Sandwiches

SEED EXPLOSION

One of us—yes, just one—has a thing for milkweed. The other one? Not so much. Anyway, since partnerships are about, among other things, compromises, occasionally on this blog we post something that one of us likes and the other tolerates (at worst) or indulges (at best). This may be one of those things: exploding milkweed seed pods. To the one of us who did not post this bit: apologies. Sincerely.

GOLDEN RAIN TREE

On first glance you pictured these as scrota, didn't you? Disgusting. Seriously, you should be ashamed of yourself. You want to know what they really are, you perv? They're the seed pods off a golden rain tree from Cheesman park—the loveliest park in Denver. Scanned by Clovis Tillman, with our slide scanner, on our dime. Ask yourself: what the hell is wrong with you?

CHAIRS AS GRAPHICS

We dug these out of the archives the other day and reminisced a bit about the 400's spot over on Bannock, on one of our principal bike routes from the shop into downtown. The boys hosted a show for us a couple years back where we introduced the Roadrunner bench and showed these brushed steel wall-graphic versions of our Grasshopper lounge, Crane side chair (which we ended up scrapping as a design, for now) and Crane stool. As you may know, the 400 consolidated their two stores into the one on Platte Street and have since shuttered their doors, at least temporarily. The spot was fresh and the boys were supporters of us (and we of them) from our earliest days. Here's hoping they're back on the scene soon. Denver needs them in a big way.

ERICE, SICILY (PART 2)

HARRISON NEALEY IS EITHER A MORON (YES) OR SOME GENIUS VIRTUAL TAGGER (NOT BLOODY LIKELY)

This is some wacky shit, man. The dude is either a complete moron-jackass or some wicked genius virtual tagger—like he knew we'd post up his work and this was his way to get his name on our site. Extremely unlikely—no-chance-in-hell—given all you can find out about the doofus online. But, hell, Harrison if you turn out to be a genius and we were punked: respect.

FROM THE TILLMAN PHOTO ALBUM

Since the extended Tillman clan has stepped up for us every time we've asked we feel we need to keep paying our respects. Pictured here are Pepper, Darnell Tillman's dog and Cinder's litter mate (doing her best mad-dog impression). And at right, Mason (left) and Kenny Tillman from a camping trip back in the day. Classically awkward, stiff-armed Tillman pose, with a couple of the many other timeless Tillman-family jokes: Pancho Villa Tequila, which is possibly the most wretched liquid on the planet, and Mason's epic head of hair (it seems to get thicker every year).

NEGATIVES

Clovis has been getting busy with our little Leica and our slide scanner, getting his art on when he really should be doing just about anything else. He put together this trio of negatives when he should have been at the Design After Dark pre-party last night—though it was probably best for everyone that the event was Tillman-free. No one needs to see a pack of naked Tillmans puffing a fatty in a hot tub on the edges of a buttoned-down event.

BASSWOOD BRACTS

You find yourself in possession of a slide scanner and some time and you end up scanning all sorts of scannable stuff. Anything small that'll pass light. Some of it works and some of it doesn't. This bit works, if you ask us. Scanned by our friend Clovis Tillman, who's in possession of our slide scanner, lots of time, and a fat bag of medicinal sticky. Like dueling street grids in some urban planner's office, except that they're bracts (seed leaves) off a basswood tree from Cheesman Park. Hippy-dippy and urban mod: a strange cocktail.