A drawing included in the forthcoming issue of Vital 5 Review

: Illegal string offset 'caption' inon line

This Friday the Hideout turns a respectable age of 10. Founded by Greg Lundgren (of Lundgren Monuments, Vital 5, Vito’s, Walden 3 and a slew of other projects), the art bar is a timeless bohemian lair, duskily illuminated by low-hanging crystal chandeliers, its red walls staggered top to bottom with paintings displayed in the traditional fin de siecle salon style. If moved, patrons can buy the art right off the wall. Or there’s the option of consulting a vending machine tucked in one dim corner packed with small artworks, zines and other miscellany produced by local artists. Once sated with alcohol, visitors are encouraged to take up pen and paper and make drawings, which might eventually make it in one of the issues of Vital 5 Review, a zine that Lundgren regularly publishes and unveils at release parties in the bar. In advance of their big celebration this weekend, I probed Lundgren to dig into the history and experience of running what has become a Seattle art institution.

What was the impetus for starting the Hideout? It was your first bar, right?

Greg Lundgren: After Vital 5 closed on Westlake and Denny (the spot that’s now Whole Foods) my business partner Jeff Scott and I started looking for a new space. Originally we envisioned it as two separate spaces that fed off each other—one wing dedicated to visual art, the other a bar to help subsidize operations. It was the height of a real estate boom and we couldn’t find the space we envisioned no matter how hard we tried. Then I stumbled across this old cafe in my neighborhood. Even though it was smaller than what we were originally looking for we decided to take it and merge the two spaces into one. Neither of us had ever worked in hospitality but we knew how to throw a party and we entered with naive enthusiasm. Lucky for us, we hired a smart staff out of the gate, right at the birth of Seattle’s cocktail surge.

Was there a preexisting model for the Hideout?

Honestly, I don’t know. I think we wanted to be the Cedar Tavern of Seattle, but I have never been to a bar that published a patron-driven zine or exhibited the amount of art that we do. We just made it up as we went along.

It was originally a project with an expiration date, right?

It was originally designed as a five-year project, in part because we wanted to view the bar as a theatre set and the staff and patrons as the performers, as discretely as that might have been messaged. And at the time, First Hill was kind of a social dead zone and there was the very real prospect that it could fail. So calling it a five-year performance piece relieved some of that long-term pressure and allowed us to frame it as a project more than a business.

How has it evolved over the years? Is it still the quintessential artist hangout?

The Hideout has always been a destination off the beaten path, and I think that translates to a high quality of patronage. If it were on the Pike-Pine corridor, we would’ve seen a much greater challenge keeping it the way that we set out. Sure, we’d be making more money, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. I’m proud of the diversity of our patrons—artists, neighbors, doctors and a really wide variety of people. Maybe art is that connective tissue, maybe it’s just the flavor of First Hill, but it feels like a city bar. If it were all 21-30 year old, middle class, straight, white kids, it would be a sign we’re doing something wrong. But any night of the week, we seem to attract a really wide variety of people. And with the men’s bathroom being the exception, people have shown the Hideout a great deal of respect. It’s pretty much the same bar that it was 10 years ago. It’s aged well.



What is the range of art in the space over the years? At present I can think of the salon art, obviously, the vending machine, the drawings in the men’s bathroom, the Vital 5 Review….

The 95 paintings on the wall are the most obvious and the Vital 5 Review turned out to be a really successful project. We’re about to publish a 1,260-page book of drawings made by our patrons, and it’s awesome. We’ve hosted performances, installations, live music, karaoke, literary events and three weddings. I’ve always been particularly fond of our discrete theatre performances, which ask people to perform without announcing themselves as performers. And our robotic art dispenser EARL 3.0 has been a lot of fun, though I must admit robots aren’t nearly as self-sufficient as I’d like.

What was your favorite artwork to go in EARL 3.0?

So hard! Maybe Sian Wu’s crocheted BLT sandwiches? Or Jack Daws’ sterling-silver beer tab necklaces? Or Jane Fader’s collection of dirty panties?



EARL 3.0?



What are some memorable highlights over the years?

We get a lot of people that spend a week or two at the Hideout while they are visiting or caring for friends and family at one of the hospitals. They often arrive as strangers and leave as well-known personalities. The cowboy from eastern Washington, the divers from Maryland, the old-timer from Alaska. Maybe they’re really actors and just playing us, but I’m pretty sure they’re real people.

Has running a business changed your outlook on selling or showing or making art?

Jeff and I have always shared the same mantra: If it isn’t fun, don’t do it. Life is short. And through thick and thin the Hideout has been a really great project. For a long time, I’ve tried to separate my art-making life from my income-making life. I think there are things that one must do to pay the bills and there are things one must do to be a human. Relying on art to pay the bills can be a dangerous game, as it often contaminates the creative process. My art projects pretty much all lose money, but they’re free from that commercial burden and I like to keep it that way. Projects like the Hideout or Lundgren Monuments need to make money to keep going. They’re creative and inspiring, but ultimately if they don’t pay for themselves they don’t last. My art-making will last to the bitter end. It isn’t dependent upon sales or trends.