Angela Qian

If you follow a delivery truck with a logo for 100% pure beef emblazoned on its side through the streets of Bridgeport, there are only a few places it may lead. If you’re lucky and hungry enough, you’ll find yourself at a tiny little building on Halsted and 36th Street, home of Zebra’s Gourmet Hot Dogs. On a recent cold windy day, a few friends and I were just so lucky.

Inside, Zebra’s has a homey feel, with checkered napkins and plastic chairs ringed around white tables. The front of the house is cozy, not a large-scale dining establishment by any means; the counter at which I ordered was also the partition between the eating area and the kitchen. Standing at the counter, the married owners greeted us warmly and—seeing our indecision over the menu—told us that everything on it was only a suggestion and that we could customize our toppings as we liked.

In the end, we stuck with the menu, and ordered four different hot dogs with fries: the Philly, the Chicago Classic, the El Paso, and the Bronx Reuben. Each person’s order came to exactly five dollars. We sat down and waited for our food to come while we sipped the water brought to our tables.

Our hot dogs arrived in diner-esque little black baskets, wrapped in black and white paper and filled with huge sides of fries. There was also a small box with corn fritters covered with powdered sugar, cheerily given “on the house” to the only person in our group who hadn’t ordered fries. Crisp on the outside and not too sweet, the corn fritters were delicious. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for the fries, which were soggy and loaded with far too much salt.

The hot dogs themselves, made from Nathan’s 100% beef, were all filling and juicy. Topped with salsa, jalapenos, and onions, the El Paso was colorfully loaded up on a nicely toasted bun. The jalapenos and onions added a nice kick to it, but the salsa was too sour and too plentiful, nearly overwhelming the rest of the dog.

Upon receiving her Chicago Classic hot dog, my friend smothered it in ketchup before we could warn her about the overwhelming hatred of true born and bred Chicagoans for that red condiment. Ketchup aside, she did say that it was a good hot dog—not exactly news to most Chicagoans.

My friend who had ordered the Philly was understandably distracted by his corn fritters. After savoring one or two of them, he finally unwrapped his hot dog and tried it, saying only—not eloquently—that it was “good,” the meat filling and the flavors interesting. He did not accessorize his food with condiments, content with the swiss cheese, grilled peppers, and onions that made for a colorful and apparently tasty combination of toppings.

Meanwhile, the Bronx Reuben, unwrapped, was completely heaped with a brownish substance that was probably the sweet kraut detailed on the menu. In defiance of my friend with the ketchup, this friend smothered his hot dog in mustard and demolished it, adding only that he also liked the bun. But he must have been sincere, as he also ordered a second hot dog to-go for his late-night snack later on.

As we got ready to leave, one of the owners came over and asked if there was anything she could wrap up for us. She presented the two to-go hot dogs, which had been kept warm in a brown paper bag reminiscent of a motherly packed lunch from elementary school days. My friend licked the last remnants of powdered sugar off of his fingers before the little baskets and wrappers were taken away.

We were satisfied, not elevated to another state of being. But, that’s hot dogs, reliable and true. Luckily, Zebra adds just enough flair to make it something special.

3551 S. Halsted St. Monday-Friday, 11am-8pm; Saturday, noon-6pm. (773)940-1526.

Rachel Wiseman & lindsaybanks/flickr

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The dusty green and yellow “Ramova” marquee straddles a now unused entrance at the corner of 35th and South Halsted. Inside the Ramova Theater, founded in 1929, the Spanish-style auditorium gives way to what was once a midnight blue ceiling, studded with stars that glittered as Charlie Chaplin graced the silver screen. When the marquee was less dusty, childhood classics like Bambi and famous American blockbusters like Jaws played under that night sky until the Ramova closed in 1986. In 2001, the city took over the building—seemingly the final nail in a coffin containing a piece of Bridgeport’s history.

But Bridgeport resident Maureen Sullivan is striving to regain control. Born and raised in Bridgeport, the friendly yet fiercely committed Sullivan remembers her weekly trips to the Ramova Theater to watch the latest releases. Like countless other Bridgeport and Chicago residents, the Ramova is central to Sullivan’s childhood recollections, a treasured memory that has stayed with her since her youth.

