20s and low 30s. Grateful that we were warm, fully provisioned and with nowhere to go, last Saturday was a beautiful snow day.

Almost exactly two years ago during our snowmageddon, which lasted at least a week, I sketched through nearly every window in our house. This view through a window in our back “TV room,” however, was one I had missed. Not much of a view, but even our yard waste bin is pretty when covered with snow.

Early Riser

Across the street in Maple Leaf

Inspired by others who have been sketching at night, I wanted to give it a try. I’m more of a morning person, though, so I’ve been looking out the front windows of our house before the sun comes up.

When I first open the shades in the dark livingroom around 6 a.m., it seems like there’s not much to see across the street. But once my pupils have finished dilating, I am surprised by how much light there is.

Of course, now all our neighbors are putting holiday lights up, which are even more fun to sketch.

By 7 a.m., the southern sky (the direction our house faces) starts to get a bit coral-pinkish around the edges. I had been up for a while, anticipating the sky’s color on this rare clear morning, but I was waiting for my husband to get up so that I could open the blinds on our bedroom’s French doors, which offer the best view of The Mountain. When he was finally out of bed, Her Majesty’s silhouette was clearly visible (less so in summer when the trees are leafed out). As wispy clouds the same dark blue as Rainier floated by, I sketched like a madwoman trying to capture the sky’s hues before they disappeared.

Less than an hour later, the clouds had turned white, and Rainier had disappeared behind her shroud of mist as she so often does after the sun comes up.

The only thing to look forward to about these long nights (still growing longer for a few more weeks) is that I’ll have more opportunities to sketch in the dark.

Fleeting

 

Every year, I look forward to sketching the vibrant colors of autumn. It’s a bittersweet time of year because I know our too-few outdoor-sketching days of summer are over, and we’ll soon have months and months of clouds and rain. In the same way that the Japanese are said to appreciate the fleeting beauty of cherry blossoms, I feel the same about fall foliage: Its appearance is brief, and a strong windstorm could take down most of the leaves overnight.

Although I always go leaf-peeping by car through other neighborhoods, for this post, I chose only sketches I made within walking distance of my Maple Leaf home during the last two weeks of October. I haven’t traveled outside Seattle in more than a year, but I don’t have to walk far to appreciate this fleeting beauty.

Pink Disc, Yellow Sky

9/12/20 Maple Leaf neighborhood, early afternoon

Although we have our own deadly fires here in Washington State, the Seattle area has been covered by a blanket of smoke since Wednesday that originated with Oregon’s equally devastating wildfires. The smoke here is not nearly as thick as it has been in Oregon and California; photos and sketches of those areas show the sky as dark orangey-brown. Here in the Puget Sound area, the sky is more yellow than orange.

On Friday when I tried to look at the sun, it was still too bright to see with bare eyes, so I knew the smoke wasn’t too bad yet. I recalled the thick smoke we had two years ago from fires to the north, when the sun was an orange ball that was easy to look at with unprotected eyes.

Today the expected “super-massive plume” fully arrived. I kept looking for the sun, but behind the smoke, the sky must have been partly cloudy, because it was nowhere to be seen most of the day. I stood at our bedroom window in the early afternoon to capture the weird yellow light and low visibility. The “unhealthy” Air Quality Index was 185 (under 50 is considered “good”).

9/12/20 the sun is finally visible around 2:40 p.m.

By mid-afternoon, the clouds behind the smoke must have parted because I suddenly spotted the sun – a coral pink disc that, by contrast, gave the yellow sky a bluish-gray cast. Under any other circumstance, I would have called that pink “pretty.” It’s not often that I can sketch the sun by viewing it with unprotected eyes: Other than the smoke two years ago, the only other time was the moment of totality during the 2017 solar eclipse.

This smoke is terrible, but it’s not nearly as terrible as fleeing for my life as so many are from fires engulfing parts of the West Coast. I’m grateful to be safe. I’m grateful for all the firefighters working day and night to put the flames out.

