I don’t remember how I found out about Vignettes but it wasn’t through Sierra Stinson who I saw (and still see) on a daily basis and who also happens to be it’s founder. She seems to keep all her cool-ness under pretty good wrap. She’s not one to flaunt. Someone else had told me about Vignettes, I don’t remember who. “Sierra runs an art gallery out of her apartment” they told me. And sure enough, if you Google Sierra Stinson, up pops all sorts of articles in local online magazines and blogs about her incredible in-home gallery. So, like the good friend I am, I ‘liked’ her Vignettes Facebook page then never did anything else to support her. Sierra hadn’t told me about it personally for good reason. Because of the small, intimate nature of the one-night only gallery shows, they were never really broadcast and publicized all over the place. Vignettes wasn’t exclusive, but it was quiet. Unless you actively kept up with the gallery, it was hard to know when shows were. So, I never took the time to make it out to one but always told myself I would one day.

Last week word through the grapevine told me Vignettes was having it’s last show. The nature of the project was shifting a little bit, moving to an online space rather than a living space. Disappointed with myself for never making more of an effort to go before, I made it out to the last show this past Saturday. When I showed up, the crowd was small but it filled the tiny apartment. There was art in every room including the bathroom and kitchen. Intimate really is the best word to describe it all. I knew no one but everyone seemed to know each other and didn’t seem to mind me. Strangers don’t really seem like strangers when you’re looking at art together in someone else’s home.

The final show, Where Does Your Bed Go? by Graham Downing and some collaboration by Stinson herself, featured work inspired by life in the space, shifting their belongings (namely their bed) for each show. When I asked Sierra what it was like living in a gallery space like that, her immediate response was that she loved it.

“The structure was whatever the artist and I decided, we could have exhibits any night of the week, people attending were instantly warm to you because they were strangers in your home. Rather then a desk with a computer in a white cube gallery where you are faced with this potentially awkward interaction you can just say ‘hey, welcome to my place and here’s the artist right here, would you like a drink?’ It normalizes the situation and takes the pressure off. My favorite thing was at the end of the night putting the bed back together and sleeping amongst the art, to wake up to a home filled with someones recent creations is a really great feeling.”

About four years ago, Stinson saw a need in Seattle for a space for “in-between” artists, independent artists who were really talented had few places to go. “A lot of galleries were closing at the time in Seattle and I looked at my minimal apartment and saw it’s potential as a gallery.” She had contemplated moving to New York but knew there was a greater need and more space here in Seattle for her. “I used what I had within my means here which happened to be my home. The first exhibit’s were friends who had never shown their work before and in the first year we had 24 one-night only openings. The idea was a lot of people only go to openings so why not just have an opening/closing reception in one, to treat visual art like performance art.”  The idea was a success. To her surprise, people came and then kept coming.

Now, as Stinson closes her home to public viewings, Vignettes shifts to an online presence with the launch of their website, www.vignettes.us. The website focuses on “the import and exportation of under represented artists in and outside of Seattle. Pairing these artists with photographers and writers for studio visits which are then turned into featured essays and interviews online. There is a curated e-commerce side to the site as well as articles on past and future exhibits related to Vignettes or artists who have exhibited through Vignettes.” Though we’re all sad to see the physical presence of Vignettes go, this shift will allow greater accessibility for the artists and audience and provide more room for growth.

Stinson hopes for Vignettes to continue to change and mature with time. “A vignette is described as an episode. Or, my favorite description is for photography; a portrait without a definite border – I enjoy looking at a project this way, it is malleable and can be anything you want it to be. Vignettes began as a gallery in my apartment and will hopefully have many iterations in it’s lifetime.”