Author: Regina Carillo
Downtown Seattle felt different that night. Public Display Art was celebrating its fifth anniversary at 110 Union St., right in front of the Seattle Art Museum, and the moment I arrived I felt something unusual. A suited gentleman opened the door for us, my name was found on the guestlist, and people in the elevator immediately started making conversation. It was small but meaningful, the first sign that the night would feel open and welcoming.
Bottom floor at Public Display Art anniversary celebration
Inside, it felt like we had walked into paradise. There was a table overflowing with snacks. There were hotdogs and every topping you could imagine, from caramelized onions to flaming hot Cheetos. Even as a vegetarian I felt included because they had tofu sausages waiting for us. Nearby was a DIY shaved ice station with many different flavors. I was praised for my scooping technique. A staff member looked at my hibiscus-lemon-strawberry creation and declared that if there was a competition I would have been the winner. A huge cake read Public Display Art, surrounded by brownies and popcorn. The DJ was playing upbeat classics that no one could resist.
Me and the celebratory cake
The dress code was dress to impress and everybody embraced it. People wore satin gowns, embroidered blazers and even bright wigs. Every color. Every texture. Every personality on full display. People were dancing, laughing and exploring two floors filled with art. And what truly stood out was that everyone looked like they were actually having fun. People were talking to each other, looking at art and sharing stories. Not one person was glued to their phone.
There was a moment when publisher Marty Griswold took the microphone to thank everyone for reading the publication and for being part of this growing community. It felt intimate. Honest. The kind of moment that reminds you why ward work matters.
Seeing everyone so engaged made me feel comfortable enough to dance by myself. It reminded me of the energy of a party in Mexico where everyone knows each other and where familiar faces feel like home. I kept seeing people I had met in other events and it all made sense. For a year I had been immersed in an online world, unaware that this parallel universe of artists, storytellers and makers existed in this city. I entered a new world that night.
The event itself was unique. It was by invitation yet you could also stumble upon a golden ticket hidden in the latest edition of the publication. It created a sense of luck and magic. A feeling that being there was a prize. Public Display Art has always been a free print publication offering Seattle artists a voice and a platform. That mission was alive in every corner of the venue.
One of the most powerful moments was when Rhea Melina read her work aloud. Her words came straight from the heart. She spoke about being an artist as both a blessing and a curse. Only artists could truly understand that contradiction. She spoke with the kind of depth that quiets a room. And then she invited us to make today a holiday. I still think about that.
Rhea Melina reading some of her work to the audience
Throughout the night we spent time with my friend Maria and one of her friends. It felt great to comment and share thoughts about the artworks, some of which I have featured in my own publication The Weekly Art Update. Until that night I had only encountered them online so seeing them in real life felt really special. I became a child again, pointing and naming every piece I recognized.
Me, my shaved ice, and Jake Prendez’ “Piñata Party”
I left with a simple realization. The community I have been looking for already exists. I just needed to find my place in it.
This event mattered to me because it made me feel included in this city. It showed me what a community looks like. It showed me that Public Display Art has built it and that is possible. That people in Seattle can be friendly. That connection can be immediate when it is rooted in something we love. From classical oil portrait painters to musicians to technologists, we all call Seattle our home.
If I could leave readers with one message it would be this. Connection is here. The community is here. The artists of Seattle are here, growing, experimenting and celebrating one another.
I would be honored to return next year and I hope to keep recognizing familiar faces, each of us finding our place in this creative family.
Regina Carillo | Music and Arts Reporter