Saturday, September 16, 2006
DAY ELEVEN: CHICAGO II
A wood chipper revs up in the alley around 9am. Seeing as we went to bed around 3:30, this is a problem. I'm adapting to Molly's schedule, yet still feel guilty about waking up at 11:30. She's bogged down by a developing cold.
We go to Millenium Park, next to the Art Institute and Grant Park. A Celtic Festival is in full swing--harps, bagpipes, thick sweaters and all. People are out in droves, kids play in the video fountain, tourists photograph themselves in "The Bean," Anish Kapoor's mirrored sculpture. Molly and I talk about Allie, a girl who entered our school in 7th grade. She lives in Chicago and Molly is still friends with her. I tell Molly how divisive I felt Allie was to our friendship that year. It feels funny it took me this long to address it, thus making it more momentous than necessary. But Molly seems to understand because she knows Allie and her behaviors. Though I take comfort in Molly's psychological distance from Allie, I realize Molly stays in touch with both of us for the same reason--history.
Molly drops me off at the Museum of Contemporary Art. I must have looked intensely at everything for two hours, because when I emerge at 5:30 the world looks like a photograph. Little scenes are set up wherever my eyes go. Four boys, pairs in matching t-shirts, walk down the street and pass an approaching bride and groom and a backwards-walking photographer. In the adjacent park, a little girl exclaims "Look, a wife!"
Swarms of people walk along Michigan Avenue. As I wait for the bus outside Watertower, my fascination continues. Is it Chicago? My remote summer in Maine? The two hours in the museum? Photographing any of it would ruin the spell. I feel simuletaneously enlivened and removed by my looking.
Back at the apartment I try to set up my new scanner, but the connection doesn't work with my computer. Not to be dampened, I mindlessly fix the spot that appears on all 340 images I shot of my friend Alison's wedding. I also watch the big screen TV and numb my mind. Molly gets home at 2:45.
I have a sneeking suspicion I'm revisiting the four homes of my childhood with these four residencies.
A wood chipper revs up in the alley around 9am. Seeing as we went to bed around 3:30, this is a problem. I'm adapting to Molly's schedule, yet still feel guilty about waking up at 11:30. She's bogged down by a developing cold.
We go to Millenium Park, next to the Art Institute and Grant Park. A Celtic Festival is in full swing--harps, bagpipes, thick sweaters and all. People are out in droves, kids play in the video fountain, tourists photograph themselves in "The Bean," Anish Kapoor's mirrored sculpture. Molly and I talk about Allie, a girl who entered our school in 7th grade. She lives in Chicago and Molly is still friends with her. I tell Molly how divisive I felt Allie was to our friendship that year. It feels funny it took me this long to address it, thus making it more momentous than necessary. But Molly seems to understand because she knows Allie and her behaviors. Though I take comfort in Molly's psychological distance from Allie, I realize Molly stays in touch with both of us for the same reason--history.
Molly drops me off at the Museum of Contemporary Art. I must have looked intensely at everything for two hours, because when I emerge at 5:30 the world looks like a photograph. Little scenes are set up wherever my eyes go. Four boys, pairs in matching t-shirts, walk down the street and pass an approaching bride and groom and a backwards-walking photographer. In the adjacent park, a little girl exclaims "Look, a wife!"
Swarms of people walk along Michigan Avenue. As I wait for the bus outside Watertower, my fascination continues. Is it Chicago? My remote summer in Maine? The two hours in the museum? Photographing any of it would ruin the spell. I feel simuletaneously enlivened and removed by my looking.
Back at the apartment I try to set up my new scanner, but the connection doesn't work with my computer. Not to be dampened, I mindlessly fix the spot that appears on all 340 images I shot of my friend Alison's wedding. I also watch the big screen TV and numb my mind. Molly gets home at 2:45.
I have a sneeking suspicion I'm revisiting the four homes of my childhood with these four residencies.