Afternoon and Morning

8/22/20 across the street (Maple Leaf neighborhood)

Sketch the same view at different times of the day: That was the USk Talks Challenge that Shari Blaukopf had offered sketchers when she gave a USk Talk way back in May. I liked the idea and kept it in the back of my mind all summer, but I kept forgetting to do the same scene at a different time. Then yesterday, I looked across the street at the shadows cast by our neighbors’ planters on the lawn, and I suddenly remembered that I had sketched the same view in the afternoon a few weeks ago. It was an ideal opportunity to finally respond to the challenge.

Above is the scene in the afternoon, and below is the one I did yesterday morning. The afternoon sketch was leisurely on a lovely sunny day, but the morning one was quick: The air was still hazy with smoke from wildfires in distant parts of Washington State. I used violet and yellow to capture light and shadow as well as to evoke the strange color of the sky.

9/9/20

Houses of Maple Leaf

6/13/20 Maple Leaf neighborhood

A couple of years ago I began a series of sketches to document the architectural styles of my Maple Leaf neighborhood. Most were “portraits” of individual houses I found especially charming or that exemplified the various styles I see around here. I usually stood directly across the street, and on warm, sunny mornings, it was sheer delight (and extremely challenging, I might add) to spend close to an hour trying to capture these homes.

I continued the series last year, and my intention was to keep going this summer. But now I don’t feel I should stand on the sidewalk for an hour while pedestrians may be trying to get past me safely. Stepping 6 feet away each time I see someone coming is difficult to do while sketching.

I’m undeterred, however. I am taking notes on houses that face in directions that I can find safe spots to stand for a while. And I have also changed my approach to this series. The sketches do not all have to be color portraits as I have made in the past. Quick, small sketches also tell a story, especially when shown together.

Above are three small sketches I made while standing on the corner of Northeast 80^th Street and Fourth Avenue Northeast. Eightieth is a busy, noisy arterial that leads to the freeway entrance, so pedestrians rarely walk where I stood. Within 15 minutes, I simply pivoted to make each sketch. I’ll let you decide which one is not like the others, but they all tell the story of Maple Leaf architectural styles.

We’re All Still Together

Maple Leaf water tower sketched from my car on my way home
from an errand.

By far, the best part about Urban Sketchers is that it brings together people who share a common passion. Those of us who attend outings regularly have come to rely on the ongoing infusion of camaraderie, creativity and fun. It’s been very hard the past 12 weeks since our last sketch outing.

Missing my tribe, I was thinking about how our founder Gabi first began what eventually became the global Urban Sketchers organization. Long before there were sketch outings, this blog or the international symposium, Gabi had noticed that people around the world were doing something he enjoyed doing himself: sketching their surroundings from life. He knew this because he had seen them posting sketches on Flickr, the image-sharing website. Initially, Gabi created the Urban Sketchers Flickr group so that sketchers could easily find and view the work of like-minded people. That’s how it all began – individuals sketching in their own parts of the world and sharing online. That’s why sharing online became an important part of the Urban Sketchers Manifesto.

It’s going to be a while yet before we can meet again. Until then, Kate, Jane and I encourage you to keep sketching your surroundings from life and share your sketches online. We waited all winter and spring for the best sketching weather that’s just ahead! Let’s not waste it. Take a walk, stop wherever you feel safe, and sketch whatever you see. Go out in your car and sketch through the windshield. Step out into your own backyard, or simply look out your window. Show us your part of the world. We’re all still together, even if it’s only virtually.

Share your work and participate by viewing the work of others:

• On Facebook in the USk Seattle group
• On Instagram by using the hashtag #uskseattle
• On Flickr in the USk Seattle group

These thumbnails took less than 5 minutes each to make while on one of my daily walks through my neighborhood. Try it!

My World is Smaller, But the Joy Remains

4th Ave. NE and NE 85th St., Maple Leaf neighborhood, facing south

As I’m sure every other urban sketcher has found, sheltering at home is frustrating. Being outdoors for exercise and fresh air is approved of and even encouraged, so we’ve been walking daily around the neighborhood. That’s a pleasure in itself – we are discovering beautiful houses and gardens we otherwise never would have noticed – but I can’t stop for a sketch the way I easily could in my pre-pandemic life. The sidewalks are narrow in Maple Leaf, so if a pedestrian came by, I would need to step into the street to allow them space.

