June 21, 2015

11:07pm

Opening day.

Gallery Dweller: Margaret Hartmann, longtime Logan Square resident.

Dinner Companion: Lynn Basa, owner of Corner gallery.

Walking Tour Guide: Margaret Hartmann.

This was a LONG day…. er, week. But it was also very good. I am superbly tired in all my muscles and joints from moving boxes, building furniture, painting, drilling, and generally prepping all the things. Yet I am suspended in a momentum that is divinely energizing. I am hopeful that thisPlace has what it takes to become something altogether lovely, useful, potent… and artful.

As the piece is still new, there are still challenges for defining appropriate formulas for documentation. People come and go, interactions occur, but I am present only a fraction of the hours this piece is on display. As it stands now: daily I will reflect in written word, daily I will make photos and videos. Hopefully the social media trend picks up so participants and viewers alike will add their own thoughts, discoveries, and questions to facebook, twitter, and Instagram (#thisPlaceProject). I will wait to reflect on the living participant experiences until their stay has finished and that deep breath has been released.

The first Walking Tour landed on opening day, led by the lead-off gallery dweller Margaret. Four people attended the first tour, a small but superbly effective event in its intimacy and story sharing ability. We met at Logan Square’s Corner Farm, a community garden that Margaret co-founded in 2009. The tour fittingly wound through side streets until we ended up at Corner gallery. Corner to Corner; one longtime creative community space linked to a new creative community space, employing different mediums to the same fruitful end.

Margaret and Lynn shared dinner tonight. They went together to buy tacos across the street at Tacos & Tequilas and ate together in the window around the Corner of the table (fitting for the theme of the evening). The street seemed emptier tonight than I would have expected for a Sunday and the first day of summer. Despite the unusual nature of their surroundings, the meal seemed utterly casual from the outside. As if old friends were catching up, eager to continue their conversation around the next corner.

June 22, 2015

10:20pm

Day 2

Gallery Dweller: Margaret Hartmann, longtime Logan Square resident.

Dinner Companion: Michelle Collins, raised into adulthood in Logan Square, currently lives on the south side of Chicago.

Already I’m finding a bizarre conflict in thisPlace. Most people (that I’ve seen) walk by with an obvious confusion or a general disinterest in what’s happening the space. This could be due in part to the relative newness of the gallery. Without historical reference for passersby to draw from, it’s less identifiable as an art venue intended for observation and reflection.

On the other hand, the conceptual structure of this community oriented piece appears to more closely resemble water than brick and mortar. There is a visual separation between inside and outside, yet a Welcome sign hangs on the door encouraging a dissolution of that barrier. During tonight’s dinner I was invited into the space to participate in the conversation, something I would have never allowed myself to do in previous projects. But here it seems pertinent, or at least impolite to reject.

It’s as if the mere image of household objects has actually transplanted the cultural rules and expectations of Home into the gallery. Passersby seem content to assume the space is just a (weird) apartment… maybe they haven’t gotten around to hanging curtains yet? I’ve seriously considered hanging a big sign outside that says THIS IS ART, PLEASE STOP AND SEE. Probably not the most subtle exchange I could conceive but it might move us past this confusion faster.

This afternoon Margaret hosted a four year old friend for a while. They made drawings which now hang from a twine clothesline near the front window and watched children’s programming on the thisPlace Netflix account. Margaret has wonderfully asked each guest she invites in to write or draw a form of documentation about their stay. She has also used vibrant-as-sunshine yellow artist’s tape on these paper love notes and around the top of the table.  

For dinner, Michelle came to the space and shared a meal from Tacos and Tequilas across the street. Michelle grew up in the Logan Square; she attended Darwin Elementary and remembers the neighborhood when it was a very different place. She now lives in New City on the south side of Chicago but hopes to move back someday.  

It was clear from the outside that their conversation was active and easy. In order to encourage community involvement, I set up chairs outside to stop and view the proceedings. Sitting down changes everything, the whole world slows down when intentional observation becomes the primary perception. No one joined me, but some glances lingered, which seemed like a success. Perhaps moving the inside house objects to the outside will draw some of the normalcy out of the piece too. When Home spills over onto the world, I’m interested to see what happens then.

June 23, 2015

10:58pm

Day 3

First shift move-out day

Community Evening: Meet the Artist

My day began by reading multiple text messages from the gallery dweller saying she had locked herself out of the space… about seven hours prior to my waking up and reading them. As it turned out, because my phone was set to silent, her calls for help went unanswered and she walked across the neighborhood barefoot to her own home. I feel the need to officially apologize to Margaret and have definitely learned the important lesson that life on display means the artist is on call.

In her final hours as a resident dweller, Margaret told me about all the people that came and went from the space during her stay. Some were invited, some were spontaneous. There were honestly a lot more than I expected which was a really pleasant surprise.

As Margaret gathered up her things and decided which objects to leave behind, I prepared the space for the first Community Evening: Meet the Artist. Honestly I expected no one would come, call me pessimistic. But one after another, old friends, new friends, future participants, and neighbors stepped inside to say hello.

Mary Ellen Croteau, the owner of Art on Armitage gallery and the visionary that let me create 30 Days of Dinner Time in her space five years ago, came to visit. She brought with her a young lady from her neighborhood who introduced herself and told me why she eagerly hitched a ride across town to see thisPlace. When Alicia was nine years old, she saw 30 Days near her home, and it stayed with her. She is now a bright, talented fourteen year old who commutes an hour each way to attend a highly competitive high school on the far north side. I was blown away to know that the work of my hands made a lasting impact on the life of someone else. What a humbling gift to be given.

Ed also stumbled upon the event. My husband and I have known Ed as long as we’ve lived in Logan Square. He used to sleep in the train station near our apartment. Some seasons Ed would be as reliable as the sunrise and other seasons he would all but disappear. Many times we would offer prayers of safety and provision for Ed, wherever he was. Eventually he always reappeared, like the first flower in spring. I am ecstatic to update that Ed is now a Homed man.

Having seen my giant camera, Ed told us that he is also a photographer, having bought his first camera when he served in the military during Vietnam. Later he joined us inside the gallery and sat around the living room with strangers from all ages, stages, and histories. It was a bizarre and beautiful family gathering.

Altogether, about a dozen people came to “meet” me, ranging from 4 to 60 years of age, including every major people group represented in Logan Square/Avondale. As I enjoyed the gift of these beautiful people, I re-remembered that at an art gesture does not have to be BIG to be substantial.

June 24, 2015

9:10am

Day 4

Gallery Dwellers: Daniel LaSpata & Alicia Locher.

Married couple and longtime (actively involved and passionate) residents of Logan Square.

Dinner Companion: Adrian and Jill Garcia.

Married couple. Adrian is the landlord of my apartment building in Logan Square and inherited it from his father who owned it before him.

I met Daniel and Alicia this morning to introduce them to the space before they left for a full day of work in corporate America. Their life in the gallery will likely resemble the life many people have in their own homes; disproportionate. Long days spent somewhere else while objects and sounds keep a presence in the absence of their owners.

And yet dinner time and electric lights bring life into a home after a long day, with such a frenzy of joy that it seems to catch up for all the slow hours of household waiting. Ironically, this dinner party of two married couples, who commuted from every direction imaginable, used very little electricity despite dark rain clouds rolling in. They shared the meal duties; Daniel and Alicia brought drinks and salad, Adrian and Jill brought the main dish. Their objects spread across the table with ease and an unintentional rhythm.

My involvement from the outside was comically restricted as I rolled my toddler around in her little stroller to document the dinner. We didn’t walk to the gallery in the stroller, we drove. The only reason I brought mini-wheels was to lock her down so I could take a photo without worrying she would run into the road. It’s much more difficult to concentrate on the artistic process when parenting a wee one. And yet, wrangling her wiggles more closely documents the beauty and chaos of art in life than any photo I took tonight.

A little boy walked up to the gallery door and peered through the glass while I talked to his parents. As I was gearing up to snap a photo, he suddenly became self-aware and bolted away. I jubilantly called out for him to go back, just for one picture! His parents cheered him on in the half-hearted pose and my daughter immediately mimicked his performance for fun. And there it was again, little people relaying the bitters and sweets of moving through space in a more articulate and artful way than anything I’ve ever dreamed to do.

June 25, 2015

10:00pm

Day 5

Gallery Dwellers: Daniel LaSpata & Alicia Locher. Married couple and longtime residents of Logan Square.

Dinner Companion: May Young. Longtime Avondale resident.

Daniel, Alicia, May and I all attend the same church. I was a little concerned that their non-stranger-ness would dismantle the structure I’d designed for these dinners; a clean slate built on equally unsure footing across the table.

By observing from the outside there was no way to know if they were old friends or new strangers.  It looked very much like all the other meals to date: interactive, conversational, courteous, focused. They were so focused, in fact, they offered no response of any kind when I panned the window with a video camera two inches away from the glass.

