“Would you ever move back to Cleveland?” I’m asked this fairly often by people wearing a half-smirk, half-scoff. Confusion and distrust appear as I always answer, “Absolutely.”
It isn’t always easy to convey the considerable merits of my much-maligned hometown to an outsider; but no matter, we’re not out to convert the masses. Yet, Cleveland native and Iron Chef, Michael Symon’s recently published Love Letter to Cleveland so ardently articulates the feeling so many of us have for the city, I’m moved to share it here.
Spring is in full swing, and already your summer sched is filling with incoming visitors. While the various boat tours traversing Lake Michigan and the Chicago River are a reliable go-to for out-of-town guests, how many times can you hear “Mies van der Rohe” before you’re snooze cruising in the sun? For an active take on the waterway tour try seeing Chicago by kayak.
There are several companies that guide kayak tours in the city, but I’d recommend Kayak Chicago. Offering tours by day, night, architectural sites, or sunset Kayak Chicago has any vantage covered. The Fireworks Paddle tour ($65) is a gorgeous way to watch the sun dim on the skyline and city lights reflect luminously on the river.
No kayaking experience is required, but I’d think twice about bringing the athletically averse on this tour. I’d also advise against the two-person kayak, despite how effective you deem your couple’s communication. Unless you regularly work the core kayaking muscle groups, you’re going to feel the burn a little. At first, I gazed longingly toward the passing booze cruises, but I found my paddling stride and enjoyed taking an active role in sight-seeing.
Just as different sights capture my attention whether I’m running, driving, or walking, it’s interesting to admire the city gliding at water level. I somewhat expected the Chicago River to look like the cave in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, ghostly souls glaring up from beneath the surface. Fortunately, the worst I saw was the expected bit of trash. While the eye is naturally drawn to the skyscraper preening above, kayaking allows you to admire the gulls nesting amid ancient driftwood.
Fireworks tours take place on Wednesday and Saturday evenings. Unfortunately, a violent storm chose to roll into town the evening of my tour so instead of a reprieve with a majestic view, my tired arms had to paddle double-time back upriver before it hit. Kayak Chicago was kind enough to offer everyone in the group a complimentary tour as compensation. Before turning back we plunged through the water arc at Melas Centennial Fountain, an exhilarating way to anoint yourself in the Chicago River experience.
The next time you wave down to kayakers on the river, take a moment to notice what they’re seeing from below. To kayak the Chicago River, you must become aware of its movement, patterns, and passing watercraft – you must connect with the living artery of the city.
Kayak Chicago
1501 N. Magnolia Ave.
Chicago, IL 60622
Don’t worry gents, I’m still on the market. Yet you don’t need to be a bride to blush at BHLDN, the dreamy new bridal boutique from the Anthropologie family. BHLDN recently celebrated its one-year anniversary by opening its second retail location, and Chicago was treated to a romantic reception.
The stunning 3,600 square-foot townhouse is a treasure trove of glamorous adornment. Between their place cards and pumps, garters and gowns, BHLDN’s attire and trimmings offer a multi-dimensional special occasion. The pastel swathed showroom of the first floor is bursting with lace, tulle, and chiffon that bridesmaids will be begging to re-wear. Glass cases display vintage-looking accessories with a curatorial air. It’s almost as if earrings and gloves were plucked from a flea market and showcased in a museum, begging to be bought.
Atop the winding staircase, angel wings hover over the whimsy of the second floor. Gorgeous headpieces, shoes, dresses, and baubles command attention, while the lingerie room lures you astray. Another nook allows brides to pull the perfect pinwheels and candlesticks to personalize their decor.
And then there are the gowns. About 45 luxe looks strike a pose in the bridal salon ranging from understated, to sweet, to seriously chic.
Over 300 guests attended BHLDN’s launch, which featured guest hostess Darcy Miller Nussbaum of Martha Stewart Weddings. Judging by Chicago’s response it’s a match made in happily ever after.
The sickest adventures often begin in venturing up a steep stairwell to a sparse white room. Inhabiting a former art gallery, a blank canvas of sorts is tucked away in plain sight on Clark Street in Andersonville. Specializing in improv, Upstairs Gallery offers Chicago a refreshing new performance space – for free.
Founded by a group of improvisers who met while training at iO, Upstairs Gallery is an evolving endeavor in experimentation. Partners Alex Honnet and Walt Delaney began playing in the space in the fall of 2010 while it was a functioning art gallery and music recording studio. “We’d be doing a show and then get drowned out by a drum solo,” says Delaney. Just as their runs began to build momentum, the art gallery owners decided to close up shop. After discovering via Gchat they weren’t accepted to an established improv team, the guys knew they couldn’t lose the space and signed the Upstairs Gallery lease without even reading it.
