BALLARD — Kayla Carabes stood in Seattle’s Bergen Place Park on Sunday holding a large oil painting of everyone’s favorite short-spined raccoon, depicting the world-famous critter as a giant towering among the skyline, the Space Needle and Mount Rainier.
The 24-year-old Seattle resident pulled an all-nighter to make the piece ahead of the big art contest, only sleeping for an hour while marathoning “The Sopranos” and putting oil to canvas.
“My dad always showed me big Godzilla movies, with these huge monsters, and I was thinking about how big Jimothy is,” said Carabes, adding: “I wanted to capture just how big he is in the Seattle community and also just get all of the landmarks.”
Deep in the heart of Jimothy country, aka his home neighborhood of Ballard, hundreds of people gathered Sunday to celebrate the short-spined raccoon who has gone viral. In less than two weeks since a resident shot a five-second video of Jimothy emerging from under a car in Ballard, the raccoon — thought to have a spinal deformity — has gone viral, become a piece of pop art and inspired people across the planet.
The celebration, hosted by Seattle City Councilmember Alexis Mercedes Rinck, included an art contest and a city proclamation honoring the unique mammal by coining the era as “Jimothy Summer.”
“Whether it’s putting cream cheese on our hot dogs or gum on the wall, or having a giant statue of a troll or a giant statue of Lenin, having a hot rat mosaic in a park or having a disabled raccoon in your backyard,” Rinck said, “these are the things that make us Seattle and I could not be more proud.”
To the delight of the Jimothy faithful, Rinck had stood above the crowd showing off every single piece of scores of paintings, drawings, sculptures and other manifestations of the critter.
There were black-and-white sketch drawings of the mammal, a poster-sized “Star Wars”-themed Jimothy and miniature replicas. When Rinck showed off a Jimothy piñata, someone behind her shouted that it contained a single shot of liquor.
“I’m just glad it inspired people, brought some whimsy,” said Sonya Salehnia, who watched from the crowd. The Seattle resident, 41, had learned of Jimothy through social media and was surprised when friends from as far away as Japan reached out to talk about Jimothy.
No proper gathering in Seattle goes without a discussion of the region’s housing crisis: One rendering of Jimothy depicted a chain saw and cut-down trees and read, “Jimothy was evicted,” while another piece of art had big letters that read, “Urban wildlife need homes too.”
Like Bob Dylan shying away from his Nobel Prize banquet, Jimothy was nowhere to be seen.
But a piece of art made a request on the critter’s behalf, cribbing from President John F. Kennedy’s 1961 inaugural address to the nation: “Ask not what Jimothy can do for you, but what you can do for Jimothy.”
Rinck announced two winners of the Jimothy art contest, including the piece by Carabes. The other, “St. Jimothy,” was a stained-glass depiction of the raccoon, in the pious style of St. Rat, another small mammal of Seattle folklore. Both winning will be displayed in Seattle City Hall.
“Get home safely, take care, and long live Jimothy!” added Rinck, as the crowd began to chant its name.
Correction: An earlier version of this story misspelled Kayla Carabes’ name.
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