After some observation time, I decided to knock on the gallery door. They merrily invited me in without moving, forgetting that the locked door kept me out despite my entire body being visible through the glass. Instead of standing at the back of the room to take photos, I sat at the unoccupied dining chair. The conversation changed directions when I entered. It was hard to tell if they were due for a change or if I redirected them mid-moment.

At one point I asked a question that had already been asked. The speaker offered the answer again after an apology to the others for having to re-hear it. I was very aware of my outside-ness in that moment, realizing I had viewed their forms making beautiful gestures but missed the mindful density they created on the inside. Taking one without the other is meditative; taking them in shifts is disorienting.

As it turned out, they did not know each other, or not very well. This was the first time they’d ever had a real conversation despite seeing each other in passing places. That brought me back to a large intention for thisPlace… neighboring each other. There are countless people I see within walking distance of my home day after day, but never stop to actually find them.

For instance, yesterday a stranger was walking in the same direction as my daughter and I on the sidewalk. She said “My, she’s getting big! I remember when you were pregnant.” I had no recollection of ever having seen this person in my entire life, but she remembered that my image floated through her world (three years ago). We exchanged names and goodbyes. Now I will store her in the gallery of my mind and wait to find her again, perhaps even someday sharing a meal with her in someone else’s window.

June 26, 2015

11:45pm

Day 6

Gallery Dwellers Daniel and Alicia move out.

Community Evening Open House cancelled due to vehicle malfunctions, rain, and divine intervention.

Only six days into thisPlace, this gesture, this monster-of-a-project and I can see it effecting everything in my non art making life. There’s something to be said when a two year old uses her arms to bind her parents together like a mammoth paper clip. I have been busy, in mind and body.

So, tonight as I sat in my car listening to the rain pelt down on the windshield and the engine struggling to turn over, I viewed the moment as less of a setback and more of a gift. Little to nothing was planned for the Community Evening tonight. Of course amazing things happen all the time when there’s no plan on the books, which is why I climbed into the car with every intention of seeing things through. But to battle a car, and the weather, seemed entirely silly. Which meant another beautiful thing transpired without a plan, a night with the sacrificial supporters known as my family.

Flashback to early evening in the gallery. Octonauts played on Netflix to entertain Charlotte while Daniel and Alicia unpacked their experience living in thisPlace. I hesitate to paraphrase their words for fear of doing it poorly, but one common thread that stood out: intentionality.

Daniel said their first night was a fairly accurate recreation of a typical night in their own home… laptop, tv, low light, chill. There would have been little to differentiate the space from a normal apartment aside from the words on the door and a stunning lack of curtains in the windows. The second night they decided to try a different approach, turning all the fluorescent lights on and sitting nearer to the window, inviting the performance of the space into their practice of home. With that change, two passersby came near to read the statement on the window and then began an unplanned conversation with Daniel IN his temporary home. He seemed startled and exhilarated by the exchange that most certainly would have never happened in his usual home.

Alicia spoke to her desire for intentional interaction between herself and those beyond the glass. In the hurry of life or confusion of the piece, many people wouldn’t directly interact with them while they lived inside. Her thirst for uncommon conversations in thisPlace caused her to engage with strangers as she went about her outside-day. And yet she was also frazzled by the vulnerability and performance nature of being on display at home. The contrast of intentionality to engage coupled with a need to hide was really interesting to me, a tipping of the normal balance of life just enough to make it illuminate it.

More than anything, they asked great questions of me, many of which I’m still answering in my mind. Working through the visual nature of a social project that is highly planned and utterly unpredictable is… enough to make me very tired and happy for movie night with my husband.

June 27, 2015

10:22pm

Day 7

Gallery Dweller: Felicia Medellin

Dinner Companions: Lorena Pacheco and Lorena’s mom, Eva.

These are the best days. Blue skies, warm sun, cool breeze, and it all falls on a Saturday so everyone is out and about with smiles on their faces.

This morning I welcomed Felicia to thisPlace and gave her the lowdown. By the time I returned for the evening Dinner on Display, she had already had two visitors, moved in a handful of objects, and cooked dinner for herself in the electric skillet.

I arrived early to set up for the Dinner with my husband and daughter. We set out the mismatched chairs facing two separate windows (a green rocking chair included), shared an urban style picnic dinner outside the window, and had conversations with lots of new and old friends about the piece.

Concerning the topic of cross-language conversation, I find myself nearly debilitated. There was a time when my Spanish skills were on the rapid increase from frequent practice with some of our homeless neighbors in Logan Square. Since the birth of my daughter, conversation time with other adults has become severely limited. It’s a wonder I can still speak like a grown up in any language, come to think of it. And now it feels like starting at the first step, a baby learning everything over again. My limitations make me fearful to speak, as I know I’ll surely mess up whatever I’m trying to say, complicating everything for everyone.

And yet, after the dinner I briefly spoke with Lorena about her experience as a Dinner Companion. I assumed the three women spoke Spanish inside the gallery for the entire meal, based on the fact that Lorena’s mom speaks very little English and all three women are deeply rooted in the Latino community. As it turns out, Felicia is not quite fluent so Lorena rode the fence between the two languages as she is very skilled at doing.

Somehow knowing this small detail was enormously encouraging. Living as a communicating person means to live on a spectrum of skill, a spectrum that leaves very little room for fear of failure. It seems more apt to say that failure only exists in doing nothing at all. Doing nothing leads to seeing nothing which can easily lead to feeling nothing. Perhaps trying to engage with another human does complicate everything for everyone… but maybe that’s not a bad thing.

June 28, 2015

10:35pm

Day 8

Gallery Dweller: Felicia Medellin, Logan Square resident

Dinner Companion: John McDermott, Housing and Land Use Director of Logan Square Neighborhood Association

Walking Tour Guide: Kimmy Noonen (me!)

Walking backwards through today (because that’s always fun to do), I saw very little of our dinner companions tonight. Rain clouds teetered toward Corner gallery at the same time John walked up to greet Felicia in thisPlace. They still needed to go across the street and order dinner from Tacos and Tequilas - who has had an influx of business from this art project – so I decided to leave them to an unchaperoned dinner on display and get home dry.

This afternoon I led the weekly walking tour. Eight adults and three children walked through the streets of Logan Square, smooshing to the side more than once to let people walk past. I like finding out how people find out… the degrees of separation that bring a group of perfect strangers together for a moderately bizarre afternoon activity.

Knowing that Tina saw a flyer on facebook or Rebecca got an email from a coworker is only the first step of falling into finding them. Between each stop on the tour, we all talked to each other. Instead of the usual “what do you do?” question coming at the start, mazes of shared experiences pulled stories out of us that lead backwards from passions into actions. The crowd moved back and forth, discussing different things with different people as we all moved ahead like a ship in the ocean.

We started at my church home on Logan Boulevard and joked that it was a tour of local churches because we passed and talked about so many on the way. At the stops I also took a portrait of one or more participants to give a nod back to my day job and a gift to their time spent with me. We transitioned from quiet tree lined streets to noisy major roads, from a secret eccentric garden to the windows of my own home. It was fun and I think I’m losing my voice for a good reason.

This morning as I walked to church with my daughter, along the very route we were to take on the tour, we met two new people. If it had not been for the boldness I’ve found through thisPlace and the need to learn more facts for leading a tour, I certainly wouldn’t have engaged with either person.

The first was Bill, a member of St Luke’s Lutheran Church on Francisco Ave. He told me great stories about their lovely old building that I’d never heard before, about its history and his sadness to be moving out of it soon. The second was Mona and her small dog Punk, the caretaker of our secret urban garden-farm. She told me about the neighbors and local children that bring and take treasured toys from her garden (small dinosaurs, unicorns, fuzzy stuffed animal scarecrows) and she told me about the dog show she’ll be dying her dog blue for.

I realized today that I often expect to stumble upon community, almost accidentally and certainly without much intention on my part. Yet, finding a treasure first requires that I seek one. How much sight do I miss because I’m simply not trying to see? Perhaps walking backwards more often is a place to start.

June 29, 2015

10:43pm

Day 9

Gallery Dwellers Felicia move out.

Community Evening: Screening of the short documentary film The Bond That Drives Us by Conexion Americas followed by a facilitate discussion by Felicia Medellin and Nina Sanchez.

My primary interaction with thisPlace today revolved around the Community Evening led by our gallery dweller on her last day in the space.

The turnout was intimate but sturdy. We gathered around a digitally projected youtube video, another surprising use for an all-white living space. Before the screening began a local man meandered up to the door. His name was David (pronounced Dah-veed) and the smell of his breath betrayed his recent immoderation. Nina spoke to him in Spanish on my behalf and then he sat down for a while to drink some water. It took about five minutes for him to realize he’d been swept into something that wasn’t quite what he wanted to do.

Welcoming a drunken, possibly homeless, man into a space is an extreme version of social tension because there is a palpable unpredictability to the situation. But it’s also amazing to observe how a group of people incorporate that tension into a responsive action, collectively accommodating (or refusing) the change of tempo. That “rub” (as we called it in grad school) is uncomfortable but quite necessary in any piece of art. When everything is totally predictable it can also be a little lame.

