Saturday, November 08, 2014

Midwesterners, like Honey Badgers, Don't Care!

After David Bowie I had some time to kill before my Hubbard Street show, and I needed food and possibly a drink. I sent a message to the Author to find out where he was hiding. Since he had recently moved to Chicago I figured it was time we have a moment together to drink and reflect on life.

Me: Day drinking?

Author: Day drinking. Where?

Me: I’m downtown. Just got out of the Bowie exhibit.

Author: I can be downtown in about an hour. Where to meet?

Me: I’ll send you the location once I know what it is.

Author: Where are you going?

Me: No idea. Need food, not sure what.

Author: Cool.

Where I ended up was Mi Casa down on Ontario just off Michigan. They were having (for no readily apparent reason) a free beer special.

Me: Meet me at Mi Casa, you are drinking free beer.

Author: Hardship.

I had tequilas and some soup and waited. The Author showed up about two shots later and we both grabbed a respectable amount of grub while talking. He discussed settling into Chicago, I shared settling into New York.

“The thing about Midwesterners seems to be that they don’t care about anybody else.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s like, they don’t care if you are interested or not, they are just going to do what they fuck they want.”

“Now you know that I come by it honest.”

Hard to disagree with that.

I shared my Bowie experience and he asked me how I was killing time between now and the Bowie exhibit.

“I was thinking of going to renew my Art Institute membership.” This prompted an art discussion in which the Author regaled me with a description of a recently resurfaced exhibit on the modern side of the AIC.

“It’s a thousand hanging little strands of silicone, and you walk through it.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” But, really, that was what he was talking about. This particular instillation was about 40 years old, and was originally exhibited in Chicago, but had been in a private collection somewhere for about 30 years. The point of the instillation is for the viewer to interact with it by walking into it, thus disturbing the flow of this shower of hanging plastic fronds, but at the same time, with the creation of movement creating a moment that was in and of itself art. This was just the kind of fascinating modern art instillation that I enjoyed. It made me recall a piece I had seen at AIC maybe four or five years ago of a sound instillation that you walked into and added your voice to. The voices were collected, and projected based on movement through the exhibit. It was fascinating and I spent about forty minutes walking through it.

“Let’s do it.”


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