Thank you to Mithun for cosponsoring ARCADE's website and e-newsletter.
It’s hard to know exactly what to call SuttonBeresCuller’s Mini Mart City Park. When Brendan Kiley wrote about the project for ARCADE in 2009, he also remarked on this challenge, ultimately deeming “sculpture” its best descriptor. At that time, the Seattle-based artist collective had leased a defunct 1930s-era gas station across the street from Boeing Field, and their intent was to transform the site into a temporary art intervention. In the ten years that followed, environmental testing revealed the property’s soil was saturated with petroleum and other hazardous materials; the artists also determined the original gas station building was unsalvageable. Such challenges would have prompted many to abandon Mini Mart City Park. Instead, SuttonBeresCuller has since turned it into something that more resembles a living, breathing entity. The now-permanent, community-minded cultural space that was finally able to break ground in 2018 cleans the soil on the land where its stands. It speaks to the Georgetown community it inhabits. And, it confronts its own history as a foundation for its future existence.
After purchasing the property in 2013, the artists began working with local architects goCstudio to design a new version of the site’s original filling station that could address the project’s full slate of needs. In the conversation that follows, Ben Beres and John Sutton of SuttonBeresCuller, along with architects Aimée O’Carroll and Jon Gentry of goCstudio, discuss how Mini Mart City Park evolved into the version expected to open by the end of this year.
Erin Langner: How has the design for Mini Mart City Park changed over the ten years it’s been in progress?
John Sutton, SuttonBeresCuller: It is still first and foremost an art space. It’s going to house exhibits, residency programs, things along those lines. But, Georgetown is a very small neighborhood; it only has about 1,500 residents. And, we kept hearing that the community wanted not only an art space but a flexible community space where they could gather for different events and meetings.
When we began talking to Jon and Aimée early on, a big question was how to make a small structure that harkens back to the original filling station, because we really wanted to reference the history of that site—to keep the footprint very similar and nod to its original gas station architecture. But also, how do we create a space that’s flexible enough to allow for art, community events and different things?
So, it became a building inspired by the original gas station, but it also has sliding walls, a courtyard, and a park that blends into the interior space. We’ll have a pivot window in this concrete, cavernous building that’s playing on what would have been the station’s drive-up window, but it will be a walk-up window. The front awning where the cars used to pull up and fill their tanks will become a very active public courtyard; when it’s raining, it’s a place to hang out. Because this is a new organization, there’s no existing model, so we wanted to build a space that can grow and change and allow us to figure out ideas as they come to life.
EL: There are aspects of this project that echo the Olympic Sculpture Park, another former brownfield site that’s been transformed into a space focused on art and the environment.
JS: Yes, the Sculpture Park was definitely an influence. There was also a hilltop in the original design that referenced Gas Works Park. Gas Works Park was the state’s first major landscape remedial project, which involved cleaning up all of the contaminated soil on the site, mounting it up and putting a cap over it instead of hauling it off-site. And, that hill became an iconic piece of Seattle’s landscape, where everyone hangs out and watches the fireworks.
Thinking about the remedial aspects drove our project for the first eight years. When we signed the lease on the property in 2008, we knew there was some residual soil contamination. We knew we wanted to address it, and we received funding to do some initial environmental assessment. But, we were initially thinking more in terms of creating a proposal, rather than going in and cleaning the soil ourselves.
Ben Beres, SuttonBeresCuller: I will never forget the day of the testing. I was kind of excited, thinking, we can get going on this. And then, when we turned the corner there was a blast of diesel smell. And we were like, Oh, shit.
JS: The assessment basically uncovered a plume of petroleum contaminants that no one knew was there. That led us to the history of the neighborhood—the spills and other upstream contaminants that were migrating through our site.
One of the proposals recommended to us was to remove the contaminated soil from the property and put in a 20-foot steel curtain that would basically let all of the contaminants flow around our site. But that would mean we would just create a clean island in an otherwise environmentally polluted area. That would have cost millions of dollars, and it wouldn’t have cleaned the soil; we would have just moved it from here to a landfill in eastern Oregon, a process that would have consumed more petroleum than we were trying to clean up in the first place. As artists trying to propose a viable model for how small brownfield sites can be dealt with, spending millions of dollars to not clean anything up was irresponsible on many levels.