The screening and discussion went very well. We learned about the process for first generation Latino students to attend college, the deficits in staff to assist them in the process, organizations that pick up the slack, and the challenge of funding college for undocumented students. It was all incredibly informative and especially interesting to learn from women who have lived and worked first hand in this sphere for many years. I also learned a great new phrase: DACAmented. This refers to a middle form of documentation for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. As far as words go, this is one of my new favorites.

Felicia seemed ready to move out when the time came, confessing that the beds were hard on her back and the headlights from a nearby alley made sleeping very hard. She opted to work from home on her third day but decided to flee the gallery for the comforts of home.  Nevertheless, she left with a smile and while the tension of living as artwork came in unexpected forms, her weekend was far from lame.

June 30, 2015

10:56pm

Day 10

Gallery Dweller: Dan Pogorzelski

Dinner Companion: Michael Washington, Pastor of New Community Covenant Church in Logan Square, resident of Hyde Park

There was a part of me as the inception of this project that believed I would have to bribe, beg, and apologize in order to get people into the gallery. While that has thankfully not been the case, it’s also apparent that some participants are willing to help while others are eager to engage. Dan is eager, energetic, and wonderfully committed to the vision of thisPlace; possibly because it so closely aligns with the vision he carries every day of his normal life.

Dan moved in this morning, and I don’t say that lightly. He thought long and hard about the objects that he brought into the space. Each one is a treasured item that tells a story, many of them telling part of the rich history of the very neighborhood Corner stands. His love for history and political humor is colorful and contagious. More than anything, the gallery feels unequivocally like a home, a home I probably would have never seen with my own eyes otherwise.

Dan is also a proud member of the Polish community in Chicago. He invited Sergio Zgrzebski, anchorman and reporter for Monitor Polvision, to do a segment about thisPlace for Chicago local channel 24. This interaction brought a really rich conversation into the gallery, a new sense of consciousness for me about the project and my role in it, and hopefully it will open up the gesture to the amazing and complex Polish community in the city. Watching the segment air later in the evening was nearly a meditative experience, as the entire program is in Polish of which I speak none whatsoever. My husband and I pieced together the International and local news from today through the cultural lens of our unknown neighbors. That gives me idea for future projects!

Michael Washington, a Hyde Park resident and longtime Logan Square pastor (of my church actually), joined Dan for dinner tonight. When I arrived with my daughter they were already engaged in a tour of the historical objects, looking from the outside in at some of his relocated pieces.

Their conversation throughout the start of the meal was animated and punctuated with larger-than-life laughter. From the outside I would have thought they were old friends. In fact, I spoke with a couple neighbors as they walked by and they were also surprised that the two men had never met before. Their comfortable body language stood as a stark contrast to their reality of their situation.

As much as I want to wrap this reflection up with a tie into my leading thought, my brain has decided to fall asleep for the night. So I leave here until tomorrow.

July 1, 2015

8:53pm

Day 11

Gallery Dweller: Dan Pogorzelski

Dinner Companion: Amanda Podgorny and Xenia Dylag and others… local residents who were strangers to each other and unexpected dinner companions.

I think it may be safe to say that Dan knows, or will soon know, everyone in Avondale. His ability to connect people to each other has infused thisPlace with a new kind of life and openness. Letting other people bring their personality and gifts into a project is risky but can also reap an eloquent strength that I could have never mustered in my own strength. It takes a village as they say.

This morning I took my daughter to the park. While running around the jungle gym she spotted a group of children huddled together near the top of a slide. They ranged in ages from 3 to 7 (give or take), playing with something that seemed very valuable and small. Charlotte climbed the ladder with a smile that read “please let me play with you, I’m very nice.” The children did all they could to block her entrance but she was persistent enough to climb past the body guard and find a seat on the outside of their huddle. She was so optimistic, so hopeful to be included, and had no reason to think she wouldn’t be. But she wasn’t. She was ignored and elbowed out until she finally gave up and came back to me.

As a parent, it was a little heartbreaking to see my talented, sweet, likeable child rejected as an outsider. I wanted to lecture the children on the importance of inclusion and kindness. But it wasn’t just about this isolated interaction at a park. It was my realization that the next generation is coming into their own under the same social grouping principals we all have; us versus them.

There certainly are benefits to having a clan to which you cling. It can be life assisting and soul nourishing to be close to those who agree with you. But I wonder what it would have hurt for those children to share their playdoh with one more eager friend. What would it hurt for us, as adults, to see the objects of our affections and nothing more than toys on a playground that come into a fuller life when more imaginations and kind hearts interact with them.

I greatly fear the first day my daughter runs to me crying because a peer made her feel insignificant, growing her cynicism and tarnishing her optimism for the beauty of those around her. I also mourn for the many children and parents who have felt this on a deeper level than I may ever fathom, perhaps from me or my daughter. It’s from that place that thisPlace came into being. That it could be a moment when people actually did, even in an experimental and imperfect way, prove their inheritance of separation wrong. That there is a place this side of glory where it can be us AND them, even for just a minute in one small place.

Dan’s dinner tonight was a beautiful manifestation of that idea. He and his schedule dinner companion Amanda had never met nor crossed paths. Before the meal began, an acquaintance of Dan’s named Xenia stopped by the space and opted to stay for the meal as well. As the three new friends gathered at the table, David asked to come in as well, the frequent visitor from around the corner. And as that group interaction began, another person walked up and waved through glass to participate. Aside from a single location and a few distant connections, these people knew very little of each other and had only a zip code in common. Yet there they were sharing a mixed up, moderately chaotic, inconvenient, awkward, beautiful slice of life and pie together.

As I turned to walk home with my young, oblivious, sleepy child… I distinctly felt my tarnish from the park being replaced by a good and present hope for the future.

July 2, 2015

11:08pm

Day 12

Gallery Dwellers Dan moved out.

Community Evening: Constructing Community; An Interactive Event with Andrea North & Friends

This morning a dear friend and former resident of Logan Square watched my daughter while I went to the gallery for a taped interview with reporter Aly Bockler from WCIU the U. It’s been exciting to meet people who think thisPlace is worth telling others about on a large scale. It has also been encouraging and humbling to see how friends and family have gone out of their way to support the project and myself. As long as I live I will proclaim the value of knowing and being known by others.

Dan finished his time in the space but still left little gifts behind to aid in the rest of the project (Polish candies, Polish newspapers). Leaving gift objects formed spontaneously but I love the gesture. Generosity begets generosity. Perhaps by the end of the piece, the collective residue will amount into a sense of home all on its own.

The Community Event tonight was brought to us by Andrea North and her very awesome friends. They are in the burner community, which I had never heard of before Andrea emailed me in response to the DNAinfo article last month. Despite my initial hesitation (let’s be honest), I am happy report this neighborhood activity could not have been more successful and I’m so thankful for the vision and creativity of Andrea to bring it about.

Andrea, Faery Mama (as I was introduced), Andy, Rueben, and Jennifer literally rolled a 4 foot tall, hand built wooden structure along the sidewalk for a mile to get to the gallery. Because my car is in the shop, I carried a round folding table about a mile to the gallery also. Had we met along the way it certainly would have been a spectacle on parade!

The structure was set up outside the gallery along with a table strewn with stringed paper, markers, and wheat paste. Passersby were greeted warmly and enthusiastically, “Hi! Do you want to participate in a community art project?” Many neighbors that lived within walking distance stopped, almost exclusively longtime residents of Hispanic or Polish decent. There were some language barriers at times but even trying to communicate was a lovely performance in itself.

We did make one utterly unexpected observation: middle/upper-middle class, creative/higher education/professional and (probably) newer residents… were NOT interested in participating (aside from some great friends that stopped by intentionally). Not only that, some refused to even make eye contact as they hurried their pace and jammed earbuds further into the tender ear canals.

Until tonight, I saw the major flaw and weakness of thisPlace to be its lack of interaction with the actual neighbors in the area. People have made a point to come see thisPlace through invitations of friends or facebook postings, but there has been staggeringly little conversation with working class, elderly, Hispanic or (until Dan moved in) Polish neighbors.

The only way I can account for tonight’s shift is the physical location of the stage. Setting up outside seemed to work for one group and deter the other. Maybe the former found it less intimidating than walking inside the gallery and the latter found it to be too solicit-y. We may never know but it yielded highly unexpected results which I will test again in the future.  

Either way, the evening went wonderfully. Andrea’s idea really did bring people together and we had phenomenal conversations which almost certainly wouldn’t have happened otherwise. It also seemed to salve some culture wounds… as people who walked past with an unknowing suspicious scowl walked away with a cookie and toothy smile.

And the structure, what will happen to it you ask? Andrea will transport it to the wedding of a fellow burner and Avondale resident on July 18th where they will ignite the piece and watch it flit away into the heavens. I love their idea of bringing it full circle, from one act of communal celebration to another. And as she said tonight, “we have to burn it, that’s what we do.”