In Chicago’s competitive comedy scene, Upstairs Gallery has proven an attractive venue for players of all experience since it started running full-time last May. With a small room, minimal tech extras, and lights that are always up, Upstairs Gallery’s setting strips away standard expectations in a landscape of established theaters. It’s A Room of One’s Own for performers from novice players without a home to seasoned standouts in need of a place they can take risks. “There’s no pressure, and that lends itself to a sense of experimentation,” says Honnet. “It’s a space where people can try interesting things and have fun.”
The price of admission to sit at the edge of this freewheeling performance enterprise? Free. With around seven shows or rehearsals taking place per week, there’s plenty of opportunity to enjoy complimentary LOLs. While money-making is not its main venture, Upstairs Gallery does accept donations and periodically fundraises in order to sponsor teams to be sent to comedy festivals.
On a Friday evening several weeks ago, Upstairs Gallery was packed with twenty-something attendees and an eager energy for Sick Adventure, the space’s signature monthly show. It seemed no one knew what to expect, but they knew it was going to be good. Improv teams of Vegetable Demon, That Uncle No One Likes, and Honor Student Breakfast brought it, along with sketch by Seth and Kellen. In the next room, a Bit Bizarre hawked $1 portrait drawing and ex-Juggalo handshakes to raise money for teams hoping to attend the North Carolina Comedy Arts Festival. After an underwhelming visit days before to a noteworthy improv establishment, Upstairs Gallery delivered the dropkick in the side I missed.
“The feedback from the audience is so visceral because you’re so close to crowd, they’re practically onstage,” asserts Honnet. “It’s like surfing; you’re riding the wave of their energy. Here, you know when the audience is responding because you feel it in your blood.”
In a city saturated with comedic enterprises, Andersonville is underrepresented saving the nearby Neo-Fururists. “Andersonville is such a distinct neighborhood, and the residents are excited to have us here,” says partner Caitlin Stephan. “People pop in all the time. They’re becoming more and more interested and we feel really supported by the community.”
If you’re ready to ride, Upstairs Gallery will guide with its passion for performance. “People do bad scenes all the time, and usually you’re given the benefit of the doubt. But a great scene – people remember that,” says Delaney. “People will approach you about a scene you did in training or show years later and say they still remember it. And if you did that scene with someone you have a kind of kinship with them, you might not have anything else in common but that great moment together that made people happy.”
As for the darker side of comedic exploits, I asked Honnet for his worst pickup line. “Does your dad work for the Taliban?…because you da bomb.”
Looking for somewhere warm to pop in during your last mad shopping dash? If you’re in the Chicago Loop at lunchtime consider a stroll through City Hall. Children’s choirs from all over the city will be performing every weekday between noon and 1 pm through December 21.
City Hall’s gorgeous hundred-year-old hallways are bathed in festive lighting as they reverberate with the carols of Chicago’s young voices.
Happy holidays from the Keller Regional Gifted Center!
Chicago is known for packing in outdoor fun in the summer months, but don’t assume a drop in degrees scares everyone inside. Chicagoans can be seen gliding, staggering, slipping, and pirouetting on the ice all winter long.
Nestled under The Bean along Michigan Avenue, the McCormick Tribune Ice Rink at Millenium Park is the most recognizable of the ten rinks citywide. Admission to all rinks is free, with the exception of the Rink at Wrigley and the McFetridge Sports Center, which is year-round indoor rink. Bring your own skates or rent them for a nominal fee and you’re off on the ice!
It’s one thing to admire the postcard-worthy vantage of the Millenium Park rink and quite another to sail gracefully into the scene with impeccable balance and rosy cheeks, the difference being that skating is much more fun! I have fond memories of ice skating as a kid, when the distance to fall was far less, but the memory of months more recently spent in a shoulder cast kept me shy of the rink for too long.
Haven’t skated in a while, or ever? It’s a bit like riding a bike, or rather, roller blading. The real challenge isn’t in the footwork, but the entertaining awareness of your fellow skaters. It’s easy to get distracted by the woman performing double axels at center ice and overlook the fellow who’s lost his balance, grasping for the edge and heading straight for you. A kid up to your knee-caps maneuvers laps between all as you manage to avoid crashing into the high school clique skating four-across around a turn.
