Markemmanuel

I visited an old friend a few Saturdays ago.  I haven’t seen her in years.  It was my fault.  I wanted to introduce her to a girl that I was seeing at the time but that girl didn’t want to meet my friend.  My friend didn’t care. Although she changed in appearance, she’s still the same.  She’s still beautiful.   She welcomed me with open arms.  She isn’t a person.  She’s actually a place in the city, the Art Institute of Chicago.  I visit when I need time to escape and experience the view point and skill of other people.

Chicago is a great place to experience.  A trumpet player was performing a jazz set when I stepped onto the train platform from the train car. I couldn’t help but stop and listen.  Everyone around me wanted to leave but they were pulled the sound of his horn.  I stood there, watched, and listen. For a brief moment he paused to prepare for his next set,  I was able to rip myself away so I can walk to the Art Institute.

The stately lions still guard the main entrance.  The Streetwise guy continues to greet and entertain her waiting visitors.  He was there a last time I visited her.  He’s there now.  It wouldn’t be the same without him.  He’s part of the Art Institute experience.

I walked through the halls of the Art Institute fascinated by the art within her walls.   The paintings and sculptures seem to evoke a fourth dimension that goes beyond the senses and beyond reason.   They appeared to be alive with thought and emotion.  This is where formed my ideas of what beauty is. Perhaps it is why I see the female figure different most men my age.

The masses flowed into the special exhibit, Becoming Edvard Munch: Influence, Anxiety, and Myth.  The work on display showed his influences and progression as an artist, a communicator.  As many artists do, Munch related to me.   He related to everyone on some level.  Another special exhibit that impresses is the photography of Yousuf Karsh. His portraits are very sculptural in tells his audience a lot about this subjects.

As I walked out of the Art Institute, I heard beats reverberate against the city’s canyons.  The synchronized and on point beats became louder as I walked out of the Art Institute. In front of the Art Institute, five Black-American teenagers slapped their drumsticks on five gallon pails with precise and flawless movement. The beats echoed against the wall of surrounding buildings and through captivated a crowd that gathered around them.  After swimming though the crowd, I played in the Crown fountains near Cloud Gate.  My feet and pants were thoroughly soaked.  It was fun but cold.

My buddy, DiC,  and I ate at the Park Grill in Millennium Park.  The food cost a lot less than we expected.  The Shamrock Shuffle had a coupon for a free entree and two dollar beers.  We walked around and I discovered my true calling.  I’m going to become an architect who designs buildings that looked like crumpled paper.

Afterward, we headed north to meet DiC’s friend at the Hunt Club to watch the Final Four.  We stopped by the Chicago Cultural Center to check out this beautiful old library filled with art.  Down Michigan Avenue, I saw more performers, American Gothic on steroids, and a Free Peep Show.  We capped off the night watching a good game,  good drinks, and a great waitress.  All this for only $20.00 the entire day.

Next month, I’ll be visiting Mexico through Chicago’s Mexican-American enclave of Pilsen.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 21st, 2009 at 10:40 am and is filed under Finance, Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.