So, we worked with environmental consultants to come up with the plan we have now. A second building will include an air-sparge and vapor extraction remediation system to clean the soil and the ground water that’s passing below the site. This system is pretty proven and reliable, but it’s not really used on small sites like this incorporated into the project itself. Usually it’s used on old landfills and big brownfields in advance of redevelopment, so this is new.
We will keep the system for the full life of the property because it will continuously be cleaning up the groundwater and surrounding soil. It’s not going to address the whole neighborhood, but it will improve groundwater that passes through the site. We also eventually want to incorporate solar panels and other things that will offset any environmental costs of Mini Mart City Park’s existence.
EL: Why was the filling station aesthetic so important to this project? How did goCstudio work with that priority?
Aimée O’Carroll, goCstudio: Originally, there was talk of keeping the filling station that had all of these different lives, since it had been part of Georgetown for a long time. We looked to some precedents at other filling stations that had been reused for all sorts of different things, and originally SuttonBeresCuller had been talking about this as a model for other gas station sites around the country. Even though it was determined that the building wasn’t staying, we wanted to keep that sentiment.
BB: The initial idea of using a filling station sprung from us being artists, looking for available space that was inexpensive. We realized how there are hundreds of thousands of derelict gas stations all around the country. We were going on road trips and finding them, and so often seeing these small brownfield sites that were abandoned. When the project began ten years ago, a lot of our work involved recycling, taking old space and making it new, so it just felt like a natural progression. Oh, here’s something that no one wants. How can we use it? How can we make this cool? How can we create art out of detritus and the bad shit that people have left behind?
JS: Originally, we wanted to keep the old gas station, but going through the permitting process, every avenue made the building impossible to salvage. So, how do we recreate something that reflects that old building and its historic use? It was iconic to the neighborhood. The main entrance to Boeing Field was right across the street. But, as the neighborhood changed and as Boeing Field expanded, they rezoned one side of street, so everything around us is now residential. The commercial district disappeared, but there’s still this remnant of what once was.
BB: And we’re watching everything in town get knocked down anyway. It’s a way to keep the tiniest bit of nod to the history. It’s not the same building, but it’s the same idea.
Jon Gentry, goCstudio: From an architecture standpoint, if you stripped the building away and had a black and white drawing of it, it’s very simple in the proportions, like the kind of work that we do. We wanted these elegant looking openings and clean lines, sort of like you’re carving out a front room, you’re carving out a courtyard. But we were also very conscious to absorb as much of the SuttonBeresCuller spirit as we could, to make this a truly collaborative effort. So that’s what led us to the current rendering. It’s interesting, we had another version that was done early on, and we totally had to revisit it because it ultimately didn’t feel right in terms of the architecture’s expression.
BB: Do you know what that was—what was off?
AO: I think the iconic vision of the gas station wasn’t quite as instilled in that version. And I think that became, as we worked together and talked more about it, much more of a driving force for how we were envisioning what this thing would be and its importance in Georgetown. And, once we started diving into it more deeply, we ended up with the larger covered space at the front, the more iconic signage and incorporating more opportunities where SuttonBeresCuller and other artists could add their own touches. The more we worked together, the more that came together.
JS: We’re being very intentional. We’re trying to create a space that isn’t just for an arts audience. We want people to discover something through the arts that they otherwise wouldn’t. It’s important to us that it offers and comments on many different things. There are the environmental issues, the remediation, the technology that’s being incorporated, and the native plantings from the Duwamish Valley that we are adding. We’re trying to create a project that is attractive and interesting to people from different backgrounds but also provides an opportunity to engage in other cultural experiences. So, somebody who came in to see an art exhibit might think about all of the environmental questions it raises and will want to learn more about the history of the Duwamish Valley.
EL: Do you ever think about all of the art that could have been made during the time you were tied up in the bureaucratic processes that were part of this project, or do you see it all as art?
JS: This project from the very beginning has helped define itself and our practice. We have become bureaucrats and lobbyists and accidental activists. And that’s just part of the process of making things—you just discover new avenues. We created an organization, we’re board members, we’re fundraisers. We’re all of these different roles.
BB: I also think this project might have kept SuttonBeresCuller together. It’s been 19 years since we started collaborating. There have been times when things had slowed down, or there were no sales, or things were frustrating, but then this project was still going. We owe it to the community, funders, Creative Capital, 4Culture, the King County Brownfields Program, the City of Seattle, ECOSS, the EPA and so many others—to all of these people and organizations who have been involved and really want it to succeed. So, we knew we had to stick this out, to be stubborn about it and make it happen.
