See more pictures from Chicago in my SmugMug Gallery.
If I were a travel writer, I would call this post, "Chicago, City of Contrasts." But I'm not. And that's a cheesy title. So let's say this - Chicago is two cities. One is found down a dirty alleyway with creaking fire escapes climbing up the crumbling brick. It is haunted by the ghosts of signs painted on buildings, and the rickety El train, clackety clacking its way between buildings and houses, screeching above the streets that it casts in permanent shadow. It is the Chicago of Kander and Ebb and organized crime.
On the other hand, Chicago is a modern city with more respect for urban planning and public spaces than a girl from Los Angeles can fathom. Since the planning of the 1893 World's Columbian Exhibition, Chicago has been gussied up and ready to receive guests. Parks line the edge of Lake Michigan, hosting visitors and locals with concerts, gardens and magnificent sculpture. In the suburbs, the doors and stairs and fences of beautifully preserved row houses gleam with black paint. And my favorite - the nice man on the El train that announces the name of the exit. (Take notes, New York.)
So here are a few of my favorite things about Chicago:
Hot Dogs:
I have always been of the New York school of dogs - mustard only. Sauerkraut if you are feeling saucy. That's it. But Chicago has its own ideas. Let's break it down: bun with poppy seeds, steamed dog, sweet relish, onions, mustard, WHOLE PICKLE SPEAR, celery salt. Oh yeah, and "sport peppers" which I believe are jalapenos. I have to admit, it's pretty good. It's good enough that I ran (yes, literally ran) four city blocks to get my last dog before the cab took me to the airport. I can't say that my minimalist ways have been permanently changed, but my eyes have been opened. Did I mention the whole pickle spear?
Millennium Park:
I wrote it off just based on the name. I was here in Chicago to protograph the old and crumbling - why should I go somewhere to celebrate a park that was created for the Millennium, and didn't make it in time? It brings to mind great premonitions of the year 2000, and Y2K - the greatest disappointment in public hysteria. But I went, only because it was on the way to Grant Park, Chicago's "front yard" since 1844. (Enjoy this, you won't hear it often...) I was totally wrong. Millennium Park is amazing. The Pritzker Pavilion (despite being designed by Frank Ghery in his usual "scrap metal in a blender" style that was so revolutionary in Bilbao and now seems as tired as an Elton John rework of Candle In The Wind) houses an outdoor ampitheater to rival our beloved Hollywood Bowl. A cellist was warming up for this evening's performance, entertaining an entire city lounged on the grass for a picnic or a snooze. Then a few steps away, my obsession of the trip, which is worthy of its own section:
The Bean:
I am not a fan of public art. There, I said it. In general, a large sculpture at the base of an office building does little to inspire me, but Chicago's "Cloud Gate," also known as "The Bean" has changed all that. On one side, the dramatic Chicago skyline, on the other, Lake Michigan and an endless supply of sky. And in the middle of all that? A giant chrome bean. You heard me. A bean. It's freaking enormous and surrounded by tourists taking their own picture and it's amazing. It reflects everything around it, multiplying the sky, the buildings, the people. On our last day I woke before 6am and ran over to the Bean, just so I could be the only person it reflected. (See my future post, "Mirrors and Narccissism; a Discourse on Reflective Public Art.") It is amazing and only the pictures can describe it. And even those don't do it justice.
The El:
I am terrified of the New York Subway. The second I walk down those urine scented stairs, I have lost all sense of direction. I guess at which subway I should be on, and when I should exit. When the doors open, I have no idea if I am at my stop or not, but I get off, if only to avoid ending up in Queens. So you can imagine my terror as I stepped up to the platform of Chicago's elevated train system, aka the El. I was determined to explore the city while my husband was working, and this is the only way it was going to happen. I walked nervously by the ticket machine a few times before I was able to pull the trigger. I checked and rechecked my route (a whole two stops,) called my husband relentlessly, took a deep breath and walked right onto the El. The Brown Line to Kimball wound its way, first through buildings, then through smaller shops and quaint row houses. We jogged right and left, clacking over the tracks like Disneyland's Thunder Mountain. Two exits later, I was hooked.
Taking Pictures in Chicago:
As with all big cities, Chicago is full of beautiful architecture and scenery, and hosts some really harsh shadows in the middle of the day. The sun in directly overhead until evening, then disappears behind the city, leaving the details overexposed in harsh midday sun or in dark formless shadow. On our last day, unable to resist the call of the Early Morning Camera Club, I was out on the street with my camera slightly before 6am to find the first beautiful warm light of the trip. Looking up between buildings, the sky was bright blue and wisps of clouds were lit with warm morning light. For the fourth time this trip, I sprinted for the park, eager to be enveloped in this light, and more importantly, to be the only person in the Bean, alone with the skyline, the sky and the rising sun. Phew. I made it.
Conclusion - as always, if you are going to take pictures in Chicago, get up with the sun. You will have about an hour of golden light. Then leave your camera at the hotel until the sun sets and the lights go on. But the middle of the day? Forget about it.