“Almost everyone who has lived in the neighborhood during the last few decades has been inside the Ramova,” said Sullivan. “The theater was a focal part of this extremely vibrant life in Bridgeport that no one ever forgot, even after it was shut down.”

The vibrancy Sullivan speaks of harkens back to the 1970s, when Mexican, Chinese, and Lithuanian-Americans transformed Bridgeport into a multi-ethnic community, a place that for many constituted the quintessential Chicago neighborhood. Nowadays, the area has been a political and cultural hotbed, enticing more and more young college grads looking for affordable, safe housing.

Yet despite the influx of new residents, the stretch along South Halsted near the Ramova is somewhat bleak. Starting as far back as seven years ago, the city government began tearing down buildings near the Ramova, erasing much of the block’s former grandeur.  Though new construction projects—like the block-long condo development on 35th street—replaced the old buildings, empty lots still dot the area, and city officials remain unsure about the future of any further development.

Alarmed by the city’s intervention, Sullivan was determined to prevent the Ramova’s demolition in order to protect Bridgeport’s cultural history. In 2005, Sullivan started a petition to fight for the theater’s survival, aiming to safeguard a building that holds so much cultural value for the city and sentimental value for many Bridgeport residents.

What began as a petition grew into a full-blown initiative to not only restore the Ramova but to turn it into a hub of Bridgeport culture. With approximately 4,000 signatures on the petition by both neighborhood residents and backers outside of Bridgeport, Sullivan had gathered enough support for her case to fight for the Ramova’s restoration and reopening.

“The trick was to just keep beating the drum,” Sullivan explains. “We kept pushing the possibility of saving the Ramova out in the open and more people started to remember their days at the theater and how crucial the Ramova was to the arts scene in Bridgeport.”

Sullivan stresses that the nostalgic pull of the space is central to the restoration effort: “The Ramova was the center of entertainment and a lot of childhood memories for people in Bridgeport, and residents bring that up all the time because those memories really matter to them. It was actually a key issue at the alderman debate last year, which goes to show how many people are willing to fight for the Ramova.”

Despite widespread public support for the Ramova’s restoration, obstacles began to appear and push back the project. The economic downturn in 2008 prevented Sullivan from obtaining the necessary resources for a restoration initiative—leaving the project in the planning stages, where dreams can grow and shrink, but nothing physical moves. Furthermore, the city expressed its wish for a private party or non-profit organization to direct the restoration, meaning that city officials and funds would have minimal involvement with the project.

In light of these difficulties, Sullivan redirected her efforts into creating a cohesive support base. This base is the Friends of South Halsted, a non-profit focused on the cultural and commercial renewal of not only the theater but the whole nearby stretch of South Halsted.

While the theater itself holds most of the personal significance that drew in the initial support from the Bridgeport community, outsiders slowly began to recognize the theater’s potential as a focal point for the neighborhood’s wider redevelopment. The power of this vision spurred the Illinois Institute of Technology (IIT) to get involved in 2010.

Robert Chaney, an undergraduate student at IIT, identified the Ramova as a fitting project for the institution’s Interprofessional Projects Program (IPRO). The Ramova’s restoration offered an excellent opportunity for business, architecture, and arts-oriented IPRO students to receive hands-on experience in their fields by contributing to Bridgeport’s cultural development. After approval from the program coordinators, Chaney and Sullivan teamed up. Students began creating floor plans and working to attract local businesses while Sullivan promoted the cause through “Save the Ramova” fundraisers.

Sullivan’s efforts finally motivated city administrators to contact restoration and theater operations specialist Ray Shepardson, best known for his refurbishment of the Loop’s glittering Chicago Theater.

“When I select which theaters to preserve, part of my criteria involves the theater’s historical importance to their surroundings and the local community’s initiative in getting it back on its feet,” Shepardson explained. “In the Ramova’s case, Maureen’s [built up] that energy already, so my job is to draw up plans that detail what changes to the theater itself will take place, and how it will become economically viable enough to help the community grow.”

