Culture Features

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.”

The wedding dress in the corner of Northwest Crossing's Sara Bella Upcycled is white and studded with little flowers. The train is about five feet long and billows out behind the dress.
That's about where the similarities between this wedding dress and all other dresses end.
This one is made from trash. It makes crinkly noises when moved. And it wasn't designed by a fashion house – rather it's the creation of a 17-year-old girl from right here in Bend who has been quietly making a name for herself as an up-and-comer in the fashion design world
“I just feel like it's my thing,” said Marley Weedman, the primary fabric designer at Sara Bella, which makes bags, wallets and clothes out of recyclable materials like chip bags and other food packaging.

Hopefully you're reading this standing up, allowing the resulting couch sores from four days of nearly uninterrupted basketball to heal. Those sores are disgusting, my friend, but I don't blame you for your obsession over this tournament. It's been entertaining without being necessarily fantastic. Engaging, but not groundbreaking.
If I were, in the parlance of the season, going to place this opening week of games in a bracket amongst other week ones over the years, I'd say it was a solid four, but playing in the Southern region. A good one, but there have been better.

On Thursday or Friday of this week, your employer might say something like this. It might not be these exact words and your name might not be Johnson, but this could happen:
“Hey, you! Johnson! Get back to work! What in Sam hell are you doing? I was supposed to have the report on the Johnson (no relation) account three hours ago. Why do you have three computer monitors on your desk? And why are all of those screens playing different basketball games? And why do you have those highlighted bracket things all over the walls? And is that a keg of beer on ice in the corner of your office? You trying to get fired or something?”

Until three months ago, Shepherd's House resident Rick Engle, a gray-bearded 55-year-old man of Irish and Mexican descent, was spending “every dime” on alcohol and each night hopping from one friend's couch to the next.
Finding work in the construction industry was getting harder and harder, and he knew he was getting closer to living on the cold streets of wintertime Bend. Then, one night, he chose Shepherd's House instead of alcohol and is now on the road to winning a war with his addiction.