More big city envy.

Is it really ok for me to be trained as an urban geographer when I'm such an obvious fan of big cities?

My week in Chicago started out with a trip to the far western suburbs, past a line of 15-story office buildings I've never seen before. Not only do I not remember the last time I was that far west on the east-west tollway, I'm not even sure I've ever been there. The old friend I was visiting lives in an in-fill subdivision between Naperville and Aurora. There was a time that Aurora was sort of a stand-alone town, but those days are long gone. I think they were pretty much gone when I was growing up, but now it's continuous development straight through. What was most striking was how much obvious sense the office buildings lining the tollway make. Granted, it makes sense only when you are in a car. In fact, it is the most car-specific landscape I've been in for quite a while. It made me long for a tripod and a van to stand on top of, just so I could somehow show the lack of walking space.

Now I see why everyone is interested in doing 'walkability' studies. They're looking to quantify how bad it is.

The wedding, the ostensible reason for the trip, was a lovely affair. My first Unitarian nuptuals. The groom's
uncle, a Catholic deacon, was given the floor and managed to refute every tenet of Unitarian (non-)theology in about 45 seconds. I'm glad the clergy at my Catholic-wedding-with-a-Mormon-guest-speaker kept their daggers in their sleeves. Someone else was heard to remark over dinner: "So, this is how democrats get married."

Hung with some old friends, and a couple new ones, afterwards. Overall a lovely time.

The next day it was back to the western suburbs for father's day dinner. My father insists he's never had to re-charge his I-pass, but it seems to be we racked up at least $10 on it over the past couple months. One thing I didn't realize is that the tolls for users of the little gizmo are only half the posted cash tolls.

On Monday I drove the honeymooners up to O'Hare and then bid farewell to the parents, sibling, and nephews with a dinner at Denny's. Better gastronomic tourism lay ahead. To aid the trip, I moved into the honeymooners now vacant house. I think the dogs appreciated the company. This let me bike to the Midway el stop
. It was actually a great ride, taking exactly a half hour along 52nd Avenue, through the Ford City West parking lots, over the Cicero bridge, and then down Kilpatrick straight into the Kiss'n'Ride lot. Riding through Oak Lawn, Burbank, and then Westlawn was slightly freakish. There are a lot more older homes than I remember--somehow my years on the North Side made me forget that.

Speaking of memory, after doing the ride twice I came to a strange realization. When I dream about this part of Chicago, the landscape is actually a little bit more accurate than my conscious memories of it. I did take a little detour through my grandmother's old neighborhood and did drive by the house I grew up in. During each excursion, I found myself relying more on instinct than on actual memory. Only later did I realize that the instinct comes from recurring dreams as to which streets go through, which ones have business strips, and which dead-end in railroad tracks, industrial buildings, or other obstacles.

OK, enough psychoanalysis.

My first day out I spent an afternoon in the 'traditional' gallery district along Superior Street after having lunch with a high school friend. Mariella Bettineschi's digital photos on glass didn't move me, but Michelle Keim's large scale prints of industrial sites at night were stunning. Catherine Edelman has been the standout photo gallery for as long as I've been interested in these sorts of things, and she's still going full steam ahead. I don't think I've ever seen a bad show there. In the side gallery hung a few prints from a duo, Clark and Pougnand, who photograph people in elaborate tableaux, sort of a Gilbert and George for the new millenium. Wow. But the Keim is what sticks out in my memory. If I was making a lot of photos, these would be the photos I'd be wanting to make.

A sculpture show caught my eye and dragged me straight into the Andrew Bae Gallery, which specializes in Asian artists. Keysook Geum's wire dresses were amazing. The photos on the website don't do them justice. Run don't walk, straight to Andrew Bei.

Finally, there was Elena Dorfman at Schneider. I don't know if this gallery is newer than Catherine Edelman, but it showed up on my radar a little later. Things here tend to be a little edgier (just a little though), but Dorfman's portraits of sex dolls and their owners were surprisingly NOT edgy. I'd say they were tender, and presented what I would have assumed to be a fairly hard-core fetish community as just another sub-culture, like people who collect plush dolls. Granted, life-size latex plushies, but
hey, we've all got our quirks.

There were some more night photos here too, big cityscapes. But after the Keim, they seemed a little too much for above the sofa. Still, awfully nice.

This post has waited long enough. I know my (three) loyal readers are itching to hear these details. They will just have to wait for the rest of them.