Last Chance

Haven't I been telling them for years? Come to Chicago! We've got a world class city here folks. People travel here from all around the world to see the grandeur, the art and architecture, the famous streets and stores, the lake that looks like the ocean, such that the city has actual sandy beaches right here in the middle of the country. But no, twenty-two years and I could count the visitors on just my fingers, no toes needed. Well this time, the suggestion was firmer: you are running out of time, because we have soaked up as much mid western love as we can, and we are ready to move on to a new coastal adventure. Not sure the exact date of departure, but sometime before the weather turns colder in 2015. So let's do this town together one more time.

This summer we had two sets of company in quick succession: reunion of high school besties on my side, and reunion of childhood besties/first cousins on his. I was so occupied with being hostess and tour guide and enjoying myself in the bargain, that the photos caught on the run or in a few quiet moments in the hotel room will have to serve as the evidence of what I said: this is a special place with a kind of energy that will either invigorate or suck you dry. Luckily for us, it has inspired and refreshed and now we are ready for a city of more personal dimensions. But that is a story for later.

The images here aren't necessarily in a chronological (or logical order), but represent moments on the fly of playfulness, companionship with company, strangers, and the city itself. It is a place that invites awe: so often you must look up to behold it, but also, it invites participation.

We see ourselves reflected in an iconic sculpture.

Sometimes we are lost in the image.

Sometimes the image seems illusive to capture.

The view in summer is complicated with foliage and people. Winter, though difficult on some levels, is the ideal time for broad expanses.

Unless you stand on a bridge high above the fray.

Short among the tall, but I can aspire to their heights.

From the river, a juxtaposition of old and new. The best way to view the history of architecture and commerce: a river tour.

Trump's tower was just as easy to spot without the monster sized letters. It was far more pure and beautiful a design without.

But this water garden in a plaza at its base is peaceful and low key, and  invites even those of us without the "bucks" to pause and reflect.

A typical architectural tour boat ready for a spin.

I can never get enough of Marina Towers, either day or night views.

Too busy enjoying my company and my food experience, this shot of a typical food station at "'Eataly" is the only one to survive the day.

Back at "Cloudgate," aka "The Bean," I take delight in images and the joy of other visitors as we each dance the same dance with reflection, distortion, and imagining.

For just a moment I feel so connected to the joy of art, the crowds, and the city.

The "Crown Fountain" by Jaume Plensa bears the images of hundreds of real Chicagoans on its two 50 foot towers with cascading water and a shallow wading pool that draws children and delight.

About every five minutes the face of the moment becomes a gargoyle as it "spits" water from its mouth onto the waiting crowd of little ones.

The Art Institute is a favorite stop and this summer we twice attended the amazing exhibition of works by Surrealist, Rene Magritte. But almost as surprisingly arresting was the free exhibit of sculpture and mixed media painting by local artist, Hebru Brantley, called "Parade Day Rain." It will be on display at the Cultural Center through September 23, if you plan to be in town.

A view of an apartment balcony along Wabash with the resident in residence brought out my longings for the soon to be relocation to city life.

In recent years we always stay at the Hotel Monaco with the pillowed window seat views of Wabash and Wacker, the Chicago River, Marina City, Trump Tower, the el train, and my favorite city clock with a winged father time, and his lantern.

The Water Taxi, an efficient way to travel in this city that seems to have enough roadway taxis to accommodate every person who desires one.

A magic hour.

Inside the room, a mellow vibe and a goldfish. Unfortunately, this one did not survive the night. Just like in the stories where parents don't wish to traumatize their children with the reality of dead pets, my "fixer" had the floater replaced while I showered unaware of the switch.

The elevated train performs its wheel squealing turn around this bend all day and (seemingly) all night.

The girl in her window seat, the man relaxing with his Internet browser and some mellow music from "Austin City Limits" on the tube. Perfect down time after a frenetic day.

Darkness descends on a beautiful summer evening.

In this bowl there is no real day or night.

But out here the magic begins. Standing at the base of the towers across from the famous "House of Blues," we prepare for a bit of ten pin fun.

A favorite restaurant, but not this evening.

A hotel that can't settle on a name or an owner, although seemingly it has kept the same identity through recent changes. The cool and modern lobby of what was for a time the Hotel Sax.

And just next door our destination, an upscale bowling alley with music, food and alcoholic libation, a party for rent (along with the shoes.)

And so ends the day, watching the pleasure boats, and floating parties as they pass below on the river.

Surveying the dramatic skyline and taking in the energy of this beautiful night.

Magic!

The company has gone and we are on our own, taking a breather at a local historical park. 

A profile I love and that brings me peace of mind.