Sullivan, Shepardson, and the students aim to develop a creative environment that captures Bridgeport’s past and returning vibrancy, with the Ramova as a symbol connecting the old with the new.

While the run-down theater undergoes renovations, they hope to likewise create an energetic commercial environment along South Halsted by persuading local business owners to set up shop near the Ramova. There’s a big hole to fill—The Ramova Grill, the 82-year-old chili parlor in one of the storefronts attached to the theater, recently announced it is closing on the 14th.

Between the renovation’s economic and cultural aspirations, the end goal is to persuade Chicagoans inside and outside Bridgeport to explore the neighborhood.

“While Bridgeport is still a tight-knit neighborhood, it’s not as close as it used to be when I was growing up because people are going out of the neighborhood for entertainment and shopping,” said Sullivan. “Part of our objective is to keep people in Bridgeport and show them that there is fun to be had in the neighborhood.”

She continued, “It’s very hard to build a neighborhood’s sense of community if the residents are constantly leaving for opportunities outside. So we’re trying to use home-grown economics to revive Bridgeport’s past history as a commercial, entertainment, and artistic hotbed.”

While the Ramova of years past was focused on the silver screen, the Ramova of the future will be a multi-purpose arts venue. The new theater will have its lobby transformed into an art gallery while the auditorium will be a music venue.

The team is ever closer to officially beginning the restoration project. Shepardson and a new cohort of IPRO students continue to draw up building plans, estimate the final costs, and sell the area’s commercial potential to local business-owners. Although prospects have taken a positive turn, Sullivan still organizes Save the Ramova fundraisers to gather even more public support. Her efforts are bearing fruit, as the Ramova’s restoration was one of the top three discussion priorities at a Cultural Plan for Chicago meeting this past week.

While official funding is still hard to come by and the restoration is still under preliminary planning, the team has high hopes that the Ramova marquee will soon glimmer.

Jane Fentress

Pleasant House Bakery was utterly charming. A chalk sign on the wall advertised pasties, royal pies, and “bangers and mash.” The entire kitchen, where two men were busy rolling dough and filling pies, was visible behind the counter. On a nearby table, a sprig of purple-blossomed chive rested in a small glass.

The British bakery, now in its third week of existence, specializes in sweets, homemade sodas, and royal pies. The name “royal pies” is a misnomer—these pies are peasant food in the best sense. Warm and simple, they’re meant to be comfort food, not haute cuisine. So my dining companion and I jumped right in, ordering a chicken balti pie, a steak and ale pie, homemade sodas, a chocolaty lace cookie, and a garden salad.

While we were waiting, the chefs were busy scooping a thick filling into prepared pie dough and pressing the crust on top. I asked the lady behind the counter if the owners are British; she said, “We are the owners!” and pointed to herself and the man filling pies. The two cooks, Art and Chelsea Jackson, are both American. But Pleasant House Bakery can lay claim to British roots—Art’s parents are from England.

The couple grows the restaurant’s veggies in a nearby urban garden. When the salad came out, Chelsea pointed out its many different leaves—spicy arugula, delicate lavender chive flowers, and pristine icicle radishes. The salad was exactly the sort of dish that someone would make from their own backyard plot: cut a few different leaves, pull up some radishes, toss it with oil and vinegar. It was a simple salad. That’s all it had to be.

We drank homemade ginger ale and tropical soda flavored with hibiscus tea. The ginger ale was fantastically fresh, with  the right amount of bite. The tropical soda’s sweetness, however, hid the fruit flavors. The accompanying lace cookie was wonderful: sweet, crisp, with just a thin smear of chocolate in the middle.
Next it was time to try the king and queen of the meal. First, the chicken balti pie, sprinkled with oniony Nigella seeds. My fork sank into the browned top and the smell of curried chicken and buttery crust wafted upward. It was tasty, but I had expected more heat. The accompanying coriander chutney helped: made with cilantro and jalapenos, it brought a welcome kick of fresh, herby flavor to the dish. If the color green had a taste, it would be that chutney.