We’re looking forward to some exciting ARCADE happenings on the horizon. Here’s a look at what’s coming up.
Issue 37.1, The Simulated Metropolis—Launching February 28
This February, we’ll be releasing ARCADE Issue 37.1, The Simulated Metropolis. Arts writer and curator Leah St. Lawrence has pulled together a compelling and beautiful feature highlighting artists, curators, and writers who use emerging technologies and social media platforms to carve out space for self-expression and community. The issue is a feast for both the eyes and mind, and our volume 37 designers, Rationale, have created a bold, modernist layout.
We hope you’ll join us on February 28, from 6:00 to 8:00 p.m., for our Issue 37.1 launch event at 9th and Thomas, a new project in South Lake Union. We’ll unveil the issue, toast the contributors, and celebrate the eventuality of spring.
ARCADE’s First Design Criticism Workshop
Design criticism plays an important role in our cultural ecosystem. It has the power to enrich and deepen our appreciation and understanding of our designed environments, objects, and systems. With this in mind, we’re very excited to present, in partnership with Hugo House, ARCADE’s first design criticism workshop. Taught by Professor Ayad Rahmani, the workshop will take place the weekend of June 1–2 and focus on narratives that produce fresh insights about our designed world. Registration will be available soon! Join us to brush up on your writing skills, gain new storytelling tools, and sharpen your ability to critically engage with all that is designed.
ARCADE’s First Book Publication—Gordon Walker: A Poetic Architecture
As enthusiasts of Northwest modernism, we’re thrilled to present ARCADE’s first book publication—Gordon Walker: A Poetic Architecture. Written by Grant Hildebrand and designed by Lucia|Marquand, the book will be released this July. As the book’s photographer, Andrew van Leeuwen, says: “It’s an apropos time to see Gordon’s work as a measuring stick for where we’ve been and where we’re going. There is a poetry in this work that has become a casualty to the challenges of doing architecture today. There are so many factors competing for an architect’s focus and bandwidth that sticking to a system of beliefs is more important than ever. This book is a road map of the architectural beliefs respected by many in the Pacific Northwest.” (There’s more insight where that came from; the aforementioned quote is from a longer conversation with members of the book’s team that you’ll find in our winter issue.) More information coming soon!
Thank you to Nussbaum Group for co-sponsoring ARCADE's website.
By Ron van der Veen
Photos by Nathanael van der Veen
… Ding dong the witch is dead
Which old witch?
Well, the wicked witch
Ding dong the wicked witch is dead …
I found myself humming this Wizard of Oz anthem over and over on January 11, 2019, the final day of the viaduct’s 65-year reign of terror on Seattle’s waterfront. For some, this day marked the end of a historic engineering achievement that significantly aided Seattle’s emergence as a world-class economic force. For others, this was the day their elevated, unobstructed, 50-miles-per-hour view of Mount Rainier died. And I am sure there was a vast demographic from West Seattle that panicked at the realization that their commute time into the Emerald City had just tripled.
Yes, there are a lot of people who will miss the viaduct. But with all due respect: it was a hideous monster that sucked the soul out of Seattle from the day it was initially conceived in the early 1930s. Ding Dong, the witch is dead …
As I noted in an earlier ARCADE article about the 520 replacement bridge, great cities of the world like Seattle merit wonderful celebratory portals. After spending so much of my professional life within walking and listening distance of the viaduct, I owe the new Evergreen Floating Bridge a huge apology for calling it one of the least-designed overpasses in human history. The viaduct comes from the same sinister DNA and is even worse!
A King5 television story from early January describes how one of the great Pacific Northwest modernist architects, Paul Thiry, felt about the viaduct when it was being planned. According to the Historic American Engineering Record, in 1947 Thiry prophetically stated that the viaduct was “… a horrible thing to do to a city … Forget building the viaduct and build a tunnel under downtown instead.” During the overpass’s design review by the city planning commission, Mr. Thiry and numerous other civic leaders vehemently urged the state and city to build a tunnel, redevelop the waterfront, and save the city from “an unsightly structure along our very valuable waterfront.” A bit ironic, isn’t it?