Skating in the city, with a refreshing chill in the air, a cup of cocoa, and Mariah Carey’s encouragement through the speakers, is only improved after a few turns round the rink when you’re able to look up and enjoy the stunning skyline. The $10 skate rental fee is well worth an hour or entire afternoon of winter delight downtown, in an activity that I’m surprised to say I’ll be enjoying much more before March 11, 2012 at the close of rink’s skating season.
The funny thing about New York City is that it’s not so much an American city. Its street scenes wouldn’t soak in seamlessly if dropped in Iowa or Florida, but NYC is recognizable to us all. We’ve seen New York’s images replayed in films, sitcoms, and dorm room posters, its representations feeling so characteristic and yet so familiar. I don’t whether such a thing as “Old New York” ever really existed or if tourists are searching for a version associated with Henry James, Patti Smith, or Sex and City circa the late 90’s (before Carrie owned a cell phone). Is New York An Affair to Remember or greater parts Taxi Driver? More likely it has something to do with Sinatra, but no matter which New York you’re craving Arturo’s serves a bona fide slice.
Step inside Arturo’safter a day of battle navigating and snapping pictures, and allow the enveloping live jazz to cure your urban ennui. Its three tight rooms are crowded and chaotic, with amiable staff ensuring the steady stream of Cabernet rivers over the energetic din and gesturing limbs. You’ll have to squeeze by the piano at the end of the long bar and make sure not to block the view of the upright bass shaking out jazz standards. Wood-paneled walls are lined salon-style with oil paintings done in varying levels of style and technique by none other than the owner. Unlike many NYC destinations, the atmosphere is comfortable, like you’re a guest in someone’s home. A giant bath tub roosting in the single bathroom confirms the homey feeling and oh I wonder the stories it could share.
Arturo’s offers a full menu of Italian fare but we dive straight for the pie, pointing to our chosen of many available toppings because the waiter isn’t quite able to hear us. The place is packed with gatherings of families and friends sharing the signature coal-oven pizza – we’ve made the right choice. First there’s an arugula salad that’s fresh and not overdressed, topped by a heavy hand with shaved parmesan. The large pizza is more than enough for three, perhaps a bit too coal-fired in this instance, but the outer ring’s singe compliments the slightest hint of sweetness in the well restrained sauce (I’m not a big marinara person). The flavors meld with fresh mozzarella, parmesan, tomato, and liberally applied basil. Deep dish has its place in my heart, but New York-style wins this round in the battle of the binge.
The outer ring’s singe compliments the slightest hint of sweetness in the well restrained sauce.
We didn’t seek out Arturo’s that Saturday, rather we wove in street lights’ gleam until we found something seeming accessible, affordable, and delicious. Months later reading David Byrne’s Bicycle Diaries, I happened upon a passage describing Arturo’s of all places in a section entitled The Old Crazy New York II. “Arturo’s is a neighborhood joint. There are a lot of regulars. It is not the sort of place that would ever attract the attention of serious foodies or get mentioned in the new trendy guides to New York City.”* Is it the music, the wine, the clutter of local clientele that give Arturo’s an air of Old New York? Are the comfortable characteristics lending a familiarity that I mistake for something I only think I know about what New York means? Any way you slice it, the stuff is good and I’m craving a return just as long as Arturo’s is serving jazz and coal-fired pie. Whichever version of NYC you’re after it’s sure to satisfy.
Quick Bites
Arugula Salad: < $10
Large Pizza: $19
Bath in the House Tub: Management’s Discretion
Arturo’s 106 West Houston Street
New York, NY 10012
“I want the pen to be on par with the bayonet, ” wrote Soviet poet, Vladimir Maiakovskii. During the Second World War, Soviet troops were not only found on the battlefield. Hundreds of artists joined their comrades in defense of the Motherland by producing propaganda posters nearly every day of the war from 1941 – 1946 for TASS, the Soviet Union’s press agency.
“Windows on the War: Soviet TASS Posters at Home and Abroad, 1941-1945,” on exhibition through this weekend at the Art Institute of Chicago, features a collection of the rare surviving posters which have not been seen in the United States since the war. The posters offer a fascinating vantage into the artistic, cultural, and historical perspective of the Soviet Union from the early stages of World War II through “Victory!”
Nikolai Fedorovich Denisovskii and Pavel Petrovich Sokolov-Skalia. Our One Thousandth Blow, 1944. Soviet artists, writers, and soldiers join forces against the wolf-like enemy.
