Culture Features

Nano Cruz’s hands are thick and meaty. They feel like they’re twice as big as mine – and they might very well be. When shaking hands with Cruz, a hulk of a man with a warm smile and a soft voice, my palm is lost in his. His fingers feel like sausages.
Cruz's large, powerful hands are one of his most potent weapons because Cruz is a competitive arm wrestler. He and his three Bend teammates travel the country attending arm wrestling tournaments – competitions that aren’t on the radar of most sports fans. They're good, too.

The owners of Tin Pan Theater will slide back the old timey metal door to their new space off Tin Pan Alley this Friday and, in doing so, revive the good old American tradition of going to the movies.
The art walkers that file in will belly up to the small handcrafted wooden bar marked by pine inlays on walnut for beer and popcorn. They'll slide into old red velvet chairs from the Hollywood Theater in Portland. They’ll grow quiet as the room is darkened by heavy black curtains sliding over large windows on the alley. They'll turn their eyes to the small screen and watch a movie.

In these economic times sometimes things can feel a little dire. However, all over the country people are looking for, and sometimes finding, the pewter lining. Right here in Bend a pair of local artists working on a new formula that is designed to deconstruct artistic and economic limitations with a bold new experiment in commercial art, design and production, fittingly dubbed The Workhouse.
Rooted in grass roots solutions, combining community, creativity, resourcefulness, and hard work to help redefine “the good life”. Belying the origins of its name, The Workhouse, love child of Stuart Breidenstein and Cari Dolyniuk, defines this union of elements.

Walt Freund prides himself on punctuality – it’s one of his guiding principles.
When I walked into the office on a recent Wednesday morning, four minutes after nine, Freund was already patiently waiting for me, even though we had agreed to meet between nine and nine thirty. As the brawny and fantastically mustachioed 54-year-old took my extended hand in his, I could tell I was going to like him. I could also tell he was holding back a bit in that handshake. His large powerful hands were thick and rough, a product of his rather unusual day job as a horseshoer, or farrier.
The gregarious Bend native spends his workdays rising with the sun in preparation for the full day ahead. Driving his Ford pickup truck and loaded-down trailer to various ranches, farms and private homes, “Walt the Horseshoer,” as he is known by many horse owners in the area, has happily spent the last 25 years lifting the legs of horses in order to inspect, trim and shoe their hooves.
“Our job (farriers) is to make the horse comfortable and get the most performance out of them as possible,” Freund explains. “We're like horse podiatrists.”