SlipStitch

SlipStitch’s backyard is turning into a true place of gathering.

This Saturday, we’re welcoming three new pop-ups into the space, with art to explore and performances woven throughout the afternoon. Come wander, meet your neighbors, and spend a little time with the work.

Make it a slow day: grab a coffee at Voi Cà Phê between 12 – 4PM, then swing through and stay awhile.

SlipStitch’s Backyard
June 20, 2026 | 12PM – 5PM

Bring a friend, come as you are, and let the afternoon unfold.

Hanako O'Leary's journey reimagines the Japanese legend of Utsuro-bune—the “Hollow Ship.” Rather than portraying the young woman as ruined or exiled, the sculpture presents her as capable and sovereign: her vessel is seaworthy, her provisions are her own, and her culture is intact. The box she protects remains unreadable by design—an act of boundary and self-determination. She refuses coercion, patriarchy, and imposed endings. Like many q***r women, her path may be solitary, but it is free.

Fitting in has always felt like a moving target—an endless assessment that never fully stops. Sometimes it matters; sometimes it shouldn’t, yet the questions keep coming: Do they like me? Do I know enough? Do I ask too many questions? Why doesn’t anyone care about clarity? Why are they looking at me? And why do I care? With age, the edges soften, but the reflex remains. This work sits inside that loop—naming the anxious math of belonging, and tracing the moment self-awareness turns into self-judgment, then back again.

Hua’s early experience of landscape—first as wilderness, then as memory—continues to shape the psychological and spatial tension in his work. After earning a BFA from the Academy of Art University in San Francisco, he grounded an intuitive sensibility in rigorous formal training. His practice moves at the intersection of personal history and collective evolution, asking what is gained—and what is erased—in the name of advancement. Through a steady undercurrent of reflection, Hua considers how environments shape identity, and how memory persists, resisting disappearance.

They have spent their life between spaces. Nonbinary and bisexual, married to a man, they moved through their twenties in mostly cishet environments, learning to make themself smaller and easy to digest. Their q***rness was often rendered invisible, yet invisibility never meant belonging; they were still “not straight or cis enough.” After a trip to Japan and friendships with two q***r people who reflected back what they’d suppressed, they began again. Now in Seattle, q***r spaces bring excitement and fear—too old, too passing, not trans enough. This work holds that in-between longing to be seen.

In their work, surface, form, texture, and color combine to create emotional statements through a pure colorist approach and linear perspective. They move between stylized representation, abstraction, and hybrids, always pursuing a total configuration where every part supports the whole. Born in Kobe, Japan, they trained as a professional musician before moving to Seattle in 1986, where their passion for fine art flourished through studies in portraiture, landscape, color, and composition. Today they paint imaginary landscapes and abstractions, often sparked by current events—translated into feeling rather than reportage—seeking paintings that stay fresh, quick, and enchanting.

Jay Stoneking's landscapes come from a body of work that treats the self as a space—painted to comfort in, and to make visible, their inner world. They move between the literal and the abstract: expansive, infinite skies they wander through as they paint, and states of mind where emotion becomes place, and conflict or decision takes form as terrain. From a mixed-race background and transitioning as an adult, they've carried many identities, rarely finding a place that holds them all at once. What began as escape has softened into meditation—a way to commune with the many selves that exist simultaneously, revealing some facets while others remain private.

This photographic series explores Puerto Rico’s housing crisis through intimate scenes set within homes marked by exposure and decay. Made inside a house torn open by Hurricane María in 2017 and photographed two years later, the work reflects how the storm never truly left for many of us who lived through it—or for the archipelago itself. The unfinished wreckage speaks to the long aftermath of the disaster and the instability created by displacement, gentrification, and the rise of unregulated Airbnbs. It also acknowledges domestic abuse survivors, who are among those most deeply affected when safe and stable housing becomes increasingly out of reach.

Every so often, you’ll catch Dozfy’s work out in the wild—on a restaurant wall, tucked into a space you swear you’ve seen a hundred times, but there’s another side to it. Fine art pieces—the kind that don’t show up often, and don’t stay available for long.
If you’re curious, ask us about Dozfy. We’re holding two works back right now—quietly hidden, waiting for the right eyes.

June 13, 2026 | 12PM - 7PM
This Saturday is a double whammy in Georgetown with Art Attack and Carnival happening the same day. Come wander, make something, catch some great art, and soak up a full day of festivities with the whole family. We would love to see you out here.