“You don’t even need to read the captions,” commented my Russian colleague as we traversed time through the images, taking me much longer as I read each translation. “The posters speak for themselves.” Indeed, the images of starving Soviet children, villagers locked alive in a burning church, Stalingrad under siege, caricatures of Nazi scoundrels, and stalwart Mother Russia beckoning aid express so much without understanding their Cyrillic script. The posters employ a range of styles to achieve their message from folkloric tradition, through graphic satire, Socialist realism, historical idealization, and the grotesque. Speaking loudly, vibrantly, they convey the same ideals in so many different ways.
Vladimir Vladimirovich Maiakovskii. Forward, Comrades, to New Positions!!(ROSTA 289), 1921. A watercolor in the folkloric style warns against letting down the cause’s guard to rest after victory.
Pavel Petrovich Sokolov-Skalia. Untitled, 1943.
Stalin and representatives from an array of the Soviet Union’s ethnicies unite gazing westward under the banner of the Communist Youth Organization in an example of Socialist realism.
At first glance, one would hardly notice that each large, vivid artwork is a series of stenciled images painted entirely by hand on newsprint. This method took the skill of a team of artists, cutters, painters, trimmers, and technicians to produce the posters on a massive scale, but bypassed the need for machinery during the limitations of the war. With each color in the poster’s design requiring a different stencil, the most intricate designs demanded up to 70 different stencils. These commanding artworks stood between five and ten feet tall in Soviet storefront windows providing inspiration, incitement, and darkly comic relief to its citizens.
Artist Alexis Petroff was contracted to painstakingly reproduce the cutting, stenciling, and painting of the 30 layers required to create The Moralistic Wolf. The intricate process is documented in the short film by The Art Institute below.
Alexis Petroff. Recreated prints of The Moralistic Wolf.
Pavel Petrovich Sokolov-Skalia. Defenders of Moscow, 1941. Portraying the air raids on Moscow, this poster is the largest in the exhibition comprised of 17 panels and standing 11 feet tall. The last panel reads, “With valor and courage the entire nation greets each hostile air raid.”
The themes expressed in the propaganda afford a fascinating view of how the Soviets viewed themselves, the enemy, and the fate of the world at this critical time in history. The Motherland, the heroic past, the idealized leadership, cultural legacy, and partisan patriotism are expectedly featured extensively. The many satirical incarnations of Hitler and the Axis are insightful and entertaining, with simultaneous portrayals of the disturbing and preposterous. As writer Vladimir Kemenov said, “The moment the foe becomes ridiculous he ceases to be terrifying.”
Pavel Petrovich Sokolov-Skalia. Hitler and “Fraternal” Austria, 1945.
Kukryniksy. The Metamorphosis of the “Fritzes,” 1943.
Pavel Petrovich Sokolov-Skalia. Iasnaia Poliana, Istra, and Klin, 1941. Natzis loot and destroy cultural sites including the homes of Tolstoy, Checkov, andTchaikovsky.
Deeply interesting is the relationship between the Soviet Union and the United States as depicted in the posters. Initially, the US is seen as a greedy, capitalist state in comparison to the hardworking and righteous Soviets. Yet the artwork eventually celebrates the alliance of the USSR, United States, and Great Britain to a degree which I hadn’t previously seen. My Russian friend was also surprised by the unbridled acclamation of the Allies’ role: “That was no longer in the history books by the time I went to school.”
Nikolai Fedorovich Denisovskii. Victory!, May 12, 1945. “May this day remain through the ages a union of friendship, glory, and valor! The Fascist beast is forever turned to ash. Victory has come! And in her hands the flags of the free peoples proudly wave. The world has never seen such victories. Honor to our heroes! Greetings to our Allies!“
While made of stencils and paint, the 250 posters of Windows on the War offer a rich and provocative glimpse into the Soviet perspective during World War II. While only a small collection of the posters, produced with cheap and accessible wartime supplies, has survived, several were actually discovered stuffed into a closet at The Art Institute in 1997. Back on display as intended, their intricate detailing and coloration, their expression, have not faded with time. The work of these wartime artists is a tangible reminder of the debt of gratitude owed to history’s soldiers, both brush and bayonet, and the incomparable power of art.
The smell of paint stings the air as you stand in a stranger’s kitchen. Adjusting a pair of headphones, you take a long sip of wine considering a surreal multi-media installation. Next, you turn down a dim alley, following a sign that promises, “Bad Reading” only to happen upon a courtyard adorned in strands of twinkling light. One room resonates with the visceral stomp of a gorgeous flamenco troupe, and you can’t even see through the spectator thronged windows. Two writers spin supernatural stories in the room across the way. Wrapped up in their yarns, you catch a chill, but it’s only an early autumn breeze blowing in tinsel that hangs in the door frame. You amble toward a gallery around the corner. It’s Friday night and you’re in Pilsen.