This is a popular place for weddings, but today we are alone enjoying the mature plantings in and around the gazebo and gardens.

Pretty soon I will be surrendering my own personal gazebo and garden for the life of sharing public spaces. I am sure there will be some sadness and nostalgia, but I doubt there will be regret. My last summer of "suburbia" is almost under my belt now. Pretty soon we are off to pay a visit to our prospective new home. I look forward to sharing that story with you soon.

A Coloring Book of Northern Spain

You may have noticed that I haven't posted recently. It is mostly because I am spending an inordinate amount of time making art. I suppose this is good, because what I mostly blog about is my creative life. On the other hand, I am finding that "making art" can become addictive to the point of not knowing why you are drawing/painting/sewing and risks becoming an itch you must scratch each day, maybe a little devoid of meaning or seriousness of intent. It's kind of like shopping when you already have a closet full of clothes. Do you really need one more of these? Will one more "creative" activity really fulfill me or be, in effect, creative in a way that helps me grow my vision or expand my talent? So I decided I should take a day off, think of something else, and continue my tour of Spain for you.

Over at Jude Hill's place, Spirit Cloth, we students are just getting settled in for her current extended session of new ways to look at creativity, design, and life, called the "What If? Diaries." We are starting our thought process with the concept of designing with all white, and the suggestion was to convert some favorite photographic images to shades of white to ponder how they may influence our first design. Part of the exercise is to consider not just the "What if I do this?" but also "What will happen if I don't do this?" As Jude's bons mots will often do, this got me thinking. What if I don't just talk about the Spain trip like a tourist, but make something of my favorite images from this segment of the journey? Will you miss the touristy photos? Will you wish I had talked about my actual itinerary. Will you be lost or stop reading. I doubt it would matter. Actually I don't really know who "you" are or what you think of my writing. Do "you" read my every episode? Wait patiently for the follow ups? Since few people ever really comment, the guiding hand here is usually what I think a person might want to know about this stuff if we were acquainted. But even more primary: what do I feel like saying about it. What do I want to share? In reality, I'm doing this for me. It's sort of my own diary, for purposes of organizing and saving the journey. I guess it's mine to decide.

Maybe if I try to please less, I will think more creatively. Trying to move away from a lifetime of crafty to something more inspired by life. I decided that an alternate means of sharing the emotions of these images would be to manipulate them just a little, to add some color or take some away. Add some light or focus on part of the image. Distort the obvious in it. I didn't do anything severe or tricky, no special filters, no layers removed or added. Simply move the sliders of the basic adjustments away from making the image as the eye had seen them to how the heart did.

So this is segment four of my trip to Spain and Portugal, from Bilbao to Fuente De, two days of drama with art and animals, along the North coast, and into the Picos de Europa.

Arachnophobes need not draw near. One only notices the bridge as a sort of spider in this cropped image. Momma, towering over baby, towering over the people below. 

Heart stopping beautiful. I almost didn't need to go inside: The Guggenheim.

Titanium, a great clean palette to paint on.

I had wanted to see this for years. How did I ever get here?

I don't usually do pretty, but...

Poetry in motion, literally.

Inside, it's like a spacecraft waiting to lift off.

Richard Serra, "The Matter of Time", an exquisite journey though walls of metal into emotion. An experience that cried out to be captured.

I did my best.

Narrow openings...

...endless paths.

Think about standing inside. How would you feel?

The entire museum, a sculpture.

And then, outside again, decompressing under the puppy's gaze.

Thinking: I'm in Spain, but what does that mean? It's a beautiful, modern country, so different than I realized. We Americans can be so out of touch.

In the medieval town of Santillana del Mar, lunch at Parador Gil Bas. Making warm memories. 

Coloring book scenes of farm country on the edge of town.

Otherworldly and yet right there.

A special treat, the town of Riano in the rain, oozing history, emoting feelings of timeless connections. A sunny day would have erased all this.

A hot, dry summer diminished the river, but added to the charm of watching a  painter working magic along the river walk.

Two more artists in the gazebo, capturing the muted colors of town in glorious rainbows.

I have lost my fear of showing myself, my emotion. I like to make self-portraits these days.

Fuente De, a place, literally, at the end of the road. The view from the room: horses, mist, a path up the mountain.

The brave among us found joy in watching the cable car's approach, knowing we were going for more than a ride up the mountain.

Dizzying heights, the hotel just a speck below.

You have to be brave; you have to experience this joy.

Absolute surprise! A view and a herd of goats and a hand washing!

They completed the view.

It was their place.

I got to rejoice for a little while in the beauty of the mountains...

in being with beautiful creatures...

...and sharing it all with the one person who really understands how much this all means to me.