The Seattle Post-Intelligencer’s Regina Hackett reported on Saturday that Linda Farris, once Seattle’s premier gallery owner and for decades the city’s first and foremost art personality, died on Friday after a two year struggle with cancer.
I remembered one day a few years ago walking down the street with a friend of mine when an unusually-looking woman walked briskly by us. After I said hello to her and she replied in kind without slowing down, my friend – who was not an art person -- turned to me and asked “What was that?”
This determined woman -- with her curry-hued hair, faux-fur coat resembling some unknown, yet-to-evolve mammal, shiny purple boots, dangerously low-cut lycra top and tight leggings decorated with patterns that appeared to have been lifted from the Alhambra -- required some explanation.
And just how does one explain Linda Farris to the uninitiated? In a city woefully short on flamboyant characters, she always stood out. Without her dynamic personality -- combined as it was with her business savvy and spot-on artistic judgment -- it is simply not possible to imagine Seattle’s vital art scene today. Try imagining your Perrier without the fizz.
Farris opened her Pioneer Square gallery in 1971 and soon ushered in an exciting new era in Seattle’s cultural life. While most galleries represented older artists associated with the Northwest School or University of Washington faculty, she sought out a new generation of artists, many of whom had recently graduated from the University of Washington School of Art. The group -- Dennis Evans, Nancy Mee, Norie Sato, Sherry Markowitz, Peter Millett, Mary Ann Peters, Jeffrey Bishop, Randy Hayes, Andrew Keating, Ginny Ruffner, and Ann Hamilton -- would become very familiar to Seattleites. Not only were they widely shown and collected, many of them also went on to receive large public art commissions that will be with us for some time.
In subsequent years, Farris brought distinction to her gallery by showing big-name artists such as Louise Nevelson, Robert Rausenberg, Andy Warhol, Chuck Close, Alice Neel, Eric Fischl and Alex Katz. At a time when there were few venues to see this sort of work in Seattle, Farris played a crucial role in exposing its citizen’s to it.
By the time her gallery closed in 1995, its best days were behind it. But Farris soon returned to the scene, as strong as ever, with her Contemporary Art Project. Drawing together a group of intellectually-minded members who each contributed $15,000, the CAP Project -– under her tutelage -- collected works by young, up-and-coming artists from around the world. Most of the CAP Project artists -- a list that includes Kim Dingle, Zhang Huan, Sue DeBeer, Cecily Brown, Deborah Mesa-Pelly, Inka Essenhigh, and Brad Kahlhammer among others -- have gone on to art world acclaim. After rotating through members’ homes, the works were donated to the Seattle Art Museum, which did not have much in the way of contemporary art in its holdings and had shown little inclination to add to its collection.
As Hackett astutely points out, Farris’ most significant and lasting contribution to Seattle may well be the development of the art culture of Pioneer Square, a key factor in its subsequent revitalization. While the neighborhood -- with its unique blend of contemporary art galleries, artist studios, architectural firms, Internet companies, advertising agencies, and independent retailers -- is regarded today as the cultural heart of the city, this was not always the case.
For people not around at the time of Farris’ arrival there, it is difficult to describe how bold and forward thinking a move this was.
In 1971, Pioneer Square was comprised primarily of dilapidated buildings that housed either flop houses or factories that produced clothing and outdoor gear. Going to visit the Lasley Knitting Company on the 4th-floor of the Washington Shoe Building with my father as a boy was a completely different experience than having coffee at the Zeitgeist today, watching crowds of people partake in the ritual known as the First Thursday Gallery Walk.
It would be hard to underestimate the role that Farris’ passion for art and overriding sense of fun had in shaping the character of the place.