The event in question was the launch of the SMALL Showroom, a pop-up exhibition designed to promote awareness of a range of local Bridgeport-area artisans and products. Over a hundred companies and individuals were represented through SMALL (Small Manufacturing Alliance), which, according to their website, promotes Chicagoland “companies and individuals who make locally manufactured products.” Items on display ranged in size from a massive, $500 didgeridoo nicknamed “the Elephant Tusk” and hand-carved from an agave stalk, to one-inch cubes of Asiago cheese selected from Giles Schnierle’s Great American Cheese Collection. Among these offerings were free tastings from 18th Street Brewery, Koval Distillery, Bridgeport Coffee, and Katherine Anne, the “founder and confectionista” of Katherine Anne Confections. Non-culinary products included custom-designed bikes, graphic tees, beaded animals, and tables carved into the shape of various American states (the company offered to do any state in the union other than Hawaii, Florida, and Maryland). The space also served as a bulletin board for myriad advertisements for demonstrations and exhibitions, all of which seemed to be occurring concurrently with the showroom proper.

The sprawl of the showroom led to certain limitations on space as well as time for those organizing the show. My conversation with Ed Marszewski, co-director of the Co-Prosperity Sphere, was held in a cramped space between the falafel table and the main display window, leading some passersby to wonder whether or not we were part of some sort of SMALL-sponsored performance piece. Despite, or perhaps due to, the hustle and large number of guests, Marszewski was still very excited. “It’s great that I can bring together all these people—many of them friends who live within a block of this space—and be able to promote them like this.” He also noted, however, that the preparation has been hectic. “I’ve been meeting with hundreds of people every day. I’ve barely been able to learn everyone’s name.”

Herein lies the essential dilemma for the SMALL Showroom: if it is to represent an intimate community of businesses and artists in Bridgeport, how will it adapt as Bridgeport grows into its own as “the community of the future”—as one local publication optimistically christened the neighborhood—where more and more artists and manufacturers are moving everyday? How long, one wonders, will SMALL be able to remain small?

The audience ranged from zany to utterly nondescript. A woman wearing a short leather jacket and stockings patterned with silhouetted houses sat in front of me, while another wearing a beige trench coat and an unassuming dress sat next to me. The room’s thick white walls were blank with the exception of a single panel, where “Fresh Flesh” was spray-painted in a galactic mix of purples, greens, and copper-speckled white. Ed Marszewski, one of the directors of the Co-Prosperity sphere, donned his thick-framed glasses before launching into the plans for the night.

“This is going to be an informal gathering” he explained. “We are going to come up with actionable plans, we’re going to have constructive and generative thought about the cultural plan of Chicago. So, to do that,  you’ll come up and speak for 5  minutes…”

This year, the City of Chicago’s Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events (DCASE) is working on the “2012 Chicago Cultural Plan,” which proposes to first figure out Chicago’s cultural identity and then shape it moving forward. This plan aims to provoke conversation between local artists, community members and anybody aspiring to add to the discussion of Chicago’s cultural identity. In these conversations, participants are invited to put forward ideas and proposals to further the impact of the Chicago arts community. Its aim is to establish an encompassing plan to ameliorate the problems artists face in Chicago through the collaborative partnerships formed in the private and public sectors.

The night began with Marszewski pointing at people to start the conversation. His finger first fell on a stylish advertising agent dressed in red lipstick and high-piled  hair. She stepped forward and spoke about consulting services for artists wanting to spread their image. Marsewski continued to direct the relaxed procession around the room until he abruptly left unexplained—possibly for a bathroom break? However, the floor had already been cleared for passionate debate about reforming the cultural identity of Chicago, and the intensity of the conversation compelled volunteers to step up.

Some of the brainstorming included a proposal for cultural ambassadors, who would be the link between the neighborhoods and the city. These ambassadors would be artists deeply embedded in their neighborhood who could identify problems artists faced and understand the interests and needs of the neighborhood; people who could represent them forcefully, accurately, and passionately about the decline of art production. Many speakers mentioned different systems and programs in other states and in other countries that worked efficiently and effectively to spur artistic creation by providing struggling artists with resources like living and showcase spaces, and materials for creation.

