Two of the city's most beloved literary institutions—Literary Arts and Mother Foucalt's—just opened bookstores across the street from one another on SE Grand. by Suzette Smith The Mercury covers culture & art because we th ink all its various forms are—quite plainly—how people understand one another. Conversations about food, music, performance, and “weird” installation art provide touchstones to deepen friendships, create new connections, and better understand our world. If you appreciate the Mercury’s interesting and useful news & culture reporting, consider making a small monthly contribution to support our editorial team. (WE HAVE TOTES NOW?!) Your donation is tax-deductible. Oh, do you not like reading this on every article? Then read the guide IN PRINT. "Are you going to call it ‘A Tale of Two Bookshops’?" Craig Florence, owner of Mother Foucault's asks. We are not. The Mercury merely finds it interesting that two of Portland's most beloved literary spaces—Literary Arts and Mother Foucault's—have just opened shops across the street from one another. Their addresses are one number away from being the same. They're bound to get each other's mail. We visited and spoke with heads at both spaces, marveling at the careful, spreadsheet-driven approach of Literary Arts' years of planning and the controlled chaos of Mother Foucault's getting 100 people to carry boxes two blocks. If Mayor Keith Wilson hasn't yet declared this stretch of road a book corridor, it's certainly worthy. "Keith Wilson should smash a book in the street, and declare it," I ventured. This idea was not endorsed by either shop.  Photo by Suzette Smith Literary Arts 716 SE Grand, 10 am - 9 am daily, literary-arts.org In February 2022, I noticed that an Anis Mojgani poem had been printed on a window on SE Grand, in a branded Literary Arts red hue and typeface. I reached out to the nonprofit to ask about it, and received radio silence.Literary Arts executive director Andrew Proctor, admits that, back then, the staff was being a little coy.  "That's a funny story," he continues. "During pre-construction, the windows were getting tagged a lot. Our graffiti removal guy was like: 'You know what stops graffiti? Other graffiti.'" He advised Proctor to cover the windows with something that made the building look occupied. "I was like, 'it can't be that simple,' and he said, 'I think it is,'" Proctor tells. The organization commissioned five poems from local poets including Mojgani, Ashley Toliver, and Dao Strom. "We frosted the glass, put up the poems, and immediately stopped getting tagged."   While 2022 feels like ages ago, the idea of moving to Literary Arts' new home on SE Grand, which opened officially on December 7, has been in the works for much longer.   Following a period of impressive growth from 2010-2019, which saw the organization acquire an ongoing Portland book festival called Wordstock and rename it the extremely literal title of Portland Book Festival, Literary Arts began to see itself as a destination for readings and various classes, outside of festival season. They were outgrowing their rented rooms on SW Washington, and rather than try to develop a rented space, Literary Arts began looking for a permanent location. However, when the pandemic arrived, the team put those plans to the side. Proctor says he toured 716 SE Grand in 2020, and thought: "Yeah, this would be it, but we don't have any money." But then, in yet another unforeseen development, Literary Arts board member Susan Hammer died in March 2020. She left the organization a catalytic gift (catalysis meaning material that accelerates a chemical reaction) of 3 million dollars, which drew in other contributions, despite the open-ended uncertainty of the time. Fundraising lasted another two years, and then with the help of Bora Architecture & Interiors and Edlen & Company, Literary Arts began to renovate the light industrial space, which was built in 1904, making sure to maintain various historical flourishes, like the "Fuller Paint" tiling in the bookshop's entryway and faded lettering on exposed brick walls that spelled out old signage, like "Real Estate... Insurance." Visible steel beams are a sign of the extensive seismic retrofit. Faded lettering on exposed brick walls. Photo by Suzette Smith "Fuller Paint" tiling in the bookshop's entryway. Photo by Suzette Smith The renovation created three floors for use, with a bookshop on the main one, connecting to an upstairs mezzanine. A small cafe shares the bookstore space, and shelves in the shop were designed to move easily so the organization can continue to host readings, with a capacity of up to 75 people. Then there are several classrooms and meeting rooms throughout, including one in the basement, where there's also a very-chill-looking wellness room which could be used to feed or care for a baby. A private floor above the mezzanine contains offices for Literary Arts staff.  On the other side of the sale, Literary Arts is in a stable place. Proctor says, "We were able to buy the building in cash—no mortgage, no debt. And that changes the economics fundamentally, right? We don't have rent to pay. We have operating costs, but in terms of being your own master, it's a really big deal." "Historically, Grand hasn't been amazing," he says. "It's a state highway, it [was once] a federal highway, but we really believe this is a great place for us to be and a great community to be in."   A sign on the door of Mother Foucalt's new shop. photo by suzette smith Mother Foucault's Bookshop 715 SE Grand, motherfoucaultsbookshop.com On December 26—Boxing Day—over 100 people helped storied little bookshop Mother Foucault's move approximately two blocks, into a new storefront that will hopefully house it permanently. "In the space of three hours people just walked over the whole collection," the shop's owner Craig Florence says.  There's no bad blood about needing to leave Morrison. He'd known about it for about a year because the Clifford Apartments, which his shop occupied the bottom floor storefront of, received a grant and had long been planning to renovate the building.  In early March, a sign on the front door reads: "Not quite ready yet… opening Jan 29, Feb 13, Mar 4." [UPDATE: At press time, Florence said the shop would formally reopen on March 14, but now he's saying April 14. -eds.] Although you could also point out that Mother Foucault's isn't exactly closed; it's  just in disarray. The door is unlocked; the shelves are filling back up with books, but there's also someone assembling a bookcase with power tools. Aside from Florence and the shop's Tuesday/Wednesday clerk Will Spray, all the help has been volunteer. "People come by everyday. We've been putting people to work," he says.  Mother Foucault's in progress. Photo by Suzette Smith Unlike the  staunchly general interest bookshop run by Literary Arts—neighbors across SE Grand—Mother Foucault's stocks vintage and rare works. "No cookbooks, no children's books," Florence says, before admitting that he actually does have a few children's books now. Approximately 30 percent of it is poetry. Then there's classic works you might expect and a luxury of writing on film and theater.  The new space feels bigger, but Florence says it's actually the same size, with a much more open floor plan. The stage is larger and more centrally located. Those who visited the shop on SE Morrison may have found themselves sometimes stuck facing a bookshelf, at a reading, instead of their literary fav. That will probably still happen, but perhaps less often. And Mother Foucault’s didn't only have readings; they had live music too. Florence plans to continue that—something happening on Friday and Saturday nights, most weekends. Mother Foucault's has always felt ancient inside. Florence opened it in 2011, and while 14 years for a small business is certainly respectable, it doesn't feel like enough time to explain the shop's vibes. Florence says he's always hoped to bring some of the feel he found at Shakespeare and Company—an iconic bookstore in Paris, France—where he lived in the '90s. Shakespeare and Co. is famous for letting writers and artists sleep on its store benches, in exchange for a little work around the stacks. Those who have done this—there's a level of prestige—are called Tumbleweeds. Florence estimates Portland has about 20-25 Tumbleweeds, counting Joe from Belmont Books among them. 715 SE Grand's owners have given Florence the opportunity to buy the building outright. Asked about his fundraising efforts, he says, "I've been telling everyone I know that I need 1.5 million dollars." In the event of a sale or not, he's also leasing the building's second floor, which he hopes to turn into artists studios—not exactly free and not exactly a place to sleep, but hopefully providing space for artists to work and co-mingle. In any form, it will be an improvement on the shop's previous residency location, which was in a cramped space behind Florence's desk. ...read more read less