It is interesting to note that calls for the demolition of the viaduct came as early as the late 1960s. A commissioned study done in 1969 advocated again for the tunneling of Washington State Route 99 so the waterfront could be developed with parks and amenities. Variations on this theme persisted over the decades, promoted by a wide variety of stakeholders, and I imagine it doubled in price every time a proposal was considered. As one historian noted (also in the King5 story), this short innocuous stretch of highway has evoked "the strongest emotions—both positive and negative—of any roadway in the country."
Over a decade ago, as the Seattle Times reports, architect and civic activist Art Skolnik unbelievably filed multiple applications with the Department of Archeology and Historic Preservation to have the viaduct named to the National Register of Historic Places. Along the way, there have been other proposals to save all or remnants of the roadway as an homage to its place in Seattle History. I have always advocated treating it like the unified Germans' approach to the Berlin Wall: completely annihilating it and wiping it from our collective memory.
In a few years from now, we will finally truly appreciate the alternative vision that urban planners and city advocates expressed in the late 1940s. All those who love the Seattle waterfront are already reaping the benefits of not listening to the shriek of traffic and breathing air free from the poison of 90,000 cars per day (though some traffic will return when Alaskan Way is expanded). One of the most picturesque urban waterfronts in the world will finally be visually connected to our great urban core. There will be parks, links to the water, habitat restoration, salmon run enhancement, a multitude of wonderful pedestrian centered spaces. Sound almost too utopian? Think Emerald City!
As I walk along Western Avenue this afternoon with a now only temporarily obstructed view of Puget Sound I can actually hear myself humming a tune. It’s been a soul-sucking 65 years since a Seattleite could actually do that. Ding Dong, the witch is dead!
To ARCADE’s dedicated readers, supporters, and community members:
We have some significant news to share with you about ARCADE. After more than 18 years with the organization, ARCADE’s executive director/editor, Kelly Rodriguez, is stepping down from her role this spring to pursue a new opportunity in our design community. While it is hard to imagine ARCADE without Kelly, we wholeheartedly support her next chapter.
We are working with Kelly on timing, but you may trust that she will shepherd through the publication of our upcoming winter issue, 37.1, The Simulated Metropolis, which we will launch on Thursday, February 28 at the 9th & Thomas building in Seattle's South Lake Union (more info coming soon). At the launch, we will take the opportunity to celebrate Kelly and her tremendous contributions to ARCADE over the last two decades. We hope that you will join us.
In the coming weeks, ARCADE’s current board will be exploring what comes next for the organization. We look forward to sharing more with you—we’re excited to imagine the possibilities for ARCADE’s future. If you have any questions or would like to take part in this period of transition, please contact Jason Bergevin, Board president, at [email protected].
Thank you as always for your ongoing support of ARCADE.
—ARCADE Board of Trustees
By Michael Sorkin
This spring, ARCADE is partnering with Hugo House to offer its very first workshop on architectural criticism. We'll be sharing more information soon (sign up for our e-news to stay in the loop!). In the meantime, enjoy the following food-for-thought on criticism from architect, author, and editor Michael Sorkin. This essay first appeared in ARCADE issue 23.1, Autumn 2004.
Always Visit the Building
A photograph is not worth a thousand words, although many millions have been generated from them. There simply is no replacement for prowling the premises. Use all your senses. Be intrusive. Open doors and windows. Climb to the roof. Circumnavigate. Look at the thing from nearby and from afar. Knock on the walls. See what people are doing.
Style Is Seldom the Issue
Style is what architects and editors generally prefer you to write about. Not that expression is unimportant, simply that it often conceals more than it expresses. Architecture is utility made beautiful. Connoisseurship risks buggering flies, valuing things based on narrower and narrower criteria. God may reside in the details but people tend to live in the house: wallpaper will not put the wall back in plumb or block the sound of the neighbors’ arguing. Indeed, Halliburton headquarters (or Saddam’s palazzi) may be gorgeous but that isn’t exactly the point. Don’t get caught defending the indefensible by too much fascination with form.
Credit Effects, Not Intentions
Architects always tell a good story. And, certainly, one should listen with care and take note of any worthwhile ideas. But the recent history of theorizing and criticism of architecture is overloaded with the authority of intent. Architects read philosophy and attempt to make form from it. Not a problem—inspiration comes from wherever you find it. But sources confer no special authority: no amount of special pleading on behalf of a fantasy of philosophical immanence that can overtake the greater importance of how a building behaves. Strangeness can be a virtue and is often a leading characteristic of the new. A critic, however, should arrive on the scene with a quiver full of her own values and take her best shot, not be a conduit for someone else’s delusions.