One of the most striking suggestions of the evening, perhaps because it was the only Powerpoint presentation, was the establishment of a space to be called the New Museum. This venue would address the problem that independent artists face today of securing legal spaces to showcase their artwork. Currently, they hold “illegal” private apartment parties out of necessity, always faced with the pressure from the police to shut them down. The New Museum would centralize independent artists in a legal space and integrate artists scattered across the city to increase visibility for emerging artists.

Marszewski, halfway through the presentation, came to a poignant realization: “You know, I’ve been thinking. Let’s face it—the city isn’t going to meet all of our demands. What we need to do is [take this] into our own hands. We need to connect with artists and change Chicago together.”

These community meetings aren’t just a way to communicate to the City of Chicago artists’ needs; they enable networks to form that enrich conversation between artists and about art in Chicago. Theirs is a diverse union, held together by the passion to create, to explore and to challenge; and for future Chicago cultural growth, it is vital to use that common artistic spirit as a means of reinforcing the weakening bonds of art within the city.

(Lily Ye)

The third annual “Typeforce” opening at Bridgeport’s Co-Prosperity Sphere is bustling. More than 500 people are expected to attend tonight. The crowd is a mix of fashionably-dressed twenty-somethings and an older set dressed more suitably for the weather. They are all here to see one thing: letters.

A noticeable energy pervades the room, but no one’s debating Arial vs. Helvetica here. The art consists of a wide variety of pieces—from neon lights performing variations on the letter X to a collection of shrub-like letterforms growing in individual jars—united by their focus on typography. Music pulses through the gallery, and the artwork itself, installed throughout the space as well as on the walls, seems to mingle with the crowd.

In a small alcove, letterforms made of Sculpey clay by a group of first-graders sit on tables, while posters hanging nearby show photographs of these letters spelling out sentences like, “I like black because it goes with everything. Yellow is just for yellow. Red is for lava.” The posters were compiled by Rick Valicenti, an internationally renowned designer who started out in Chicago. Valicenti wanted to be a part of the “Typeforce” exhibit last year but was told that the exhibit was to showcase emerging artists. This year he came back with a piece featuring elementary school children just starting to learn about letterforms—the work of truly emergent typographers.

In the crowd, Co-Prosperity Sphere owner and co-curator of “Typeforce” Ed Marszewski wears black-rimmed glasses and a black blazer. He types on his iPhone with two thumbs, a beer bottle in the crook of his arm. He says of the exhibition’s theme, “These are the building blocks for communication. As a theme, [type] is more universal, and you can have more flexibility using these parameters. You can tell people are playful with it.” He points to a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. on the wall—“Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” The letters, constructed purely of dead bees, send “a subliminal message about climate change,” he says.

Another collection by Jennie Li displays the text of various tweets rendered by hand in stylized fonts each enclosed in a small red painted wood picture frame. An example was the tweet, “Happy Valentine’s Day! hope You All get pregnant” drawn in a swooping ribbon-like script in the shape of heart. At first this collection appears too easy, too cute. However, after taking a moment more to admire the ink on paper, it stimulates a realization that within the interface of Twitter, every tweet must appear in the same trappings. Here, the red frames are akin to curtains opening on miniature performances of the text.

The second co-curator of the exhibit, Dawn Hancock, calls attention to a periodic table of elements that takes up the entire face of a freestanding wall. “It’s insane, purely insane,” she says. Each white card features an elemental symbol printed out in a bold black font, a circle representing the electron shells pressed into the card itself, and valence electrons in bright blue, red, and green screen-printed onto the ring. The piece is an impressive feat of coordination across three different forms of printing, highlighting the care with which they were laid out in an impossibly perfect grid.

An older man, nearly bald with glasses and a red-veined nose, approaches Hancock and asks if she is the artist. Hancock tells him that she is the co-curator and promises to connect him with the artist if she spots her. This welcoming and helpful attitude is not out of the ordinary at the Co-Prosperity Sphere.

