Overheard man: “Whoever designed that new library sure had his head up his ass. When you’re reading in the book spiral, you can hear people talking louder than normal.” I never experienced this myself, but world-renowned architect Rem Koolhaas—like most world-renowned architects—probably has his head lodged somewhere. The edifice he’s created is definitely a grand creative gesture, but there are a few kinks. Witness the impenetrable logic of the route that leads downstairs. Ascending is easy. Descending is neither intuitive nor fluid. And those metal stairs can be damn loud. That said, the aesthetic is breathtaking and many aspects—like the book spiral and the sliding shelves—are truly ingenious. The generous use of open space is also very refreshing. This is a building Seattle can be proud of. —Kristopher Monroe

The Seattle Central Library is located at Fourth and Madison in downtown Seattle.

Although I enjoy the Henry, its fairly small display space and slow exhibit rotation means I’m constantly starved for high-quality contemporary art. This localized shortage is the reason the air is filled with hosannas now that the Western Bridge Gallery has opened. Located in an unassuming SODO building, the space consists of a main floor with some six rooms, a second story holding a public gallery area and a mysteriously labeled “apartment.”

I was pleased to see that rather than distracting from the art by adding labels, visitors were being handed maps with information about the works. There were also no artists’ statements or any other explanations to mediate the viewer’s experience. This left me free to just wander from room to room and look, sometimes consulting my map, mostly not. Overall, it felt not like a gallery, but like a small, private art museum, free from the limitations of making sales or pleasing the public. (I discovered later that this feeling is, in fact, accurate, as the Western Bridge Gallery was conceived specifically as a place to display works from the collection of Seattle collectors Bill and Ruth True.)

The most immediately attractive member of the debut exhibit, a group show entitled “Possessed,” is certainly Zoe Leonard’s “Mouth open, teeth showing (I),” a battalion of baby dolls posed in slight motion. Some are naked, some wearing their original clothes, a few are dressed in hand-crocheted dresses that looked like the outfit they had on when they were finally forgotten by their owners. Their ages and styles ranged greatly, but they shared a velveteen-rabbit-like aura of having once been intensely and individually loved that I found magnetic.

I found more to think about in the room displaying “Living,” Nicola Vruwink’s 2001 documentation of four weeks of living life as dictated by Martha Stewart’s “Living” magazine and TV show. Four video screens showed Vruwink following the instructions for creating various projects (candle holders, tissue-paper flowers, etc.), while the tables in front of each monitor displayed the results of her efforts.
The work evoked the loneliness of modern urban life, where a person could spend day after day at home alone, making silly crafts and allowing a TV show to dictate her activities. The tape of Martha’s soothing voice seemed like a kind of aural valium, reassuring the listener that putting forth these ridiculous expenditures of money and time would surely result in a more ordered, more controlled life, filled with now-missing social connections—a promise not backed by the documentation.

The most powerful of the many video works on display throughout the gallery is Shirin Neshat’s “Possessed,” which merits its own room. It appeared to be documentation of a performance art piece in which actress Shohreh Aghdashloo wanders around the narrow streets of a Moroccan town, dressed in pajamas and babbling to herself. But when it ended, I wondered just what I had been watching. Were all the participants actors or just her? Was it a commentary on Arab society? Was the movie purely symbolic? I left the room with a lot to think about and no easy answers.

Although locked, the final part of the gallery, “The Apartment,” can be made accessible if you ask nicely. Set up with a bedroom, bathroom (complete with tub) and kitchen, the space is in fact a rentable meeting room and its existence a wry play on the entire gallery’s existence as a public space to view a private collection. Thus, the “bedroom” sets off the gigantic color photograph of a shiny white Aunt Jemima cookie jar (by Fred Wilson, entitled “The Tragic”); white on white on white on white, a play on the subject of the photograph that I found very clever.

Despite my best efforts to be underwhelmed, I’m afraid that in this case I’m jumping on the bandwagon and saying “Yes!” to the Western Bridge Gallery. Yes, the space is cool; yes, the art is worth seeing; and yes, you should go out of your way to get there. Just as Bill and Ruth True put the effort forward to create this fun, free place to view their collection, so you should make the effort to see it. —Tonnvane Wiswell

Western Bridge Gallery, 3412 Fourth Avenue S, is open Thursday through Saturday, Noon-6pm. Call 206.838.7444 for more information. westernbridge.org.