Nathan Vass
Nathan Vass is an artist, filmmaker, photographer, and author by day, and a Metro bus driver by night, where his community-building work has been showcased on TED, NPR, The Seattle Times, KING 5 and landed him a spot on Seattle Magazine’s 2018 list of the 35 Most Influential People in Seattle. He has shown in over forty photography shows is also the director of nine films, six of which have shown at festivals, and one of which premiered at Henry Art Gallery. His book, The Lines That Make Us, is a Seattle bestseller and 2019 WA State Book Awards finalist.
Nathan Vass shares his remembrances of fellow driver Shawn Yim, who was murdered
during a late-night shift earlier this month. He also urges leaders to prevent future tragedies with robust interventions.
The most lasting advice I received in art school was to "think about how I think." To question why I respond this or that way, and to remember that the response is always a choice. Now that people talk to each other less on the bus, there's a lot...
Nathan Vass will be joining The Urbanist Book Club on Tuesday, April 4 at 6pm. Sign up is available here. And you can pick up his book, The Lines That Make Us, which we will be discussing.
I can still see fairly well without my glasses, but I can’t make...
Nathan Vass will be joining The Urbanist Book Club on Tuesday, April 4 at 6pm. Sign up is available here. And you can pick up his book, The Lines That Make Us, which we will be discussing.
“Nathaniel!” Marlon called out from midway back on my E Line.“Heyyy,” I replied....
Was there a soul leftover at the end of this, another nighttime trip on the E Line? I looked in my rear-view mirror. Yes, there was. There are canned announcements you can play to ask people to leave, or follow directions, but I never use them. Just tell the...
“Yes, I have perhaps suffered more than you. Yet I do not succumb to despair.”-Chekhov
I prefer to ride in the last train car but couldn’t tonight, as it reeked of fentanyl. Little did I know this would be something I would later be thankful for. I scurried onto one...
The world was ending, or so we thought. The malaise people forgot previously existed was once again upon us, a new and bodied thing, stifling our ability to believe. There was the late summer smoke and all the disillusionment it brought, the toxic glory of sunsets with double meanings,...
Look at the two of them swaggering onboard, one man tall and the other short, their arhythmic head-bobbing, shoulder-swagging, pimp-rolling gait living out as large a square of real estate as a few steps can contain. They roved into the bus’s entryway as if in slow motion, giant mythological...