Click here to listen.

Elizabeth Jameson's latest show at Ballard Fetherston Gallery—her first in about five years—is called Nurses and Queens: Drawings, Sculptures, and Frosting.

In it are the tiny uniforms of nurses and queens, each with her own battlefield specialty: loss of limbs, K.I.A., last rites. They're adorably small but surprisingly dignified, made from the aged, dirty, world-weary skin of a used fur coat.


And there are only nurses here, not doctors. It is past the point of doctors. A child nurse after the infanta in Velazquez's Las Meninas wears a gas mask, embodying help, terror, and vulnerability all.


A larger-than-life-sized queen in a gas mask stands in a forest of layer cakes in a reprise of Jameson's sculpture for Bumbershoot last year, Keeping Up Appearances. It is covered in 300 pounds of white fondant icing.


Jameson talks to Jen Graves on In/Visible about watching her late father dress for military life, about whether she's more afraid than she used to be, about the mysterious new costumes she's making for her band the Buttersprites, and about trailing 40 feet of sleeves behind her on the streets of Vienna. Will she do an art performance in Seattle?