Glowing red lights form the words "PPL SHOP" in the windows of the Northrup King Building, a brick behemoth housing studios for more than 130 northeast Minneapolis artists.
The words are oddly appropriate, especially on the first Thursday evening of each month, when creatives back away from their kilns, looms and easels to sell themselves (and hopefully a handmade rug or painting) to the throngs of locals flooding the L-shaped building.
During September's First Thursday open house, one painter inside guessed only one-third of the occupants were on hand to welcome the curious crowd, yet there were enough studios open to feel overwhelmed by the sheer immensity of it all – and to wish the event lasted more than just four hours.
Northrup King's three floors of studios and gallery spaces are each uniquely brought to life by their inhabitants. There's a long rectangular room lined with framed photographs; a boutique-style room where richly-hued kimonos hang on black, silver and gold clothing racks; plenty of painting studios, many holding canvases covered in flowers and landscapes; and a room where large ceramic plates cover the walls and hover above ground on display pillars and tables.
On the building's top floor is Icebox, a frame store and art gallery. Bob Dylan's latest disc, "Modern Times," follows customers down the 1,700 square foot shop's makeshift corridor, the walls of which display black and white photographs of Dylan.
"I'm the person who had the idea for First Thursdays," Icebox's owner and photographer, Howard Christopherson, said. "Area artists need more exposure than just Art-A-Whirl and Art Attack."
He credits Art Attack with overhauling northeast Minneapolis' reputation as a blue-collar neighborhood with a church and bar on every corner, to the Northeast of today, a younger, more hip, fun part of town.
Christopherson is entitled to take pride in the area's transformation. He's not only the man behind First Thursdays, he was also one of the first artists to inhabit the building, moving there in July 2003, after it was bought by Shamrock Properties and transformed into studios.
The Northrup King Building's history stretches much farther back. It's nearly a century old, yet reminders of its former life linger into the present. Outside, rusted trains still rumble past its perimeter like rolling relics. Inside, thick white lines line the fourth floor's hallway, marking where rows of petunia seeds were stored by the Northrup King & Co. seed company until the business left in the late 1980s. The hallway, however, is a vast departure from the building's original layout: Wide open spaces on each floor, rather than the segmented chunks of rooms are now parceled off and rented to individuals.
A few rooms down from Icebox, past its own dark room and across the wide hall, is visual artist Loretta Bebeau.
Bebeau shares her space with three other artists, none of whom are present. Her corner is covered in works large and small, many made from recycled cereal boxes, flattened protein drink canisters, fabric swatches from her parent's old sofa and extra sheet rock from a home remodeling project.
"Tonight is a little slower," she said, describing the flow of art enthusiasts through the building. "Not that it matters. I'm here to just show the art."
And she's happy to have the opportunity to do so. Bebeau explained the gallery system usually selects a few people to represent. This "horse stable" design, where typically only 10 to 20 artists are selected to display their work, is frightful for any artist not securely snuggled into its herd.
"That's the big deal about Northrup King – we get to show the art to someone without wasting time fighting for a place in the highly guarded gallery system," Bebeau said.
But the Northrup King Building offers more than just monthly exposure for its inhabitants – it offers a caring community of individuals who look out for each other's best interest, a rarity in the competitive art world.
"I think there's a kind of family feeling in this building," Bebeau said.
The feeling of warmth, camaraderie and support permeates the Northrup King Building's industrial interior, where countless pieces of art await their chance to enter the outside world. But for now, what matters is not so much the final resting place of every self-portrait or woven table liner within. What matters is the spirit of the people who created them.
"PPL SHOP" indeed.
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