Facing east

Nonetheless, where there’s a will, there’s a way. I realized I could stand on a traffic circle to sketch and easily stay farther than 6 feet from any passing pedestrian, and I’m also safe from cars. I made these four sketches from the same traffic circle over the course of a month at about the same time of day.

Facing north

My world has gotten very small. Except for four sketches I made from my car, this intersection a few blocks from home is the farthest I’ve traveled for a sketch in two months. Staying close to home requires more work; it’s not as easy to find a composition that grabs me. On the other hand, when my expectations and standards are low, the shimmer of sunlight on a slender maple is enough to keep me happy. The joy of “showing the world, one drawing at a time” is the same, even when the world is a four-block radius.

Facing west

Learning to see

11/2/11 Maple Leaf neighborhood

When I first started sketching, I spent a lot of time looking at the work of other sketchers online, and one thing struck me right away. While I was naturally dazzled by the sketches of glorious cathedrals, monuments and other world-famous structures, what caught my attention were all the equally marvelous sketches of ordinary residential scenes. How are these people able to sketch an alley or parking lot and make it look fresh and exciting? What magical power do they possess that makes this possible? As a brand-new sketcher, I knew it would be a long time before I learned that magic, but I was eager to begin.

The sketch at the top of this post is one of my earliest urban sketches; it’s dated Nov. 11, 2011. Still too self-conscious to sketch from the sidewalk, I took my baby steps by sketching out the windows of our house. It would still be several months before I had the nerve to show up at my first Urban Sketchers outing, but my spirit was willing: I was driven to show my world, one sketch at a time.

Nearly nine years and more than 7,000 sketches later, I have sketched on four continents. My subject matter has included a few world-famous scenes, and it has also included many, many mundane, ordinary scenes.

During those years, I’ve learned techniques and approaches from excellent teachers, many at Urban Sketchers symposiums, that helped me refine and shape the style I use today. As grateful as I am to all of them, none handed me the super power I kept thinking I would eventually find.

It turns out that there is no magic, at least in terms of techniques or tricks. Any sketch I have ever admired – whether it’s of the Eiffel Tower or a fire hydrant; the pyramids of Egypt or a utility pole – was made by a sketcher who had observed so closely and fully that I couldn’t help but see what they saw. That was the “magic.” And it turns out that all those teachers did try to give me the super power I was looking for: Every one of them told me that drawing was about seeing. But I didn’t always understand.

Below is a sketch I made a few days ago. I still have a lot to learn, but now I realize that the most important skill I have to learn is to see. In fact, I now understand that as a sketcher, I have only one job: To observe so closely and fully that I can make anything look interesting, even the mundane. And by observing that closely and fully, even those things I see every day become fresh again.

(This post was inspired by Stephanie Bower’s #USkThenAndNowChallenge to look back at our own old drawings, share them and reflect on what we’ve learned since then.)

4/25/20 Maple Leaf neighborhood

Corona Hours

3/23/20 Maple Leaf Ace Hardware Store

I have a hunch that a full lockdown is close (voluntary social distancing wasn’t working, and even the current severe restrictions might not be enough), so I went out in my car looking for a way to document these crazy times before I lose that freedom. First I drove past my neighborhood Maple Leaf Park for any signs of closure, which the city had begun the day before, but I didn’t see anything from the street. Although a few people still walked around the park’s periphery, the playground was empty (last week we were dismayed to see it full of kids playing together while their parents chatted, just like normal).

A couple blocks north of the park, I passed the Maple Leaf Ace Hardware store (which I sketched from a better angle a few months ago). Its readerboard posted reduced “Corona Hours.” Staying in my parked car across the street, I wasn’t especially pleased with the composition, but tough times call for tough measures.

Out Again

3/16/20 Mt. Rainier from 5th Ave. NE overpass

Toward the end of my daily walk around the neighborhood, which has become my regular sanity saver, I took the route across the Fifth Avenue Northeast I-5 overpass. I was counting on The Mountain being out, and it was – a glorious, life-affirming sign that someday all will be well again.

I thought about the similar sketch I had made just about a month earlier from the same spot. At that time, I complained to myself about how the traffic was noisy and unpleasant.

We were so innocent then.