In 20 Words or Less

My friend Matt Higbee and I have a writing game we play at work sometimes where we use a random prompt (it's an improv theater, so there's a lot of those) to try and write a story in 20 words or less. It started because I wanted to put together a new piece to read at Two With Water's Rx Reading Series. I was going to be traveling most of the week leading up to the reading and I wanted to get something started before I left. The theme of the reading was "Orientation."

We didn't discuss what we were doing,

Cultural Center Exhibit Proposal for the Artist Matthew Woodward

In Spring 2010 I wrote this for my friend Matt Woodward. It was pieced together from earlier statements and proposals, new thoughts and notes from Matt, new research and thoughts of my own, and mostly-accurate intuition regarding how he thinks about his work. He'll be showing new work at the Chicago Cultural Center Michigan Avenue Galleries in April-May 2012.


"The city is made, forgotten, and made again, / trucks hauling it away haul it back"  -Carl Sandburg, The Windy City

"Over the last year I have been building a body of work around the moldings and wrought iron details of the American Renaissance and Beaux-Arts movements of the turn of the twentieth century, an era which employed the conventions of European classicism to glorify the advent of a new Golden Age of progress through industrialism while constantly and necessarily shedding the accoutrements of the past in order to advance and perpetuate its own motion. The White City of the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago represented a crowning achievement of American Beaux-Arts at the same time it stood in stark contrast to...

Left of the Loop Part III: Where Have All the Pioneers Gone?

the West Loop, circa 198?

Tim W. Brown's Left of the Loop is in one sense a frontier story. If, as it is described in Frederick Jackson Turner's essay "The Frontier in American History," the frontier is a sparsely populated margin at the far edge of established settlement, then the West Loop in the Eighties fits the bill. Although the neighborhood bears no resemblance to the "meadows, timberland, mountain ranges, water systems and clean skies" traditionally associated with the frontier, Stark and Spungkdt are, by Spungkdt's own estimation, the only inhabitants for at least four square blocks or so; their Little House comes equipped with a huge industrial steel sliding gate, and their Prairie consists of weeds snaking up through cracks in the concrete.

Left of the Loop Part II: The Bone Chute

The most haunting image from the Post-Industrial Urban Apocalypse of Tim W. Brown's Left of the Loop is the bone chute located across the street from the loft. While some meat distributors and restaurant supply warehouses still remain in the neighborhood these days,  many of the large meat packing plants have now been converted into luxury lofts and tourist-destination restaurants. In the Eighties, however, the meat-packing industry was in full swing in the West Loop, making stray dismembered animal parts one of the notable features of Spungkdt & Stark's landscape.

"Perhaps the best reminder of the neighborhood's character and purpose was what Stark and I called the 'bone chute.' A fiberglass device sticking out of a wall of the packinghouse across the street, the bone chute's conveyor belt ferried the spinal columns, skulls, ribcages and pelvises of countless slaughtered cattle into the back of a dump truck parked underneath. All day long the bones, still red with flesh, would drop into the truck; with each thud, the truck bed echoed through Sangamon Street like an over-sized bass drum. Then, promptly at three, the truck would pull out, empty its bones somewhere, and return for the next day's load. Although curious, we never found out where the bones were shipped."

Sounds like something out of And the Ass Saw the Angel. Brown was even able to dig up and scan a picture for us, circa 1985. "Notice in the background," says Brown, "that the Bloomingdale's/900 N. Michigan building near the John Hancock Center has yet to be built."

Left of the Loop Part 1: Ish Spungdkt, Kill Your Pets, & The Strangers

210 N. Sangamon Avenue is a parking lot. The address of Ishmael Spungkdt and Stark's (no first or last name, just Stark) loft in Tim W. Brown's 2001 novel Left of the Loop is a dramatically different place for visitors today than it was in the Eighties when it was Spungkdt and Stark's  post-apocalyptic urban playground. If you walk down Sangamon to Randolph, you'll see a few holdouts from the old neighborhood -- meat packers, restaurant supply warehouses, and Adults-Only shops -- still there in between the Starbuckses and trendy restaurants . But SUVs and young adolescent trees line the 200 block of Sangamon now, and the parking lot at 210--walled-in, gated tight, and completely empty -- is surrounded by galleries, swanky architects' offices, and lofts. "Historic Loft Living, Great Views, 15 Floor Plans, Rooftop Sundeck, Vintage Architecture," reads the big yellow banner hanging on the Lake Street Loft building, clean and ivy-covered on the northeast corner of Lake and Sangamon.

Historic indeed.

If there's anyone that can tell you about Historic Loft Living in Chicago's West Loop, it's Tim W. Brown. Left of the Loop is the fictionalized account of Brown's years spent living in a barely-habitable artists' loft in the bombed-out wasteland that was the West Loop in the Eighties, the only permanent residents for several square city blocks of broken-down industrial scrabble peopled by hobos,  smacked-out ragtag punk outfits, sometimes-identifiable animal parts that found their way out of trucks and dumpsters behind meat packing plants (see: bone chute), and lots and lots and lots of broken glass.

"Chairs Are Architecture; Sofas Are Bourgeois": A Study of Eurocentrism, Modernism, and IKEA

It falls apart before you get done putting it together. It’s so crappy that some moving companies refuse to touch it. And according to Ed Norton in that movie I hate, a house full of it is a sure sign that you’ve sold your soul to corporate Satan. But we’ve all got our IKEA furniture; we’re attracted to its clean modern lines the way little kids with Cheeto fingers are attracted to your new white shirt. I go to that joint and I buy the HELL out of that crap. Every time I do, though, I think about how the popularization of mass produced, inexpensive Modern design via IKEA involves phenomena that extend beyond any discussion of quality or taste.