After generously dipping the crust into the chutney, I sampled my friend’s steak and ale pie. The inside was like a hearty stew with chunks of beef and vegetables. But, like the tropical soda, it lacked a bit of flavor. Also, the crust was tough on both pies instead of light and flaky. My companion didn’t seem to mind the thickness of the crust and praised its “girth.”

Both pies were satisfying, if not spectacular. It would have been the prudent time to take a break, but the mushroom and kale pies had just come out of the oven. We had to order another pie, and also a boozy biscuit trifle for good measure.

Some kind of alchemy made the vegetarian pie, stuffed with mushrooms and kale in a creamy Parmesan sauce, just as filling as the meat pies. In the delectable trifle, delicate pink syrup from tart rhubarb bled into white layers of sweet whipped cream; next was a layer of thick, fresh vanilla custard. On the bottom, brandy-soaked scones added some devilish boozy depth to the otherwise pure and innocent dessert. That dark edge in the trifle might have been the boldest of the flavors in the restaurant’s offerings. Yet the bakery’s charm is in its simplicity: every dish felt comforting and wholesomely homemade.

964 W 31st St. Tuesday-Thursday, 11 am – 9 pm; Friday and Saturday, 11 am – 11 pm; Sunday, 12 – 8 pm. (773)523-7437. pleasanthousebakery.com

The recently revamped bar and liquor store is currently featuring five cocktails inspired by five mayoral candidates. A press release from the bar explains: “Each signature cocktail has been carefully concocted by Maria’s expert mixologists and political insiders to reflect the essence of the individual candidates; their manner, background, temperament and qualifications.” One drink, one vote.

Although the results of the election will remain secret until Election Day, CW has learned from a source that there is a tight race at the bar between the classic “Rahm and Coke”, and Miguel Del Valle’s “Sticker Shock” – a combination of red rum, simple syrup, cranberry, and lime juice named in recognition of the high vehicle license fees during Del Valle’s tenure as City Clerk of Chicago. Our endorsement goes to the third in the line-up, “The Ambassador”, mixed in honor of Carol Moseley Braun. Along with cream soda and a lemon wedge, this delicious candidate features Absolut vodka infused with black tea from Ambassador Organics, a branch of Braun’s company Good Food Organics. Gery Chico’s working class roots were the inspiration for the only non-mixed drink competing in the field; “Chico & Da Mayor” features a shot of Jim Beam and a can of Modelo. The fifth candidate is a friend to the bar: Cynthia “Plaster Caster” Albritton became iconic as a rock & roll groupie when she cast Jimi Hendrix’s penis in a plaster mold after his appearance at the Auditorium Theater. Albritton is running an apparently satirical campaign (her website emphasizes that she is “hard on crime”), but her cocktail, “The Screw Driver,” is a serious classic.

Since a Bridgeport native has been mayor for all but 13 of the last 78 years, the bar has machine politics in mind. Says the press release, “Using Chicago’s long history of loose voting ethics as a template… every drinker/voter at Maria’s is free to buy as many votes as they like or can possibly handle.” While maybe not the best model for choosing a mayor, Maria’s fluid approach to voting is a good way to whet your political appetite. Cheers.

It’s Third Fridays in Bridgeport, and on this night every month, the underground arts scene comes out to play.

Modeled after Second Fridays in Pilsen, Third Fridays is part of a larger trend to revive struggling arts communities. The economic downturn has hit art districts hard, and staying relevant has proven to be an even more demanding task than staying afloat. To bring in new viewers—and potential buyers—art district commissions and gallery owners have taken to organizing monthly gallery crawls. Free drinks and refreshments are offered as bait, but the real draw is the opportunity to mingle with art enthusiasts of all different stripes and wallet sizes.

Martin Bernstein, a jeweler and mixed-media artist who rents gallery and studio space in the Zhou B Center, says he values the face-time Third Fridays allows him with people interested in art. “[At most normal gallery events,] I can show people my work on white walls, but as an artist, you like to immerse yourself in the work. [On Third Fridays] I’m able to show people the process I’m going through, and they can see for themselves how the thoughts evolve and how the works themselves take shape.” Bernstein likens Third Fridays to a craft bazaar, where the very personal, “visceral experience” of art becomes a social encounter. “When people come to events like this…it is like an arts fair. It’s like channel surfing—you can go from one room to the next, one piece to the next. And my works unfold into one another, and [the energy of the night] feeds us. And…of course, if that could lead to sales down the road, that would be wonderful.”

It remains to be seen whether these events actually pay off for the artists, galleries, and communities that invest in them. The concrete results of buzz-generating events like Third Fridays are difficult to measure; hard numbers don’t exist, and success is judged by vibe alone. According to Robin Rios, an artist and director of the 4Art gallery in the Center, “Nine times out of ten, people coming for Third Fridays don’t buy art [that day]…With the economy, it’s tough.” However, she adds, “We’re artists. For us, it’s always this kind of economy. We’re used to it.”

Though the value of the gallery crawl may not be directly quantifiable, Third Fridays has a ripple effect that artists are confident will generate revenue down the line. According to Zulema Covarrubias, the office manager of the Center, the monthly event creates interest in the art, which eventually brings in customers. “There’s just a buzz around the city about us,” she says. “We have a lot of people who come in and buy art, for sure. That’s why we have a full house [of artists], and so many people want to rent studios here. They know we get a lot of traffic.” Noyes, the artist who created the finger condom piece, is a case in point. Working out of a studio on the third floor since January of this year, Noyes says she moved to the Center specifically because of Third Fridays. “The exposure this brings is great.” But she admits, “It’s hard to say if I’ve [gotten customers from the event], since I haven’t sold a piece since January.”

Ultimately, though, immediate financial gratification isn’t as important as the artists’ desire to get their name and work out into the open. Asked why she bothers with Third Fridays when it hasn’t brought in any new buyers, Noyes shrugs cheerfully, “Whenever I put my art out there, something comes back. It’s an energy thing.” Bernstein agrees. “It’s important to get feedback and a response [from your audience],” he says, “it’s a conversation…You make art to show it.”

Bridgeport’s Schaller’s Pump (3714 S. Halsted) strikes a balance, with a $1 entry fee but questions cooked up behind the bar. The problem is that it’s a once-a-month event, on the third Tuesday (of course) at 7pm. And Buffalo Wings and Rings (3434 S. Halsted) has computerized trivia, but—much like the beer—why go for that when you can have the real thing?

(Mehves Konuk)

“So, do you meditate?” He is surrounded by semi-filled bottles of different colored oils and powders labeled with names like Love, Dragon’s Blood, and Peace.

“Is there any particular type of Buddhism you’re interested in?” His subject mentions a few names, and they are greeted with hearty recognition by Reverend Stitch. Candles ($19.95 each), a couple of books, a package of incense ($5.95), and some bath salts lie between the two individuals. Reverend Stitch is trying to explain to his customer how she can empower herself to feel better.

“I’m going to tell you the truth. I’m trying to not feed into the negativity,” he says. The friend that brought her to Augustine’s, as it is affectionately referred to by its staff and customers, practices Hoodoo herself. An African-American system of folk magic with European and Native American influences, Hoodoo is just one of the many kinds of spiritual systems supported by the supplies available at Augustine’s. Reverend Stitch explains that many of the people who come to Augustine’s already follow practices such as Buddhism, Herbalism, Santería, and Mexican magick, but most come for help with a loving attitude.

Although one can find the Reverend Stitch behind the counter most days, Augustine’s is really the work of Reverend Carolyn (both reverends are non-denominational). Reverend Stitch describes her as “a down-to-earth lady with four children who is quite spiritually brilliant.” She also practices Hoodoo, and has owned Augustine’s for about seven years, although it was open before that under different management. Reverend Carolyn agrees with Reverend Stitch about the mission of the store. “It’s a place of empowerment, and that’s what we teach—we want to help people to get in touch with their inner power, to get in touch with their truth. We seem to attract people who are ready to grow, and that’s the community we draw from,” she explains. Reverend Carolyn accounts for the path of the store by saying that she stocks it according to her customers’ wants and needs. “When I want something, I tell my Oversoul God-mind what I need and it usually walks through the door.”

Felicitously, this method has been pretty successful so far. Augustine’s stocks a wide variety of goods, and their customer service is meticulous and focused. They even offer classes, with titles as intriguing as Basic Crystals and Candle Reading, and Northern European Shamanism. Assuredly, many would greet the staff and customers of Augustine’s with a cocked eyebrow and a doubtful expression. But whether one subscribes to the beliefs touted by the shop or not, the attempt offered by the staff to help their customers is genuine. Though Reverend Stitch admits that you could use the oils sold at Augustine’s as perfume or to scent your house, he says, “The joke is that we really are a serious store and deal with serious stuff. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun!”

“I make sound effects to make it all more mystical,” he clarifies while raking his customer’s palms—a process he hopes will help change her negative energy.

All jokes aside, Reverend Carolyn makes it clear that Augustine’s is not about hokey nonsense. “Augustine’s is different [from other spiritual goods stores] because we base our teachings on truth. We don’t tell people what to do—we want them to talk to their Oversoul God-mind. It’s about getting power from and control over your own mind.” Reverend Stitch adds to this statement with his own round-up of the store’s strong points: “We’re a great mix of hands-on folk magic and things that work. We’re really honest, our grasp of humanity is wiser [than many New Age stores], and we’re pretty down-to-earth.”
Upcoming Classes: Talking to the Spirit, Basic Mediumship; Introduction to Tarot part I, Major Arcana; Basic Crystals and Candle Reading part I; Healing with the Chakras; Northern European Shamanism.
Augustine’s Authentic Spritual Goods, 3327 S. Halsted St. Monday-Thursday 11-7pm; Friday-Saturday, 11am-6pm; Sunday, noon-4pm. authenticspiritualgoods.com

The two hundred paintings, drawings, photographs, and videos that comprise “Dialogue” are the culmination of a year of communication and collaboration between twenty artists from Iran and the United States. The exhibition was initiated and coordinated by Iranian artist Morehshin Allahyari, who came to the United States after completing a B.A. in Communications and Media Studies in Tehran. As an art student at Denver University she devoted herself to clarifying common misconceptions about her home country. After she gave a talk on Tehran’s underground art scene in 2008, students from the Denver artist cooperative Kinda Collective (now called Creative Pockets) approached her about “the possibility of working around the concept of underground art in Iran to confront the misconceptions between our cultures,” according to the exhibition’s website. Soon after, the IRUS (Iran-United States) Intercultural Collaborative Art Project was founded in order to create dialogue through collaboratively produced works of art.

“It is so weird that anytime the name of Iran comes up, many people in America think political not cultural,” Allahyari wrote on the IRUS project blog. “I started IRUS project because I was frustrated with the one-sided, dark image of Iran that American media continues to promote. I wanted to break down the cultural barriers and help to give a more balanced view to Iran.”

In the spring of 2008, Allahyari assembled a team of ten American artists, musicians, and performers, and contracted illustrator Negin Ethesabian, a friend from her studies in Tehran, to head the Iranian team. Thus began the year-long collaboration. Each artist started a work of art and then shipped it to a co-artist in the other country for completion. The exhibit debuted in Denver at the end of March 2009.

While the internet allowed for easy communication between the two teams to coordinate and plan the pieces, physically transporting them was difficult. Because no mail service exists between the U.S. and Iran, works had to be shipped via Istanbul. Allahyari relied on friends and relatives living in Iran to move works across borders, and artists in Iran had to deal with customs scrutiny and avoid attracting attention from Iranian authorities.