July 3, 2015

10:00pm

Day 13

Gallery Dwellers: Myself (Kimmy Noonen), my daughter Charlotte, and my husband Nate (who came at dinner time today)

Dinner Companion: Mitch Levin, Avondale Neighborhood Association board member

I am writing from the white couch in the white gallery of my own design. I am writing to you as artwork. Greetings.

This is the first time I have allowed myself to be incorporated into a project in a way other than maker, teacher, documenter (as a professional, the confusing headspace of college doesn’t count). As a rule I have always remained outside the action, a separate observer for the purposes of clear vision, conscience documentation, and to reduce my always-thirsty ego. I broke the rule for this piece in part out of necessity, who would actually volunteer to stay in the gallery on the Fourth of July weekend? I also opted in because becoming included in the inside space, and the conversation happening in it, is vital. There is really no way to perfectly observe and document without also participating.

And I must say, this piece was clearly made by me. Not just in a manner of theory but in every way. I feel comfortable here, full even. Having uncovered windows isn’t a stretch because my own living room windows have been covered by only sheer lace curtains for nearly a decade. On a quick run home to get nighttime necessities, I found myself stressed out in our normal residence by all the cluttered objects. The gallery is clean and simple, it reflects our home in a handful of objects but it also feels like a restful vacation. It is clearly a gesture that came from my depths.

Neighbors walked in all morning to visit and I knew almost none of them. The cool outside air made it easy to leave the door open, which coupled with the automatic friend-magnet of having a child, meant Charlotte and I were only alone in the gallery for about 30 minutes the entire day. Waves upon waves of Spanish speaking new friends came in, forcing me to practice rusty language skills. In just a couple hours I could already see an improvement. I spent a good amount of time talking in Spanglish with two women about the project who in turn told new Spanish speaking visitors about the project on my behalf, it was perfect on so many levels.

Probably the best morning experience came when speaking in my broken Spanish to an older woman. She was hesitant with me, seeming to feel captive from by her friends who wanted to stay longer. After a while she tried to tell me something I couldn’t quite understand. She pulled a book out of her bag and I heard the word Dios. She had a daily Bible devotional in her hands. I said “Oh si, quiero Jesus! (pronounced Hay-sues). She replied with shock, “Christiana?!” I said “si… mi Biblia es aqui” pointing out my Bible sitting on the desk. Then this reserved, unsure woman jumped out of her seat and pulled me into a bear hug, calling me sister and saying praises in a sing song voice of joy. Rarely do I get the experience of seeing a mutual Father bring two people who are so different into one family.

So many people came today, I wish I could tell the story of them all.

Our dinner companion tonight was Mitch, a man we had never met from Avondale. Things were chaotic when he arrived because I’d barely had time to run to the store to buy groceries and start cooking from all the house guests. He asked great questions and told us about his own history in the neighborhood. I love the element of surprise that comes with this project… Mitch was an attorney for years and my husband works as a software developer for a company that serves attorneys. They had more to talk about than one conversation could hold (especially with a tired toddler on our hands).

So now I sit here, in a shared space listening to fireworks erupt in local celebrations of the country was all share and love. Today was a good day, a day worth celebrating. 

July 4, 2015

9:40pm

Day 14

Gallery Dwellers: Myself (Kimmy Noonen), my daughter Charlotte, and my husband Nate (who came at dinner time today)

Dinner Companion: The entire neighborhood… for a Fourth of July sidewalk cookout

Fourth of July in Chicago is a phenomenon. The city announced they would not put on a fireworks display this year, probably because they realize most Chicagoans are enjoying a celebration of freedom in the old fashioned Local way; why waste the money. Neighbors throw in bursts and bangs, whizzes and pops, that light up not only their own small block but also the horizon as far as the eye can see. If you’re fortunate enough to find a rooftop for viewing, there is nothing like it in all the world.

Tonight we celebrate in a most unusual way, in an art gallery wearing pajamas. From the couch I’m sitting on, I can see directly down an alley where a family of youngsters (and hopefully at least one adult) are setting off a very impressive fire bouquet. My hands are stained by sidewalk chalk and my muscles are tired from standing, walking, talking, enjoying.

I intentionally didn’t set us up with a dinner companion because of the holiday, assuming it would be unusual no matter how we planned it. On a quick run home to shower, I thought of our tiny little charcoal grill that we use approximately once a year. I brought all the accessories back to the gallery and watched as my small idea turned quickly into a family plan to have an open community sidewalk cookout.

We planned to start at 4pm. By 3:50pm the first batch of burgers was already eaten. When it was all said and done, Nate had to make another run to the grocery store for more hotdogs and buns because so many more neighbors came than we expected. Many were Latino friends who spoke more Spanish than English, another great chance to practice speaking. My Spanish speaking skills have improved probably 60% since moving in yesterday morning. From now on I expect to use this as a barometer for how invested I am in the diversity of our neighborhood (walk the walk AND talk the talk).

I met Marilu, a kind woman who opened up so much as we talked one-on-one for nearly an hour. She used my phone to show me photos of her gelatin dessert making skills, an unbelievably artistic alternative to cake for your next party! She is unable to work in her former job because of arthritis which makes finances and her sense of self-worth more strained. Her esposo (husband) still works at a factory job as does her adult son who lives nearby and also loves photography. She promised to bring me a single serving of her gelatin masterpiece for a taste test before we move out of thisPlace. We hugged when she left.

This afternoon, a recent college-aged visitor came back with four of her friends in tow, two were visiting from Australia. They had incredibly insightful questions and thoughts on the topic of thisPlace, especially as they looked at their own areas and communities. All the while we talked, they colored… evidence of their hands hanging in my now impressive art window. While they were here, two locals stopped by to say hello whom I’d never met. Then just minutes after they arrived, three more tourists from other parts of the country came in. It was an explosion of unexpected crossings and a perfect example of what is capable here.

On our last night in thisPlace, and at the halfway point of the project, I am struck by how much of the piece has moved inside. Just like the sound of these fireworks, the heart of the piece has moved through the glass, existing simultaneously on both sides. Our separation from one another is still real and present… but perhaps only insomuch as we allow.

July 5, 2015

11:01pm

Day 15

Gallery Dwellers: We Noonen’s Moved out

Walking Tour Guide: Daniel La Spata

(Impromptu) Dinner Companion: Mary and Dan Noonen, our Aunt and Uncle from Ohio

Community Evening: Free Photo Portrait by the artist

This was a big day for events at thisPlace.

On our final morning in the space, we woke up as a family to the sun shining in the window at 6am. Well, Charlotte woke up which meant I did too and Nate tried desperately to stay asleep longer to no avail. We got breakfast from La Farine Bakery across the street then began a relatively normal Sunday, heading home to shower then off to church.

While Charlotte napped at home for the first time in three days, I moved our belongings out of thisPlace. It felt like a sad Easter egg hunt, looking for objects that somehow seamlessly became incorporated into the gallery just as they are in my home. The only time I notice those items of legacy are when they’re missing… in the way that I’m certain to find my reflection on the wall even when a mirror has been removed.

There was just enough time to get home, unload, and gather my still napping (aka grumpy) toddler into her car seat to head back to the gallery for the third walking tour of the project. Daniel La Spata did a wonderful job showing us naturally occurring and government subsidized affordable housing in Logan Square and Avondale. We saw just about every kind of housing option available to our community and learned about processes, decisions, options, and politics involved in keeping these communities diverse. Daniel has been my teacher for years on matters of housing and I know for a fact he’s eager to teach others, if you’re interested. It was also exciting to see Daniel and Mitch meet, each on the board of their own Neighborhood Council and interested in very similar topics.

As the tour came to a close back at Corner gallery, we were greeted by Nate and our Aunt and Uncle from Cleveland who stopped by during a visit for the Grateful Dead concert at Soldier Field. Since we were still technically the gallery dwellers, we were able to have dinner in the space (albeit the un-decorated version) to give our family a full-fledged experience. Lynn also stopped by and learned about the culture of dead-heads and other family lore.

From dinner I launched straight into the clean-and-flip for the next gallery dweller followed by the Community Evening at 7:30pm. The door was open for free portrait photos with one softbox-covered-flash to assist. The first person to arrive was my friend Marilu from the cookout yesterday. She returned as promised with three of her gelatin art pieces as gifts for me and my family. They are so lovely and the gift was so kind. She had a piece of leftover pizza from dinner and I had my flower gelatin while we spoke in extremely broken Spanglish to one another. Despite the challenges of spending time with mostly English speakers she seemed to enjoy her company and was the very last person to leave.

A handful of people stopped in, some passersby and others came intentionally. None of the thisPlace events have been packed to the brim, but I like the intimacy and opportunity for conversation. Two young people visiting from the Czech Republic came by and one man doesn’t have an email address so I promised to make a print and that he could pick up on Friday in the gallery. I guess that’s one way to ensure people come back to say hello.

It was a good day… a good long day. Now it’s finally time to rest.