Early 20th century Modern design, like its late 20th century IKEA revival, begins as a European export. And like a ship full of plague rats or a pile of blankets festering with smallpox, it arrives on distant shores with something nasty crawling unseen just below its smooth faux-teak surface.

Death of Print vs. Print ♥ Digital: Jettison Quarterly, Couture, and Advertising

If you roll up a copy of any major American newspaper and hold it to your ear, what many people say you will hear is the swan song of print as a viable mass medium for information dissemination. While you don't seem to see new print magazines launching nearly as often as you see new online magazines launching, the former is never far from the latter, influencing content, infrastructure, formatting...

This is especially apparent when you look at a magazine like Chicago's Jettison Quarterly, an online arts, entertainment and culture  magazine that reads exactly -- exactly -- like a print magazine.

Yes, true, you can get a thumbnail view of all the pages and pick the page you want to go to...

Chicago 101: Intro to Segregation

Last week,the Guardian ran a video from Ed Pilkington highlighting what he calls the “recent” spike in gang- and violence-related murders of children on Chicago’s South side.

I sent the video around to people I know. For those unfamiliar with Phillip Jackson, the response to the first three minutes was usually to the effect that he must have spent a significant portion of his life trapped in a cabinet, and must have gone to college on the moon, to honestly believe that President Obama is somehow connected to or responsible for Chicago’s racially disparate violence simply because his house is south of Roosevelt Road. Those more familiar with Jackson and his work, however, know that he’s no fool.

Jackson’s claims that all Obama has to do is “say the word” to stop the violence do indeed appear to come from someone who’s looking at American socio-political issues from the outside in, and certainly someone with a loose handle on Chicago’s long history of political corruption and institutionalized segregation. It may come as a surprise to some readers, then, to learn that Jackson is (unlike Obama) Chicago born, raised, and educated, and is the founder of Black Star, a education and support coalition for disadvantaged youth with headquarters in the Bronzeville neighborhood on Chicago’s South Side.

"Death of Print:" Life (and Archiving) Inside the Paradigm Shift

I recently spoke to my friend Colin Horgan about the CUL for a True/Slant article he was writing, and the conversation turned, as conversations often do, to the practical and metaphysical questions raised by the differences between online and print media.

Specifically, what happens to literature as part of an ever-changing community landscape when it becomes, via the web, geographically non-specific? How does this affect an organization like the CUL, whose mission is "to map the evolution (historically and contemporaneously) of Chicago’s communities and movements and encourage the production of new media by providing context, inspiration, and programming designed to support collaboration?" The internet provides a convenient, free-or-cheap alternative to zine making, book making, and small-press printing in the form of blogging. The blog or website format offers not only a more economical, environmentally-friendly, and widely-distributed option for publications which, in the pre- or proto-internet era, would have naturally utilized the print medium, but also some other features as well: with blogging, there's very little time commitment required. You don't have to think about layout, format, how you're going to duplicate and distribute your product--you just type whatever you want in the box, and hit "publish."

As a result, there are jillions of bloggers globally disseminating their thoughts on any and everything who would never have bothered with print, some with and some without connections to literary and cultural communities in their region.

Doodleganza at the MCA

I got to the MCA early without checking to see what new work they were showing. I wanted to be surprised, like when you go out of your way not to learn anything about a movie you know you want to see, so you can be atwitter with anticipation. After wandering through Liam Gillick's Three Perspectives and a Short Scenario installation, an expanse of negative space traversed by huge prison-or-enclosure-like structures echoing with pulsing, mechanically repetitive instrumental guitar crunch rock, however, I was feeling overwhelmed, like I'd stumbled onto a set built for an avant-garde stage production of Repo Man starring actors of inhumanly gigantic proportions. I felt tiny! I sat in the cavernous Puck Cafe nibbling a $5 Rice Krispie Treat feeling bullied by contemporary art, thinking that Liam Gillick had probably wanted me to feel that way, and wishing I could ask him what I did to make him so mad at me. There was really no way, I realized, for me to respond to this work and its creator personally at all.
This was all very discouraging.
"The aesthetics of social structures and consumption and the estrangement of the viewer/spectator are like, super significant themes in contemporary art," I thought, "But if only someone would think of a way for contemporary art to also be participatory, accessible, and fun..." Then I noticed it was almost 6:00, time to walk across to the other side of the Puck Cafe for Doodleganza hosted by Ezra Claytan Daniels, and realized that since the Puck Cafe is huge enough to probably double as a stadium for at least one kind of professional sport, I had better get moving.

"Ancient Egypt in the Year 4 Billion;" Zine making in the year 2009. Ian McDuffie on Self Publishing

While cataloging zines at the library recently, I ran across a small book called Ancient Egypt in the Year 4 Billion, a collection of three short stories,  vignettes of the distant future evoked much more lyrically than what we may have become accustomed to in popular science fiction.

The first, while pinpointing a very specific juncture in time in its title, The Four Infinities of June 12th, 200 & 6, seems to center thematically around the infinite; in particular, the inifinite as it is manifested within each individual, and what it means for two infinities to encounter one another.

The third, an excerpt from a work entitled The Dust Dunes of Old Earth, seems to draw on "traditional" sci fi to describe the descent of an explorer (archaeological, or geological, perhaps?) who has been fired deep into the heart of a dune, protected by a unique type of one-man vessel.

The second story in the collection, and also the longest, describes two people adrift on a giant animal's ribcage after a Rapture- or Apocalypse-like event has left the Earth unpopulated and landless.  From Ship of Bone: