By Rachel Berkowitz & Deborah Peña

“In Chicago, the pretense is to have no pretense.” Lincoln Schatz leans back from one of the many drafting tables in his large, unadorned downtown studio. Dressed in a button-down shirt and jeans, the artist exudes an easy, laid-back manner that is oddly consistent with the rough-hewn, industrial aesthetic of his workspace. Unadorned and strictly functional, Schatz’s studio lacks the overwrought signifiers typically associated with creative lifestyles; there are no dripping buckets of paint or half finished sculptures, nobody has overdosed in the bathroom, and as far as we can tell, Schatz has showered today. Read the rest of this entry »

As a musician-turned-painter, Robert “Baabe” Irving III is in famous, if not necessarily good, company. A foray into the visual arts seems to be the cool thing for past-their-prime rockers and strummers to do nowadays—Bob Dylan just had his first public exhibition of prints and sketches, Lou Reed’s second photography book was published not so long ago, and even Paul McCartney is contributing to the art market with a collection of lithographs. Talent among these men spans the spectrum, but Irving’s work falls nicely in the middle, as displayed by his show “Generations of Jazz Dreamscapes” at the eta Creative Arts Foundation. Read the rest of this entry »

The South Side Community Art Center (SSCAC) is like one of those half-forgotten, yet deeply comforting places found in dreams: walking along a Bronzeville city street, you suddenly find yourself at an old, worn Edwardian house that seems to tower over the surrounding buildings. Opening the door of the distinctive little castle, you come upon a large gallery of shiny oak parquet. With luck, there may be a crowd of locals gossiping inside the main gallery, and perhaps even a man at the piano playing “When the Saints Come Marching In,” with an impromptu chorus. In short, this gallery is quite warming, memorable, and intimate. Read the rest of this entry »

No one is a stranger to daydreams of turning back the clock. Thoughts of time travel act as a fantastical conduit for our feelings of regret, perceptions of chances bygone and speculations on the consequences of our actions. Theories of time-space continuum manipulation abound in the world of physics. Notable literary figures have successfully deployed time travel as a thematic device to secure it a prominent place in the minds of imaginative readers. But, though the act of time travel itself does not suffer from thinkers’ neglect, no veritable time traveler has yet to make himself known to the world. Read the rest of this entry »

At first glance, a casual visitor might not expect Bridgeport to be an emerging hub for Chicago’s art scene: streets are stark, shops are scattered, and the wind chimes that dangle from residential houses break the silence. But lo and behold, on the southeast corner of 32nd and Morgan is the Co-Prosperity Sphere, one of the motors behind Bridgeport’s art renaissance. Read the rest of this entry »

“In my exhibit ‘Quest for the Cyclops Pyramid,’ I depict fantastical, otherworldly characters in their quest for this intangible force known only as the ‘Cyclops Pyramid,’” says the artist statement for 32nd&Urban’s new exhibition. This is, in fact, a true statement, for what else would conical, one-eyed, and sometimes feathered monstrosities be searching for as they traverse jungles, rivers and brightly-colored otherworldly planes? Also true: “It has been said that finding what one seeks is not as important as the quest itself.” This has, in fact, been said. Read the rest of this entry »

So, another review glowing polysyllabically over some obscure gallery opening in Pilsen probably won’t turn too many heads. I don’t care; the Chicago Art Department’s new show, “Night of the Living Artist,” deserves every bit of overarticulated praise coming its way. Read the rest of this entry »

A hallway on the second floor of the Hyde Park Art Center contains a little piece of nature, tucked away. Turning the corner into the space outside the Black Box Gallery, the viewer sees what at first appears to be large photographs of verdant, leafy trees covered in vines. Upon closer inspection, the foreground of vines and leaves turns out to be mostly thick globs and lines of paint. For her exhibition, “They Call Me Theirs,” artist Catherine Forster printed out video stills of natural scenes, painted them, then digitized and reprinted them. In some of the inkjet prints, the paint closely mimics the natural contours of the image, while in one spectacular triptych from the “Hanging Garden Installation,” “Hearts,” a giant smear of paint with rich yellow, green, and orange streaks covers up almost all of the duller green scene behind it. Somehow the colorful smear seems more natural than the mostly obscured trees. Read the rest of this entry »