July 6, 2015

10:23pm

Day 16

Gallery Dweller: Darryl Holliday, reporter for DNAinfo and Logan Square resident

Dinner Companion: David Altenburg, Logan Square resident (and Dan Pogorzelski who also joined in)

When talking to people about thisPlace, I keep using the word intersection to discuss the nature of the project. It literally means “a place where two or more roads meet” (thank you dictionary.com). The very nature of this word describes a brief moment, a fleeting exchange, something that is bold in one moment and evaporated the next. Only recently did I realize how accurate this idea is.  

At the Community Evening event last night, Michelle and Marilu met and talked for quite a while. They share very little in common; different languages, different ages, different cultures. Yet there they were, working hard to communicate and doing a beautiful job at it. Toward the end of their conversation, they stumbled upon an unexpected commonality. In the blizzard this past winter, Michelle’s car got stuck in snow and four local men came out to help. Two of those men were Marilu’s husband and adult son. It meant so much to Michelle that she remembered their names all these months later. It clearly meant a lot to Marilu as well, to stumble upon reaffirming evidence that her family is helpful and kind.

Former thisPlace resident, Alicia, told me a story about trying to fall asleep in the gallery one night, only to be confronted by the face of stranger very close the window and her bed. She rolled over in fright and when she looked back the person was gone. Over a week later, a young lady stopped in to hear more about the project and told me she lives nearby and walks past a lot. In fact, she told me a story about one night when she walked up to read the artist statement and caught the image of a person rolling over in bed just beyond the glass. It scared her so much she jumped and ran away immediately. These two innocent, kind-hearted women encountered each other and experienced the same emotion without realizing the other person shared it with them.

Tonight while I visited the gallery, our new resident Darryl met two young people visiting from the Czech Republic and shared dinner with an old friend and a new friend who had never met each other. Meanwhile, I stood outside talking with women in the community who passed by. One woman named Robin became a fast friend as we shared stories that were close to our hearts and questions that need answers but have none. She and I talked long after the rain started to fall on our heads because it didn’t matter nearly as much as the conversation. We may never meet again, but for a brief spot in time, we held each other’s burdens and affirmed that they are seen and known and heard.

Even when the intersection misses, it still happens in a backward way. This afternoon my co-artist and friend Mary Ellen Croteau called me to say she was at the gallery but it appeared to be unoccupied. The gesture missed her intersection. But even in the mismatch there was still intention, journey, and a non-experience to be added to all the others.

I think I’ll keep using this word to describe the project, along with many others no doubt. While there is a part of me that mourns the narrow opportunity of exchange, I also recognize that only very few things should last forever. The rest have their place… thisPlace.

July 7, 2015

11:59pm

Day 17

Gallery Dweller: Darryl Holliday, reporter for DNAinfo

Dinner Companion: Aga Furtak, local artist… and a lot of other people

I’m looking for a word to describe today at thisPlace.

Unexpected.

Spontaneous.

Comely.

Serendipitous.

About two hours before the scheduled dinner between Darryl and Aga was slated to begin, some unexpected changes occurred. Darryl had to leave the gallery for an urgent personal matter, I forgot completely about promising a vegan dinner to Aga for helping me with the project, my bathroom started raining water from the ceiling. It was that kind of day for everyone. Instead of cancelling the evening activity altogether, Aga wisely asked if I could open the gallery and greet the guests on Darryl’s behalf. After my husband rushed home to relieve my parenting duties, I arrived at the gallery with black bean spaghetti in hand and was surprised to meet three ladies at the gallery instead of just one. Things only got more spontaneous from there.

Over the course of the next couple hours, people poured in and out of the gallery… not unlike an ocean tide if you’re one to visualize such things. Everywhere you turned was the face of an unknown neighbor. Some were invited by Aga, some by Darryl, some stopped in for a first or second visit to thisPlace. As I spoke with an interested passerby who couldn’t quite commit to coming inside, he seemed genuinely surprised to learn that such a natural looking crowd formed from strangers only minutes before. Through the glass there would be no reason to question the ease that everyone felt for one another; the most noticeable image residue was one of comfort and comeliness. This effect may be a large reason why so many new faces continued to the ebb and flow through the space.

Young Jess came back to visit and brought her dad along. Ade and I had a really stimulating conversation about social change and Chicago neighborhoods. An older Polish woman from the neighborhood stopped in and seemed to intuitively grasp the breath of the project with almost no objection for its artfulness or lack thereof. There was a potluck, a picnic, a broken wine cork, an open door, a gallery that glowed from blocks away, and no plan whatsoever. It was by definition, serendipitous.

I thought out loud tonight that “social people make social spaces.” As I think longer on that idea, it occurs to me that all people are social and all spaces have the capacity to welcome-in. This unexpected, spontaneous, comely, serendipitous night in a gallery proves it.  

July 8, 2015

10:48pm

Day 18

Gallery Dweller: Darryl Holliday moved out

Community Evening: An evening of two. Emily Taylor met me in the space to bring her personal objects in preparation for WCIU’s television interview the next morning.

Day 18.

EIGHTEEN.

I’m partially in disbelief that only ten days remain in a project I’ve invested so much mental energy. On the other (much heavier) hand, I’m feeling the drain by two and a half weeks of near constant attention paid to a concept that has begun to feel more like a new family member than a storefront gallery.

Today Darryl moved out of thisPlace. It almost felt like he was a figment of my imagination… having seen him only for dinners the last two nights, greeted by a lone key on the table when I arrived to the empty gallery this evening. I even felt a little sad by the unceremonious sending.

Instead of opening the gallery for a Community Evening, it turned out nothing landed on the schedule for tonight. In preparation for tomorrow’s big early morning live taping for You & Me This Morning on Chicago’s WCIU the U, I opted to invite the next gallery dweller to bring her personal objects into the gallery tonight. No one feels like moving at 6:30 in the morning, especially not the mother of a nine month old baby. We had a nice walk through the space and it already feels like the home of a baby with toys and pouch food and a changing pad. Days I’ve almost forgotten…

So to wrap up this short post, I’m tired and tomorrow is coming earlier than usual. I have no doubt day 19 will bring a new adventure. At least one of them will be live broadcast to the third largest city in the country... so I'd better get my beauty sleep. 

July 9, 2015

11:47pm

Day 19

Gallery Dwellers: Emily and Scotia Taylor

Dinner Companion: Sabina, Greg, Jess, & Oliver Chrzan and Jennifer Kelly

For my nearly-nine years living in Chicago, I have been situated just inside Logan Square. From my front door I can walk half a block north to cross the invisible border into Avondale or walk two blocks southeast to play in the grass at the local square for which my neighborhood gets its name. I am also situated mere feet away from a road often referred to as the Milwaukee Corridor, a thoroughfare that once behaved as a pre-highway to and from the loop and now ushers in change faster than most of the other “major” or “major-minor” roads in Chicago.

I originally conceived of thisPlace sharing two neighborhoods for logistical purposes: I live in Logan Square and the gallery is Avondale, seemed like an easy place to start. But I’ve always viewed the two places as brotherly in many ways, sharing many personality traits and cultural communities. We also face the same fate in relationship to the creeping sprawl of gentrification that has moved up Milwaukee year after year.

Then there’s the part of me that moved to Chicago as an adult; the part that still thinks neighborhood boundaries are generated by realtors and politicians for purposes other than creating intentional community. Lines seem to shift just as frequently as voting locations (another topic for another day).

It’s easy for me to forget that a Chicagoans identity is not only tied to culture, ethnicity, family, age… but also very much in neighborhood. I would venture to guess that everyone in this city, if asked, would be quick to offer the name of their true neighborhood (my wording for lack of a better phrase). The one that shaped and formed them to see not just their community, but also the world, through a specific lens. I suppose that’s a way to define Home. 

I re-realized this all tonight while talking at the gallery dinner table with five Avondale residents who carry a great deal of pride for their part of this large city. They talked of strategy for getting people engaged with the neighborhood, shared names of businesses that deserve support (none of which I’d heard of previously), dropped names of local superstars whom I’ve never met, and told stories about their loves and lives. I even picked up on a little rivalry with Logan Square, perhaps?

I hope thisPlace breaks down walls of separation between groups who carry fear-of-the-other around their neck like heavy, broken, and tarnished jewelry. But I also hope it reinforces and already-strong-and-growing neighborhood identity of a collected people. Avondale and Logan Square are great places to live, rich in history and culture, smiles and handshakes, working and caring for a common good. Sharing a place requires the challenging work of making room for everyone at the table to bring themselves (and their stories, fears, needs) while recognizing that one small place on a large map is actually a very special place for some very special people (whether we are at that particular table or not). People move, physical boundaries shift, neighborhoods change. But for now, we are here/ estamos aqui/jesteśmy tutaj; let’s settle in and build a home together.