Although “Dialogue” seeks to unseat stereotypes, the works that comprise the collection skirt issues of religion and politics, focusing instead on cultural similarities. Andrew Blanton worked with M. Moin Samadi to create a sound sculpture blending Persian and American folk music and poetry, and Richard Burges worked with Vana Nabipour and Shabnam Khoshdel to create a pop-up book illustrating the games and social activities that are popular in each country. In addition to pair-works addressing a variety of cultural themes, the exhibit includes a wall with visual comparisons of Scheherazade and Mark Twain. Early in the project, the Iranian team suggested producing works in response to Scheherazade because the story is a “symbol of peaceful dialogue in Persian culture,” Allahyari said in an email. The American team came up with Mark Twain as the American voice of peace and dialogue.

The works in “Dialogue” also testify to differences in the meaning and practice of art in each country. “In the process of the collaboration, I think Iranian artists were more collectivist and the American artist were more individualist,” says Allahyari, adding that “most of the artworks of the Iranian artists are very symbolic, and that’s not necessarily the case in the West. Artists in Iran are much more limited to express themselves.” But if Iranian artists are more restricted in what they can convey, citizens in both countries are limited in what they can see, hear, feel, and understand about the world. “Dialogue” is a step towards loosening those limits.
Co-Prosperity Sphere, 3219-21 S. Morgan St. January 29-February 4. Opening reception Friday, January 29, 7-10pm. Discussion panel Saturday, January 30, 5-7pm. irusart.org

The program for the day included five galleries in Pilsen and Bridgeport: the Chicago Art Department, Ben Russell, Pentagon Gallery, Co-Prosperity Sphere, and Second Bedroom Project Space. Along with two traditional gallery spaces, bereft of signs of private, domestic lives, the tour included exhibition spaces located in artists’ bathrooms and living rooms. Glimpsing potted plants, spice racks, and collectable figurines personalized the experience of viewing art and revealed the convergence of two seemingly opposing worlds: home and work.

Ben Russell, co-curator, owner, and exhibiting artist at the Ben Russell space, consciously highlighted this aspect of his exhibition space. In each room, the visitor experiences the confusing duality of home and work. A museum bench sits in the middle of the photography/drawing room, yet glass doors reveal a kitchen. The “sculpture garden” is filled with brown leaves and old furniture, decayed from rain, next to a series of metal statues. Ben Russell explicitly omits the word “gallery” from the space’s name, thus obscuring its purpose and his relationship to the space. Is he the artist, curator, or owner? In this case, all three.

Second Bedroom Project Space, located in a small apartment, provides two exhibit spaces: one, an empty room just off of the sparsely furnished living room; the other, a medicine cabinet, located in the apartment’s only bathroom. The stipulation that all works in the bathroom incorporate the Medicine Cabinet perfectly embodies the same confusion of the creative process, home-life, and exhibition that marked the Ben Russell space. On display in the second bedroom is a collection of “objects left behind,” remnants of past shows and openings. Standing there in a home full of fragments, it was a refreshing reminder that art does not exist inside a bubble, but is in constant communication with both the personal and the public.

Iconography students begin by following the steps of iconographers of the past. “We are basically following traditions, and as with any artist, when you start, you copy a master,” says de Shazer. Her students begin by copying and tracing traditional icons of the saints, and are prepared to devote a long time to this laborious, yet potentially rewarding process: according to de Shazer, completing “an icon of the Archangel Michael will take 36 to 40 hours.”

In continuing this ancient religious tradition, de Shazer utilizes techniques that are “centuries and centuries old.” She paints with egg tempera, which was the primary medium of painting before oil paints were popularized in the fifteenth century. De Shazer’s icons are created in the fashion of early iconographers: an egg yolk emulsion is colored with different natural pigments made from organic material and minerals. The resulting paint is applied in alternating layers, creating a unique effect. While enthusiasts of art and/or history may be interested in this process, participants should be aware that de Shazer’s instruction addresses a significant and living historical tradition in the Orthodox faith, and demands a fair degree of devotion and respect.

St. Mary of Perpetual Help Church, 1039 W. 32nd St. February 12-14, March 12-14, April 9-11, continuing on the 2nd weekend of every month. Friday, 6-9pm; Saturday, 8am-5pm; Sunday, 8am-12pm. $10/hour, all materials included except for gesso board. (773)927-6646. stmaryofperpetualhelp.com