It’s been eight years since I’ve gotten a tattoo, and the two I’ve already got are beginning to ask what’s taking so long.

I resisted Tumblr for a long time because I saw it as little more than a coffee-table blogging service — all style, with no context or substance. I didn’t realize that were its strengths.

Photography is a learning process that eventually becomes a skill, and it’s a skill that eventually becomes a sense. I’m getting there.

Some might be quick to describe Scott Radke’s creatures as otherworldly, but they’re perfectly at home in this world, inhabiting spaces most of us rarely notice.

Christopher Nolan’s “Inception” is wanting. A movie about entering other people’s dreams, and the best Nolan can come up with is shoot-‘em-ups inside the local Hyatt?

While running an errand at Michael’s Arts and Crafts, something caught my eye: smiling clowns and wolves pacing through the woods. Oh yes, the paint-by-number aisle!

The late pop artist Ray Johnson once sent me some art, which I may have floating around in storage. If I kept it at all.

I don’t really need to explain my love of Las Vegas or Bangkok to my friends. Seattle, however, is a tougher sell.

The word “art” has been devalued. We live in a world where every middle-aged lady making chunky coral-jewelry calls herself an artist.

The paintings of Dutch artist Chris Berens feel like incredible glimpses into another person’s dreams. Everything is soft, distorted and unfocused.