July 10, 2015

10:30pm

Day 20

Gallery Dwellers: Emily and Scotia Taylor, Avondale residents

Dinner Companion: Grace Needlman, studio manager for Corner gallery and artist/owner Lynn Basa

Shortly before tonight’s scheduled dinner, Charlotte and I strolled up (literally with a stroller) to the gallery. Even in the short time I was there, it was obvious that the open door had acted like a neon welcome sign for the entire day leading up to that moment.

Emily told me she hadn’t realized just how introverted she actually is until a nearly constant stream of visitors left her feeling exhausted. Interacting with others is a taxing activity, no matter the personality type. The invisible pulley systems that link one communicating person to another are elaborate, causing friction if over-exercised. That network of unseen connection points is the object of my artistic affections.

I think we learn early in life how to preserve ourselves by managing human networks through routines, habits, and generally overlooking (beautiful) particularities. If everything unseen was always seen, we would almost certainly cease function from a surplus of awareness. But the foundation of thisPlace was developed to accelerate those normal rhythms until they become visible again. I guess that’s my long way of saying Emily’s social exhaustion is a good sign, evidence that the experiment is alive and well.

I am beginning to wonder what will happen to thisPlace after the closing date in eight short days. The artwork I fashion has always had a 300-meter dash personality; a short-lived habit with a distinct starting and stopping point. Despite my overwhelming fatigue in this particular moment, I am recognizing that thisPlace holds an objective lifelong quality that my previous art pieces lacked. Perhaps it feels less like imitation of life than an actual slice of life itself. Regardless, the entire piece is wrapped up in that accelerated rhythm of social awareness. Even a concept has to catch its breath at some point.

July 11, 2015

10:45pm

Day 21

Gallery Dwellers: Emily Taylor moved out. In an unexpected turn of events, Martha, Sanna, Jess & Max (four Knox College students on summer break) moved in for a one night stay.

Community Afternoon: Open door from Noon to 4pm for casual conversations

Today has been a slow paced day. As a family we went to Unity Park’s Art in the Park event this morning. I was struck by how many adults and children played with and around traditional art mediums; somehow acting as the foil of thisPlace where a traditional art space plays with and around adults and children. It was just refreshing to see neighbors playing together, unified through creative actions and nice weather, not taking art more seriously than it deserves.

From Noon to about 4pm I stayed in the gallery to greet walk-ins on a cloudy Saturday after Emily and her family moved out. Over the course of the day I learned about Nathaniel’s time in the military as a Korean linguist and his home on a corner lot, talked with Mario and his only grandson Sammy who loved the cars driving by and the ceiling fan, visited with former students who are all grown up in the city now, and ran into Javier who has stopped by several times and decided now to share his story of recent medical challenges and miracles.

Normally, the gallery would sit unoccupied on this night, a glowing beacon of cleanliness waiting for the next tenant to arrive in the morning. But at the last minute a young lady who has visited regularly asked if she and her friends could have an overnight. They are all students from Knox College on summer break, enjoying Chicago ranging from one day to all summer, and eager to live in the space. This will be the shortest shift in the gallery but I have the feeling they’ll pack lots of experiences into their few hours.

I’ve been chipping away at a book (for, let’s be honest, way too long) called Producing Local Color, Art Networks in Ethnic Chicago by Diane Grams. In regards to a then cutting-edge Bronzeville mural project created in 1967 she said, “… the artwork was developed with input and involvement from local residents, before, during, and after the project; in effect, local residents became part of the network of producers who created and shared ownership of the work.” (p. 57)

Transferring her content here, I very much want that “network of producers” to exist in thisPlace. It’s a title that places a weighty but (I think) appropriate amount of ownership on the shoulders of participants. Viewing human movers as embodiments of artful expressions and graceful objectiveness is part of thisPlace. But another side has emerged over the month, the side that illuminates those cross-language initiators and creative generosit-ors, the bold greeters and past-scar seers. This is our local network of producers who will move forward in and in spite of anything accomplished at thisPlace. Perhaps though, the team is a littler larger than it was, holding a tad less fear in our collective tool bag.

July 12, 2015

11:11pm

Day 22

Gallery Dweller: Jennifer Hyman, Avondale resident (with or without her adult daughters and husband)

Sitting Tour: This Place Before story time by Bruce Ray and the congregation of Kimball Avenue Church at their community garden in Logan Square

Dinner Companion: The first no-show companion of the project, filled in by a myriad of pop-in guests while Jennifer ate dinner brought by her daughter

There were too many little lessons and standout thoughts today, even if I had the energy to write them all down I’m not sure my mind would be sharp enough to articulate them properly. It was a busy but very good day.

To recount:

10:30am- At the gallery I discovered not only the two young ladies who occupied the space from last night’s impromptu sleepover but also another friend and her parents… all enjoying a breakfast together around the table. They were so enthusiastic about their experience and seemed to extract every creative opportunity out of their brief stay. In addition to question-asking drawings that hung in the front window they also brought a blank ceiling panel from the parents’ home to turn into an abstract expressionist painting. The panel drove home with them to be added to a ceiling of artwork in their kitchen, a piece of thisPlace added to an elevated floating family quilt.

10:50am- Jennifer got her key and began moving into the gallery. 

11am- My husband, daughter and I joined Kimball Avenue Church for an outdoor church service at their community garden on the corner of Kimball and Medill. I have crossed paths with Pastor Bruce Ray in matters of Housing justice in Logan Square but this was the first time we had a chance to learn about each other in a communal sense.  

12:15am- The KAC potluck cookout began. Some of the kids from their After School Matters program came out too, a young lady named Unique managed the grill while everyone else sat up tables and chairs outside. While breaking bread, I met neighbors who have lived here for decades, swapped vegetarian recipes, learned about gardening and homemade shoelaces, won a game of corn hole for the first time in my life, and laughed comfortably with new friends.

2pm- Things transitioned into a Homegrown Music Concert, something the KAC folks have been doing for a while. As we listened to a father & son guitar/harmonica pairing, I felt very close to my own family history of musical patriarchs. It’s amazing how sound can tie memories so tightly to ourselves. The second act was a classical guitar player. It was striking to me how different the same instrument could be played by two different performers, this time very poetically with a sense of loving tragedy.

3:15pm- A small group of people who managed to stay through everything up to that point, gathered for the official thisPlace story time. It started conversational style as longtime residents shared their thoughts on how the neighborhood has changed over the years. “There are less children playing outside, I miss the sound of their laughter” one woman shared.

Bruce led us on a tour of memories with a fun quiz game that kept everyone involved and having fun. “Who can tell me what the ICI building on Fullerton used to be?” There was a long list of locations and I learned a LOT about our neighborhood’s history. Did you know that the triangle plot of land directly south of Diversey and north of Milwaukee Ave was once the baseball park for a semi-pro team called the Logan Squares? Can you imagine (and where do we get that t-shirt)! I also learned that Kimball Ave is misspelled, originally named after a farmer in this area named Kimbell. The story goes that he was so offended by the misspell that walked along the road hand painting an E on every street sign.

As Bruce very wisely pointed out, to understand the dynamics of our current situation, we must also understand the dynamics of our historical situation. Much of it is fun, some of it is hard, and all of it is valuable.

4:45pm- Drive home.

7:45pm- I walked to the gallery to greet Jennifer after her first day in the gallery. I was blown away by how seriously she took the assignment to move into the space, it is glorious! She brought paintings and used multi-colored tape to decorate the furniture (and fridge)… it seriously could be a show room now.

Her magnetic, smiling personality was infectious and her extroverted personality seemed to glow just as brightly as the neon lights in thisPlace. Despite her dinner companion falling through, she had no lack of companionship at that time. Her daughter came to visit with a meal in a bowl. A young man named Joel stopped in earlier and came back after running errands. Javier and Chloe came back to visit after their nightly run to Dunkin Donuts. A drunken homeless fellow stopped in to pass along some booming words of wisdom. Even a man selling helado (ice cream) from a cart got business from Joel. As people filtered out to head back home there was no shortage of hugs, between humans that were total strangers between two hours and two weeks ago.

9:30pm- I left Jennifer and her daughter to watch Netflix and (hopefully) unwind from a big day.

9:45pm- My work began. Creating flyers for this coming week of events, editing pictures taken today, writing this review. Rolling in just past midnight I’ll post to the online spheres and crawl in bed to prepare for another awesome day.

And there you have it.

July 13, 2015

10:23pm

Day 23

Gallery Dweller: Jennifer Hyman, resident of Logan Square on the boarder of Avondale (just found that out tonight)

Dinner Companion: Emily and Mark DeLew, Avondale residents

I am at a remarkable loss for words tonight.

At 6:24pm I missed a call from Jennifer and promptly called her back while walking home from the park with my daughter and our friends. Twenty three days into the project and phone calls from dwellers usually consist of being locked out or someone looking for the owner of the building. It only took about ten seconds to realize this was not that kind of call.

Jennifer spoke rapidly with tears behind her eyes.