Think Globally, Think Locally
Architecture is deeply implicated in the world’s environmental crisis. It consumes more energy, uses more materials, and radiates more heat than anything else we do. To fail to note this particular effect of building is to abrogate one’s critical duties. A good way to think about this is in terms of a building’s “ecological footprint.” How much of the earth’s resources does it consume and to what end? How many degrees does it heat the air around it? How much energy is required to produce all that titanium? How much of the jungle disappears to line those elevator cabs with mahogany?
As physicians are counseled first to do no harm, so too must architects. The primary legal responsibility of builders—codified from Hammurabi down—is to assure the safety of those who use or encounter their buildings. This should be taken in the broadest possible sense. Buildings can kill in fires and earthquakes, but also in the cancerous off-gassing of toxic materials, in construction accidents, in the preparation of materials on far-off sites, and in the depressing effects of excluded sun and recirculated air. The effluent and heat produced by a building and its operation have risky potential far away and [builders] have a duty to those at risk downstream. These issues are not trivial but central for critics, and they should equip themselves to inventory such effects.
In our beloved capitalist system, buildings are generally not to be acts of charity. Private engorgement is what produces most of our built environment and profit is not known for its generosity. A critic is obliged to name as many names as possible of the real shapers of any work of architecture. These include the bureaucrats who conceive and institutionalize degrading workplace relations, those who endanger the quality of the public realm by outright hostility or miserliness, those who do not understand the inevitable civic dimension of building, and those for whom all larger issues of the commonweal recede before matters of the bottom line. Numbers are important. The critic has a duty to cut through the mystification that conflates economical and cheap. Architecture must look beyond the depreciation cycle to understand its true worth. Real criticism is too important to be put in the real estate section.
Consult the User
By user, of course, I mean in the first instance those who most regularly inhabit the building. Their opinions count and should be counted. Which is not to say that their taste should trump the critic’s. However, inhabitant happiness is primary and their unhappiness highly significant. How is this to be assessed? To begin, people are to be given some credit for understanding the terms of their own comfort, convenience, and taste. Our consumption system, though, is founded on the provision of illusory choice; a million brands of soap, all the same. The suburbs, for example, may not be the unmediated expression of user desire. They are, rather, the collusion of many interests—many of them suspect. Our preferences are produced, not “natural,” and a critic should make the case for real choices. I, for one, do not believe that obesity, diabetes, automotive pollution, highway mayhem, alienating commuting, isolation, segregation, and sprawl represent the freely considered and chosen wishes of the people. This, rather, is the “wisdom” of the market.
History Is Not Bunk
All building engages its context. Our architecture and settlement patterns represent a history of social compacts—entered with varying degrees of complicity—that physicalize human relations. Such compacts demand respect. There is, however, history and there is history. I remember a panel discussion ages ago where the virtues of the Lincoln Memorial were being extolled and classical architecture identified—in standard-issue Jeffersonian style—with democracy itself. An African American architect demurred. Those Corinthian columns reminded him not of freedom but the big house on the plantation. History is written by its victors who generally prefer to see its progress as positivistic and singular. But culture writes many histories all at once, and the critic must be acute in unraveling whose history is being served, and whose is being suppressed.
It’s the City Stupid
Critics should be careful about imputing too much meaning to the object of architecture. Since we love it, we tend to exaggerate its consequence as a repository of social and philosophical codes, and its power to set agendas for human interactions. This devolves frequently into angel-counting irrelevance. While our building practice does tend to ossify living and gender relations, and to reproduce the strictures of class, the big picture can only be observed by looking at the big picture. To understand America (or India or Russia or Ancient Rome) it is critical that small patterns be tested against large and vice versa. Our convention (after Alberti) is to understand the city as a big house, but this is wrong. Scaling up, more meanings are absorbed and more perspectives available. Just as our own personalities are formed in interaction, so architecture is forged in the crucible of collectivity.