Hancock says the exhibit provides an opportunity “to show off design and typography that doesn’t exist in this city.” She continues, “We thought if we started doing that people would stop feeling like they had to move and instead stay here and be part of this community.” “Typeforce” has not only created this community, but has grown its members: submissions have doubled from 50 last year to 100 this year. Marszewski—well acquainted with many guests—greets them enthusiastically by name as they enter. He says, “It’s a good way to get all these people who are normally locked away at their computers and in their studios in one place for an evening and see each other’s stuff.”

Co-Prosperity Sphere, 3219 S. Morgan St. Through April 13. Hours by appointment. Free. (773)837-0145. coprosperity.org

Amanya Maloba

The kids wore loose beanies, boots, and the occasional snapback—the expected skateboarder uniform. But gathered together Saturday night at the Co-Prosperity Sphere, the skaters’ boards were up on the walls rather than under their feet. Throughout the gallery, skateboard decks hung next to brightly colored photographs and paintings as part of “Can’t Grow Up,” a one-night-only exhibit curated by 18-year-old SAIC freshman Luke Pelletier.

Pelletier first became interested in art freshman year of high school when he and some friends “spray painted a bunch of dicks on the high school and got expelled.” At the alternative school he attended for the rest of his high school career, Pelletier honed his artistic skills drawing portraits of drug addicts, pregnant teenagers, and pimply adolescents.

One featured artist, Bryan Peterson, darted quickly in and out of the crowd, recording the faces of attendees with his handheld camera. Up on the wall, Peterson’s blazingly bright skateboards were displayed. Reflective of his energetic and seemingly rebellious nature, the boards read “Fuck The Police” and “Toe up from da flo-up”.

Only Jourdon Gullett’s three portraits interrupted the bright colors on the walls. Two of the three pieces were crafted of gold and black ink on Masonite: one showing a girl holding a goat, and the other a young man sitting next to a fire hydrant, pigeons perching on his body. That particular piece is one-quarter of a series, which Gullett describes as being “super Chicago.” Gullett draws inspiration from ’90s skateboard culture and his everyday life as a teacher for After School Matters, a non-profit organization that allows Chicago youth to participate in out-of-school arts, science, athletic and tech programs.

Saturday night, Pelletier was dressed in a plaid shirt and stood next to his mother as he talked to passersby. The North Carolina native spoke softly but confidently, explaining his motivation for putting on the art show: “I’ve always been into skateboarding and art, so it just felt really natural to do the exhibit.”  With “Can’t Grow Up” Pelletier’s ambition was simple: “I just want people to have fun,” he said. “It’s like skateboarding, you know? Just really fun.”

courtesy of Watie White

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When Watie White draws his subjects, he tells their story through his eyes. He renders the faces of friends and strangers as enormous black and white woodcuts. Included in the “Survey” collection on display at the Co-Prosperity Sphere are portraits of everyday people: a bespectacled meter reader, a comedian, and a curious pedestrian. Over each linocut face are words that have been taken verbatim from White’s conversation with the subject. Through the overlaid text, the subjects tell their stories.

White paints their portraits in a dramatic, pop-inspired style that looks like a riff on pulp novel covers. Waite’s portraits show an eloquent side of his subjects: a grizzled and bearded man, whose eyes squint at the viewer through complexly wrinkled folds, reminds us that we best “not be wasting any time.” No matter the style or color scheme he uses—poppy or stark black and white—White succeeds in his goal of “portraying someone’s presence more thoroughly than using likeness.”

“Most of my work is research that leaves physical evidence,” White says. White feels a strong affinity to the storytelling tradition of Chicago writers such as Terkel and Royko. He goes further to the point of incorporating confessional speech into his work. He presents two sets of pulp novel covers, one set overlaid with the uninhibited words of his models and the other with words from his private journals. In some sense, the questions behind his new exhibit find their origins in their interest in everyday narratives and private speech. Is everyone actually interesting and worth investigating? Through his art, White answers a firm yes to this question. “There’s common ground with everyone,” he says—even if that common ground is the shared experience of being an outsider.