A few minutes before, she had been feeling wary about a man who stops and lingers too long at the gallery, carrying with him a clear mental disability and too much self-medicated alcohol. He has made many stops throughout the month and has been awkward but not threatening. When he came back yet again to the locked door tonight, Jennifer gestured to the closed sign and went back to work. He was persistent and smiling though, so she decided to open the door for a formal goodbye. He asked for a hug. When she obliged the friendly request, his body language became impure and when he kissed her on the neck, Jennifer responded with a punch and immediate dismissal.  

With a police report and some decompression time, Jennifer told me that she would not let someone else’s actions keep her tied to fear. She planned to stay in the gallery for her second night.

Dinner carried on as planned, I’m not even sure if Jennifer mentioned the experience to her companions. It seemed like a fun double date from the outside. After I joined, we talked about local topics and got to know each other better. Javier and his daughter Chloe stopped in again, this time Chloe brought me a drawing of her and I that she made earlier that day. I am blown away by that quiet little girl and her acts of generosity which I absolutely don’t deserve. As the other adults talked about life threatening illnesses and other topics which scare children to pieces, she and I chatted about her love of subtraction and goats at the zoo that try to eat her hair.

Someone told me recently at thisPlace that I should be a sociologist and not an artist. I responded that art gives me more freedom to look for truths that don’t manifest as facts. Tonight I’m struggling with my optimistic hypothesis of this gesture in the face of fully antithetical data. The reality is that facts manipulate any experiment… whether it be art or science. Something about thisPlace has changed tonight; or more aptly put, my perception of thisPlace has changed.

And just as I start to feel my heart harden into a ball of cynicism and fear, my mind is drawn back to little Chloe. She certainly has real and sincere fears as a child, some of them will guide her away from hot stove tops, steep cliffs, and dangerous situations. But abstract and elusive FEAR is what will strip her of the remarkable resiliency she now has to trust and hope and forgive and love in spite of momentary contradictions. I desperately hope she refuses to exchange her useful tool for a dangerous weapon. I hope that for Jennifer and myself tonight too.

The facts at this moment: The man returned to the gallery window twice in the time it took me to write this reflection. The police found and arrested him.

The truth of this moment: I am looking at a child’s drawing of me smiling with a home-shaped art gallery in the distance and to answer my question “How are you feeling?” Jennifer responded “Empowered.”

July 14, 2015

10:53pm

Day 24

Gallery Dweller: Jennifer Hyman moved out

Community Evening: Evening with Mindfulness led by Artist and Energy Therapist Aga Furtak

Today was as relaxed at thisPlace as yesterday was intense.

I strolled to the gallery in the late afternoon to see Jennifer before she hung up her hat and took all her lovely interior designer ways with her. She was welcoming, eager, and intensely challenged during her stay at thisPlace. I am grateful.

Later in the evening I arrived back, this time with no toddler, to prepare for the Community Evening with Aga Furtak… a new and unlikely friend. She and her boyfriend Aaron came, and that was it. We talked casually as we waited for more people to arrive and as time marched on, our very natural conversation went further and further into the stories that make us who we are. We never did get to the actual activity Aga planned for the evening but I must say the conversation was worth its weight in gold.

As I walked home, talking on the phone with another participant for Saturday nights Language Workshop event, I heard a distant man calling “excuse me!” I looked forward and backward and saw no one. Then I heard the voice again, coming from directly above. A man was leaning out his window asking if I lived in that building. “I don’t, sorry, just walking by” I said. He quickly explained that he and his roommate just moved into their apartment and accidentally locked themselves inside. They were in desperate need to have someone unlock the door from the outside.

In the spirit of thisPlace, and after confirmation that his roommate was a female, I caught his house keys from two stories up and followed his directions to find the apartment. I had always wondered what the inside of that building looked like. It is old, and looks it. It also felt distinctly like a prison or maze, stark white thin halls leading in circles of similar looking doors. I found the right number and used the key to unlock the door. It worked, they had told the truth, and they were kind. They wanted to give me something as a thank you, so I asked to take a picture (which wouldn’t focus from the low light, but I love it anyway). It was odd to tell someone about the project standing at their door with their keys in my hand; like a bizarre-o world soliciting burglar. Perhaps I will see my unexpected neighbors again someday, so long as they keep the old fashioned door from locking again.

Now I prepare for the final push at thisPlace. One more gallery dweller to move in tomorrow. One more Community Evening on Saturday night. One more Walking Tour on Sunday at 2pm. One final Closing Party to seal this project as done and move onto the next artist at Corner. Let’s do this.

July 15, 2015

10:34pm

Day 25

Gallery Dweller: Erika Carter moved in this morning, an Avondale resident

Dinner Companion: Amie Sell was scheduled but was unable to make it. So I came as a fill-in and opened up the invite via facebook to everyone else. Jennifer Hyman, her daughter Paz and friend Scott, Michelle Alba, and Dan Pogorzelski came.

Erika is one of the adventurous people who responded to the DNAinfo article about thisPlace a month before it opened. Her initial email showed her focus and kindness all at the same time. She said “I am an Avondale resident and I would love to participate, if possible. Thank you!”

Despite a steady stream of emails and the obligatory background check where I heard from her close friends about how amazing she is (they love you Erika!) we didn’t actually meet in person until this morning. She made sure to be in the space all day and moved in objects that reflect her personality (black & pink roller skates, playing cards, a dated photograph of a military mans, her Karate uniform ... to name a few).

Erika’s dinner companion for tonight (local artist and activist Amie Sell) was forced to cancel due to a medical emergency. Ironically, later in the evening poor Erika also had to take leave of the gallery for her home due to a spontaneous stomach bug that came to roost. She had the determination of an athlete to stick it out and live fully into the experiment. At some point though, even her intentional focus was no match for the call of home in a time of illness. I’m happy to know she is treating her body with grace and hope for a speedy recovery for all the unexpected illnesses in thisPlace-landia.

Before we were aware of the impending tragedy awaiting Erika, myself and Jennifer Hyman came to the gallery as last minute dinner companion fill-ins. I’ve never tried to spontaneously rectify a dinner party via social media until this project, it works surprisingly well.  Shortly after we bought tacos across the street for dinner, Michelle spotted us from her parking spot across the street and stopped in with a ukulele in tow. Dan came by with a Burger King crown for everyone. Later Paz and Scott came by.

We learned together that grapefruit Jarritos is the best flavor, Ghandi was a Bro, and every song played with a ukulele sounds Hawaiian. We had a head-swaying-table-top-drumming mini concerto and learned 50% of the people at the table are called names other than the ones on their birth certificates (myself included). I had a comfortable, interesting, humorous, spontaneous, old-friend-feeling evening with people I did not know at all before thisPlace began.

Sadly Erika was out of commission for this portion of the evening. But it just so happened that her stay is scheduled to be one day longer than everyone else’s. So nothing has really been lost here, just equalized.

July 16, 2015

11:17pm

Day 26

Gallery Dweller: Erika Carter, Avondale resident

Dinner Companion: Jasmin Jimenez was unable to come due to work conflict so Wendy Radakovich, Lauren Robinson, and two of Erika’s friends came for a spontaneous meal together

So far Erika’s time at thisPlace has been altogether abnormal… if “normal” is something that can be said for the project.

Both dinner companions for these two nights have had to cancel the day-of due to unforeseen circumstances, Erika slept at home last night due to illness, and about ten minutes I got a text from her saying she had to go home again because a (different) man was trying to enter the gallery without permission. She called the police to make the man leave and then decided to head home for extra security.

And yet she’s really made the best of things. She has been a gracious hostess to myself and many neighbors who have stopped in to chat. She told me about a man named Joe who shared a plethora of interesting stories yesterday while simultaneously drawing some graphics to hang in the front window. When her dinner companion couldn’t come tonight, she rolled with the changes and contributed to a great conversation with my friends Wendy and Lauren who came to see the piece for the first time. She even helped my daughter try on her headgear which was a big hit for a two year old.

Tonight’s dinner conversation was extremely informative to my understanding of our shared city. We talked about big Chicago Issues like food desserts on the south side, the school system, the old neighborhood, and gang violence… but it never felt like an abstract exercise in social theory. Each topic was bathed in personal stories from these women’s lives; about their parents, siblings, friends, spouses, children, memories, feelings, experiences. I had to intentionally tear myself away when Charlotte’s bedtime came (and went). Hopefully she absorbed some of their stories through the sound of cartoons on the tv.

Erika has one more night in the gallery before her shift comes to an end and the living portion of the gallery draws to a close. Hopefully she gets to have one night there without threat to her body, internally or externally. 

July 17, 2015

9:20pm

Day 27

Gallery Dweller: Erika Carter, Avondale resident

Dinner Companion: Ellen Ray, lifelong local resident and Executive Director at Center for Changing Lives

In the last couple years I coined a personal motto:  

If something is stunning to the eye, don’t take a picture of it… compression will kill the song in it. If something is overlooked or considered ordinary, make a photo… because in the image it will find a stage for singing its song.

