SlipStitch

05/26/2026

SlipStitch is now accepting submissions for our 2026 Pride Month exhibition, Where We Gather: The Price of Fitting In—a show centering LGBTQIA+ artists and LGBTQIA+ / AANHPI / BIPOC lived experience, and asking a simple, sharp question: what does it cost to feel safe, welcomed, and whole in spaces marketed as “for everyone”?

We’re looking for work that holds joy and truth at the same time: chosen family and found community; nightlife, living rooms, community centers, sidewalks; group chats, dance floors, galleries. And we’re equally open to work that names what’s often left unsaid—gatekeeping, code-switching, tokenization, surveillance, and uneven safety even within q***r spaces.

If your work explores belonging, visibility, protection, and the complicated math of “fitting in,” we want to see it.

You can submit in CaFE, link available on our profile

05/26/2026

Bang Jing Sun’s work is a masterclass in patience and precision. Using Gongbi, a traditional Chinese painting technique known for its meticulous brushwork and fine, layered detail, she builds images that feel almost luminous—delicate at first glance, then increasingly powerful the closer you look.

In the gallery, her paintings slow you down. Every line is intentional, every gradient earned, and the result is a quiet intensity that rewards attention—an intimate kind of beauty that doesn’t shout, but absolutely holds the room.

05/25/2026

Lin-Lin Mao Mollitor is a Seattle-based Chinese-American artist whose work quietly insists on connection—between species, between systems, between what we notice and what we overlook. Born in Taiwan and raised in the United States, she grew up making with her hands—paper folding, knitting, crocheting, drawing—and that tactile intelligence still runs through everything she does.

What’s especially compelling is how her practice bridges worlds: trained in computer science, she even developed a digital paint program for her 1985 master’s thesis, and later—after raising two children—returned to earn an MA in Fine Art in England in 2017. Working across painting, craft, and installation, Mollitor reflects on empathy, perception, and the nature of existence, inviting us to consider the natural world not as backdrop, but as kin. She has been a member artist at Gallery 110 in Seattle since May 2024.

05/23/2026

Jill Kyong’s work has a way of quieting the room—minimal in form, but deeply attentive to lived experience. Inspired by a hike in the Cotswolds near Cirencester, England, this piece reflects on the familiar idiom, “Can’t see the forest for the trees.” Her simplified tree forms echo the language of minimalism, yet they remain grounded in observation—an artist noticing what’s right in front of her, and translating it with care.

For the Trees is an invitation to pause and look closely, to rediscover how beauty emerges in the spaces between things. It asks us to hold both perspectives at once—the single tree and the larger forest—and to find, in that balance, a quiet sense of hope and presence.

05/22/2026

One Yung Kim is a Seattle-based portrait artist creating emotionally rich oil paintings of women navigating pressure, memory, and quiet strength. A first-generation immigrant and late-blooming artist, her work carries the imprint of dislocation, reinvention, and resilience—shaped by years living and working between California and Seattle, and by the distinct, shifting light of each place.

Kim’s portraits resist polished ideals of female beauty in favor of something more honest: emotional texture, unfiltered presence. As she writes, “a self can be whittled down to whatever will survive another judgment,” and painting becomes the place where that erasure pauses—where doubt turns into a line, a color, a fragile contour of being. Each figure hovers in the flicker between visibility and withdrawal, composed of “luminous gaps,” unfinished gestures, and exposed surfaces that let what usually retreats breathe for a moment. Through her Seattle Restored Artist Residency, Kim continues expanding this series—standing beside what insists on existing, and making space for all of us living in the shimmering unrest between absence and arrival.

05/22/2026

I Love Art, SlipStitch is a movement to bring support to artists, exhibitions, and free/low-cost community events. Every purchase helps us pay artists fairly, produce socially relevant programming, and keep our gallery accessible—so the impact doesn’t stop at the wall. When you buy from us, your dollars go right back into the community, strengthening local creative careers and the neighborhood ecosystem that makes them possible and you get a cool merch. Limited items.

Buy SlipStitch merch to fund artists + events?money goes back to the community.. Support SlipStitch by buying merch that directly funds artists, exhibitions, and free...

05/21/2026

"I Love Art, SlipStitch" is a movement to bring support to artists, exhibitions, and free/low-cost community events. Every purchase helps us pay artists fairly, produce socially relevant programming, and keep our gallery accessible—so the impact doesn’t stop at the wall. When you buy from us, your dollars go right back into the community, strengthening local creative careers and the neighborhood ecosystem that makes them possible and you get a cool merch. Limited items.

https://www.bonfire.com/i-love-art-slipstitch/

05/21/2026

Naomi Santoki’s watercolor practice is quietly expansive—gestural, narrative, and intentionally unstable in the best way. Using organic mark-making and ambiguous color, she explores the complexities of culture and identity on O‘ahu, alongside the distortion of memory and the fluidity of human experience.

This painting begins with a photograph taken by her great-grandfather of a rice farm in Fukushima—an ancestral place she knows more through inheritance than firsthand experience. Santoki overlays that landscape with a form instantly familiar across O‘ahu: the Mid-Century Modern breeze block, designed to let air move through while cutting the harsh sun. In the gallery, that collision feels deeply lived-in—past and present, agrarian and post-industrial, distance and belonging—held together in brief, luminous glimpses that remind us the past never stops shaping who we become.