Known as the Chicago Arts District, the area in Pilsen surrounding South Halsted and 18th Streets is home to several galleries, studios, and creative spaces. Each month, around 30 of the area’s artistic spaces are open to the public as part of the 2nd Fridays Gallery Night. Between 6 and 10 pm, this free event gives you access to the places where Chicago artists live, create, and showcase their work. This weekend, the 41st Annual PilsenEast Artists’ Open House offers another opportunity to experience first-hand the faces and spaces of this creative community. As part of Chicago Artists Month in October, more than 65 artistic environments will be open for public exploration.
Pick up a map at the event information center (1821 S Halsted St.) or just stroll between open spaces on this self-guided tour. You may be drawn in by the siren song of a live blues band, or a bright light display artist. Other spaces are marked with a makeshift sign in a dimly lit corridor directing you to a “gallery” upstairs. One window display features stark elemental wood sculptures, one a curious yarn installation, and the next a probing social commentary utilizing televisions. A collection of pen & ink drawings interpreting Pinocchio are revealed to be the stirring catharsis in coping with a parent’s death, as discovered in a rare and enlightening discussion with the artist herself.
Pilsen, while growing ever more popular, is still an overlooked feast of inspiration in Chicago. The Artists’ Open House and 2nd Fridays offer an unequivocally intimate encounter with artists and galleriests in their working and living spaces. When I ask an artist why they produce in Pilsen, chatting in her living room and nibbling on pastries made by her aunt, the reply is straightforward, “the artistic community is unequaled.” As much as my spirit soars in an art museum, and ruminates in a well-curated gallery selection, the connection made viewing a work in its birth space cannot be overestimated. Noticing disregarded paint spatters on the floor, a sheet hanging to cover the exposed contents of a closet or pantry, the sleeping space in a small gallery, the dishes in the sink – all of this reminds you that this is someone’s passion, that they are living it. Suddenly, no matter your initial reaction to their work, a deeper significance is illuminated.
Back on the street, you find yourself taking place in an interactive music installation. “We want to engage people with music and everyday items they can interact with,” you are told while drumming with PVC pipe. “This way everyone is a part of it, and the experience keeps changing.” The Chicago Arts District reminds us that art is out there. It needn’t be erudite or unapproachable. Walk with it, breathe it in, play it, question it, and consume it in Pilsen.
The PilsenEast Artists’ Open House 9/30: 6-10 pm
10/1 and10/2: 12-7 pm
Chicago is shining today, and the crisp white tents lining Printer’s Row point upward as if suspended by strings from the cerulean sky. The South Loop streets no longer harbor the hum of the city’s publishing industry or the clamor of commute at Dearborn Station, but they draw 125,000 visitors nonetheless. Each June, the Printer’s Row Lit Fest attracts booksellers, bibliophiles, publishers, authors, performers, and organizations to the historic neighborhood for a celebration of all things literary.
The largest free outdoor literary event in the Midwest packs Dearborn and Polk streets with stacks and shelves. There are so many words to consume in the new books with freshly inked signatures and stiff bindings, well-worn paperbacks, deliciously dusty volumes, plastic wrapped rarities, posters, prints, magazines, and manuals. It’s a struggle, but I limit myself to a handful of finds – one can only carry so many books on the train after all. I purchase another edition of A Confederacy of Dunces, this one a copy from 1980, the year of its first publication. “Ah excellent selection,” nods the vendor, “it’s one of my favorites.”
The volunteer t-shirts proclaim “Get Lit,” and I feel veritably drunk on contentment. I sway between booths, run my fingers over leather-bound stacks, discover new Chicago publishers, and enjoy the common bliss of so many book lovers. Spanning seven stages, the fest events include readings, signings, discussions, children’s storytelling, and musical performances. A breeze wafts through the tent as I take in a reading of David Baker’s poetry, and I let his words wash over me, soaking in them as I am the late afternoon sunlight. Down the street at the Hotel Blake, Elynne Chaplik-Aleskow transports us to Israel in a reading chronicling an incredible experience of friendship spanning 40 years, the power of technology, and several countries.
Over all of this, the sentry of the Dearborn station tower gazes on, its stopped clock a reminder of temporal futility and the tenuous timing of print media. Yet this is no museum. Under the station’s watch, Chicago’s devout yearn for literature, enlightenment, and expression. Now is the time – to read, to write, to learn, and to explore. I leave Lit Fest with not too many books, a list of many more, several new contacts, a sense of fulfillment, and so much inspiration. It’s a moveable feast indeed.
