*
Cris Moss, disgusted by Columbia Sportswear-clad
dads demanding maple bars at the Donut Shop, decides to open a real doughnut
store. Bloated teens sell your fave fat-injected pastries at franchises called
"Cris-py Cremes." The endeavor makes Moss one of the richest men in PDX.
But he still insists on showcasing cutting-edge artists, and even the most liberal
patrons struggle to choke down their crullers in the presence of Damien Hirst's
Jelly-Filled.
* Upset by the astronomical rental rates in the Pearl, Hawthorne and Alberta
Districts, underground artists flee to counter-culture Beaverton.
* Bush outlaws art! Kindergartners clutching black-market Crayons stand
down Colin Powell's tanks in city streets. Cheney and Baker are heard exclaiming
stuff about "black feminist dancers corrupting our children" and "Hispanic gay
painters frightening the horses" before letter A-bombing RACC.
* Wieden & Kennedy is so impressed with Kate Shephard's show at neighboring
PICA that it launches minimalist ad campaigns, ditching "Just Do It"
in favor of the simpler "Do" for the Nike account.
* Pearl District realtors, distressed by the "trite flight" of artists to counter-culture
Beaverton, employ models resembling Basquiat to hang out in front of new condos.
Some models are hired to occupy the lofts and give them "character facelifts"
by spilling paint and urine on the floorboards. These "artistastized" lofts
are resold for hundreds of thousands to recent Beaverton transplants. More
than one of the new owners is heard gushing, "This old place has creative energy!
That wall cries for a stenciled mural saying 'Litl'uns Loved Here.'"
* In its latest expansion project, PAM builds the Bruce Guenther Atrium,
where its curator of contemporary art perches on a plinth and dispenses advice
to twentysomethings on good art, the value of reading, and how to stay hip past
30. Museum revenues skyrocket.
* The last of the Hawthorne galleries closes. Gallery patrons are too blinded
by incense fumes to see its final display.
* Alberta's going to soar! It will bring urgent new voices to a burgeoning
arts scene! Wait, wasn't that the '98 prediction?
* First Thursday walkers abandon any pretense of looking at art, congregating
in the middle of the intersection at Northwest Everett and 10th Avenue to stare
at each other. Overnight, galleries convert to hair salons or burn down
in fires with unidentifiable causes. Laura Russo and Elizabeth Leach buy "art
vans," which make evening rounds to collectors' homes.
* The Oregonian eliminates the Family Fun and VideoZone sections of
the A&E and actually hires a fantastic stable of full-time arts writers.
(Hey, it could happen.)
* Willamette Week's visual arts "reporter" is fired for filling her
2001 predictions with inaccurate premonitions and ludicrous prognostications.
She's forced to fabricate stories for the I, Anonymous column at a certain
Thursday weekly. That paper, too, fires her when the best she can come up with
is "I once took a pen from the bank by accident." Her "I read Julianne Shepherd"
piece, however, does generate one letter to the editor.
Commercial ventures and the visual arts continue to synthesize throughout 2001. 
PREDICTIONS FOR 2001