Defend the Public Realm
The most important single task for architectural criticism is to rise in defense of public space. Threatened by the repressive sameness of global culture, contracted by breakneck privatization, devalued by contempt for public institutions, and victimized by the loss of habits of sociability, the physical arena of collective interaction, the streets, squares, parks, and plazas of the city are—in their free accessibility—the guarantors of democracy. Particularly now, as we are brow-beaten with the threat of terrorism into the surrender of more and more of our rights, the freedom of the city and the freedom of assembly—enshrined in the First Amendment—are in desperate need of all the friends they can find.
Keep Your Teeth Sharpened
Courtesy is an important value, but a critic should prefer to be fair. But judiciousness should never trump candor, however, and a critic often needs to shout very loudly to be heard over the din of interests that surround the building process. The rapier will always defeat the noodle and almost always produce a better prose style.
Play Your Favorites
This can, of course, get out of hand: a critic should not be a publicist or a slut. The point is that unbiased criticism isn’t: the critic is out there to describe and defend a set of values in which they believe. If there are designers, builders, politicians, activists, or manufacturers who well embody these same values, they deserve special treatment. They also deserve to have their feet held to the fire if they falter in advancing them.
Thank you to Mithun for cosponsoring ARCADE's website and e-newsletter.
In December ARCADE celebrated the end of 2018 with supports and friends at our annual Holiday Auction + Community Celebration, held this year at Sole Repair Shop on Seattle's Capitol Hill. Thank you to everyone who came out to celebrate with us, to our auction donors and bidders, and our volunteers.
Thank you to ARCADE Issue 37.1 feature editor Leah St. Lawrence and to artist Reilly Donovan for the virtual reality art installation and to Michael Stearns of Hybrid3 Design Studio for taking event photos!
Thank you to our event sponsors Berger Partnership, Cascade Joinery, and Deirdre Doyle Real Estate and to beverage donor Fremont Brewing! Thanks also to grantmakers 4Culture and Seattle Office of Arts & Culture for supporting ARCADE, and to Aesop.
ARCADE is very grateful for these generous auction donors:
Ian Butcher and Carol Chapman, Captain Whidbey Inn, Jim Dow, Eagle Rock Ventures and Magnetic ERV, Richard Hesik and Barbara Johns, Hotel Sorrento, Frank Martin, and zeroplus.
Experiences, Tours & More
Andrew van Leeuwen, Atelier Drome, Bellflower Chocolate Company, ChefShop, Ethan Stowell Restaurants, Glassybaby, Imbibe Wine Tours and Jay Swank, Lucia | Marquand, Graham Baba Architects, Mallet Design Build, Nucor Steel Seattle, and the Walla Walla Foundry and Dylan Farnum.
Here are a few shots from the launch party. Visit our Facebook page to see more photos. Share, tag and enjoy!
Thank you for being part of ARCADE! Whether you're a devoted reader, creative contributor, enthusiastic event attendee, dedicated volunteer, generous financial supporter or all of the above, know that you make ARCADE what it is. You’ve helped create a valuable community platform for sharing inspiring perspectives about design, the built environment and culture. You’ve helped explore and amplify the idea that design, thoughtfully conceived, has the power to positively impact our lives. You’ve supported content that encourages the good work, empathy, creativity and reflection that improves our world.
ARCADE has had a fantastic 2018, which represents our 36th year. This year, in addition to publishing two terrific issues of ARCADE magazine with pieces from over 35 creative contributors from the Northwest and beyond—designers, scholars, activists, artists, writers and more—we’ve hosted corresponding issue launch parties and community celebrations, held educational salons and curated a community calendar of design-minded events.
Your support is key to achieving our mission to reinforce the principle that thoughtful design at every scale of human endeavor improves our quality of life.
As a member of our community, we invite you to make a year-end, tax-deductible donation to ARCADE. Your gift will help ARCADE close 2018, and begin 2019, on solid ground, setting the organization up for a thought-provoking 37th year.
We are so grateful for your support. If you'd like to make a gift, you may contribute online here or mail a check to ARCADE, 1201 Alaskan Way, Pier 56, Ste. 200, Seattle, WA 98101.
With deep gratitude and warm wishes for this holiday season and New Year!
Everyone at ARCADE
ARCADE’s mission is to reinforce the principle that thoughtful design at every scale of human endeavor improves our quality of life. A 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, ARCADE fulfills its mission through its award-winning magazine; events, educational lectures, panel discussions, salons; and web presence, which includes its website, e-newsletter, online calendar of Northwest design events and growing social media community.