That’s actually the first time I’ve written it down. It usually comes out as some awkward stammer that gets the point across in a much less poetic way. But it has served me well as I too often get camera-happy in a moment that I should just revel with the senses God gave me.

thisPlace started out as a gesture that was not only ordinary in appearance but downright confusing. I have talked with many people that simply could not grasp the notion that this could be art…“Do you hang something up on the wall, then?”  Almost everyone needed an introductory course on the concept before it made sense, a conversational artist statement in a way. It has been fundamental to me that no one feels inferior, left out, or condemned for not understanding the project or disagreeing with its identification as art. I am disgusted by art universes that operated by and for a narrow cross section of humanity and disqualify others for a lack of niche theoretical or cultural knowledge. Anyone who is curious and imaginative should have access to participate in the intentionally creative world around them. But I’ll stand down from that soap box for the moment.

Tonight was the final Dinner on Display for thisPlace. I popped in for a few minutes to see how things were going and take some photos as usual. As I stepped back to get shots from every angle, it occurred to me that the space has become so familiar and the concept has been so embraced by the community, that it has (nearly) passed from a display-of-the-overlooked into a stop-and-revel experience.

One woman who had stopped in earlier this month walked past the window with her children while Erika, Crystal, Ellen and I talked at the table. Instead of the original slow backwards glance that used to come from pretty much all viewers, she smiled wide and waved with confidence (and she is by no means the only one who now does this). I have only talked to her one time for about ten minutes and she had never met the other ladies. Yet she understood what was happening there… and that made it Home to her.

Just as the project is getting ready to expire, it seems to have established itself as a habit in the neighborhood. On one hand I feel sad that it will not have a chance to live into the strengths that kind of habit can offer. On the other hand, it’s an art project, and I never intended for it to exist beyond its own need for an image. It has become significantly more vibrant (and useful) than I had dreamed… so now it passes away to make room for the core concept to manifest inside the minds of those who engaged with and in it.

As I walked home from the gallery tonight, the sky was outrageously beautiful; a floating mountain-scape of billowing orange clouds hugging the hot air. I defied my motto for once and took a picture. The photo cannot live up to the depth of that actual sky, but it will always help me remember that whether something is stunning or simple, everything (and everyone) has a song to sing.

July 18, 2015

10:24pm

Day 28

Gallery Dweller: Erika Carter, the final gallery dweller, moved out.

Community Evening: Hello=Hola=Czesc; Language Workshop to Help Strangers Become Neighbors. Led by Lorena Pacheco and Dan Pogorzelski.

If I were one to title these writings, tonight’s would be “Sí is Tak.”

I decided to do a language workshop as the final Community Evening of thisPlace. Conceptually I intended for it to be a final send-off, offering practical tools for neighbors to venture forth knowing how to, at the very least, say hello and other initial talkatives to neighbors who use a different language. No matter how you look at it, not being able to literally talk to another person really restricts the possibilities for communication.

Tornado watches and block parties vied for local attention, so it was a very slow evening. Lorena, Rob, Dan and I had a good time learning the phonetic Polish alphabet and a few people stopped by briefly to talk about things more or less unrelated to bilingual language skills. Most others ran away terrified that we were trying to sell them something they didn’t want.

Of the many observations I’ve made throughout the month, it’s been (interesting, hard, challenging, un/expected) to see that cultures rarely mix, even in a space intentionally built for it. Plenty of strangers have met, talked, and powered through the subtle differences that keep communities divided. But more often than not, people come in when others of a shared culture are already present. Bridge-builders exist of course, those who have the special gift of associating intimately to more than one culture and are therefore capable of bringing people together into a mutual learning opportunity. That is how I view Lorena and Dan, the teachers at this workshop.

Bridge-builders are everywhere, spanning large and small chasms alike. Perhaps the bridges just need to grow stronger and longer in connection to each other. Because it was really fun to stumble through Polish pronunciations tonight and discover that a word I’ve been using in Spanish for years simply doesn’t exist in the way I’ve been using it. Fun because it was safe, awkward because it was hard, useful because I will use it if I’m intentional about being a bridge.

Which brings me back to the title: Sí is Tak.

Between four adults that spanned three languages (or more), this jumble of a word play came out of one or more of our mouths quite spontaneously. It actually means Yes is Yes. Spanish English Polish. It was not an intentional word play to sound fancy or educated, it just came out as we fumbled through three languages and managed to take in a little of them all at once. It’s nonsense and makes total sense at the same time. Which reminds me of all this human interaction stuff we try to do.

Sí is Tak. Yes is Yes. Go bridges, do your thing.

July 19, 2015

11:36pm

Day 29

Walking Tour: Led by Avondale resident Alice Wozniak

Closing Party

Surely this month was longer than all the others, it must have been. It feels like a year ago that Margaret moved in on that first fateful day. So much about thisPlace has changed or manifested in unexpected (and better) ways than I originally anticipated. There is a danger in letting other people handle something precious… but it can also make something great. And I think this month was pretty great.

Alice led the final walking tour at 2pm today, starting at Corner gallery with a sweep through the heart of Avondale and her personal history in the neighborhood. These tours have been one of my favorite things about the project. Repeatedly today we kept commenting on how many times we’d zoomed past the areas but never noticed the subtle, elegant, thoughtful details all around. We found a neighbor-made community garden space, learned about the former life of buildings and empty lots, and I even discovered that someone else on the tour has visited Mt Vernon, Ohio where my family is from. Our world is not nearly as big as we try to make it.

The closing party immediately followed the walking tour at 3pm. I displayed the various objects, notes, and drawings that were left in thisPlace throughout the month. Having objects on the wall seemed to draw more lookers and therefore pop-in-ers, even before the official party began. I think it read more intuitively like a gallery, though I’ve never known a traditional gallery to inspire such bold curiously.

If it hadn’t been for spontaneous helping friends, the party would have swept over me. Instead, Terry who I had just met for the walking tour, stayed to cut the watermelon and set out the food. Andrea came back with the effigy sculpture from July 2nd, manned the outside area, and kept Charlotte from running into the road on countless occasions. Nick and his son came back to visit and entertained Charlotte for a long time so I could talk to visitors and Nate could selflessly cook dozens of hotdogs on the grill. People stopped in who had never been by, others had a homecoming of sorts, and there were remarkable conversations at every corner of Corner.

By the end, we had well over-run the expected time frame (in an easy loss-of-time way) and more than one child was covered in watermelon juice, acrylic paint, and sweat. Local children organized to create a breathtaking mini-mural, their combined skills put some professional painters to shame. Neighbors were friendly, available, and even dug into some of the harder topics that effect their communities and lives.

And now tomorrow I will tear down the piece, bring the white living space home, and begin to sell the parts. It’s certainly bitter sweet. But tonight I will sleep with no to-do list on my hand and with satisfaction in my soul. It was, indeed, a great month.

July 20, 2015

10:11pm

Day 30

Deinstall

I hadn’t intended to write again today, considering the piece technically ended yesterday. And yet here I am. Force of habit perhaps… much like thisPlace itself. As my husband so eloquently put it tonight, I will never feel about the project the same way I do at this moment.

So how do I feel? 

Sweaty for one; from a day of heavy lifting and back-and-forth-ing, turning an “all-white living space” (how many times have I said that this month?) back into a white cube. Even during the deconstruction process, people stopped by to talk and ask questions, many for the first time. One group even helped me load the couches into the SUV and another couple of guys carried the kitchen cart without my asking.

I also feel annoyed at myself for leaving my good camera at home. I envisioned today as a chore that had to be done and done ugly. Usually the pomp and enthusiasm of a dismantle is much smaller than the first days of setup. But I should have known better… thisPlace may have a definitive stopping point but it also went out with a remarkable ease of transition. It’s got character, something that always translates well into photos.

Some objects were intentionally left behind: the dismantled table, the fridge that has always lived there, a broken chair, the green rocking chair, the desk and small objects that felt like staying. I found it fitting to make a temporary traditional gallery display out of those remnants. The table top was particularly lovely. Pen marks, knots bleeding through the white paint, food stains… a new art object created by the hands of many makers over the hours of many days. The way I observed and handled that wooden surface tonight reminded me of the delicate care I once gave to my very first paintings over a decade ago. Tonight became a temporary second showing of the same project, the physical manifestations of once invisible objects.

I feel extremely grateful for the opportunity to make this piece in this gallery at this time. It was a gift that I did not earn and it was the culmination of twenty different personal processes coming together into one spark of life. Despite my overuse of this word, I can only think to describe it as bittersweet.

As we debriefed on the couch tonight, my husband asked me what I hope will come out of thisPlace. The still young person in me wants to draft a detailed plan for the future with fierce expectations of traditionally shaped success. Yet there’s another person growing larger in time, and she is just… content. She seems to know that whatever comes next will be full and fully unpredictable. So my most sincere hope for thisPlace is that it contributes to that fullness… not just for myself but for everyone who interacted within its breath. I may never be able to quantify the impact it’s made, but I’m not sure that is a necessary kind of data. It seems there is another data altogether more valuable and wherever that can be found is where I hope to also be.

So this is thisPlace, signing off. See you there.