That experience is something White knows a lot about as a Chicago artist transplanted to Omaha. He lived in this broad-shouldered city for a decade before following his wife to Omaha. A Chicago émigré, White is comfortable being an outsider, he says, and can ably navigate its neighborhoods and speak its language. His portraits, which allow the subjects to tell their stories, are his way of speaking the language of the city. Following this pattern of drift, White’s work will be traveling around Chicago over the next year, taking up residence at the Hyde Park Art Center, DePaul University, and the Southside Hub of Production.

White’s conviction in the power of art to impact the people he knows and the people of his neighborhood is evident in his new work in Omaha, but has its roots in his Chicago years. While living in Rogers Park, White enjoyed working outside, drawing inspiration from what he saw around him. He would often draw areas that he knew were gang hotspots, since it seemed to him that engaging with the rough sides of the city helped dispel some of the danger. It was in Chicago that White learned about reclaiming public space through art, a thread that carries over to his enormous linocuts. White explains that working on such a scale allows him to think “architecturally.” He uses his art to not only represent city life, but to make his mark on it, sponsoring a mural project in Omaha’s most troubled neighborhoods and working with arts programs for high-school dropouts and other underserved groups. White shows how important his public projects and work with youth are to him by devoting a section of the gallery to recreating part of his Omaha studio. While his belief in the potential of art could seem rose-tinted, White says, “I don’t think of myself as a Pollyanna-ish kind of guy.” If the work in this striking collection is any indication, we can believe him when he says, “to be the subject (and active collaborator) of ‘ART’ is often transformative.”

Sasha Tycko

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Clad in sequined jackets, thick-framed glasses, animal prints, and the like, Chicago’s hippest 20-somethings came out for a night of art and beer at the Octagon Gallery’s latest show last Friday. Housed at the Co-Prosperity Sphere in Bridgeport, the venue offered an ideal scene for people-watching, which was fitting (and a bit ironic) for the closing reception of “Society of the Spectacular.” The exhibit takes its name from Guy Debord’s 1967 “Society of the Spectacle,” a Marxist meditation on society’s obsession with illusions. His definition of the spectacle as “not a collection of images,” but “a social relation between people that is mediated by images” was an appropriate theme for the night.

The lively show overwhelmed the small space. Vibrant canvases, television sets, and a video game competed for viewers’ attention. The overload of images and sounds underscored the idea that we live in an overblown, spectacular society. Works made by over nine artists were on display, all of which confronted the tensions of living in a digital world and its effect on our perception of reality. Throughout the night videos playing loud rock music were projected onto the far wall. From 7-9pm, two artists played music from turntable.fm and various Internet DJs, followed by a live broadcast of local band American Draft playing from an Andersonville studio. For the final hours of the event, the band Volcano took the stage in front of a webcam that was hooked up to Chatroulette. The digital element of the music was a consistent motif throughout the exhibit.

“I tried to choose artwork that had a skeptical and curious take on our digitally mediated experiences,” said Octagon Gallery curator Jake Myers.

Myers noted that the exhibit wasn’t meant to be a condemnation of today’s society: “Instead of simply pathologizing these digital trends,” he said, “I just wanted people to step back and think about them in a different light.” In one piece, entitled “Mashup,” Doug Smithenry painted still frames of YouTube videos in which individuals came out of the closet. In his work, the Internet is seen taking on a supportive and protective role, qualities not often attributed to the World Wide Web.

Humor played a role in many of the other works. Eric Fleischauer’s digitally altered photograph “Universal Paramount” replaced Los Angeles’s famed “HOLLYWOOD” sign with the word “YOUTUBE.” Several other artists contributed irreverent MS Paint printouts, one simply of a cat saying “Meow.”

Despite the heavy message of Debord’s book, the light mood suggested that the show intended to disorient rather than attack, illuminate rather than disapprove. It encouraged people to be skeptics of society, not cynics.

One of the highlights of the show was “Marco Solo,” an interactive piece commissioned for the show that rendered a startling intersection between digital and analog life. Created by Aaron Orsini and Adam Rux, two wicker basket-turned headpieces were worn by gallerygoers. Inside these odd helmets the wearers stared at an iPad, which streamed a live feed of their surroundings. Literally forced to experience life through a screen, people stumbled around the space, groping at their friends as they tried to orient themselves.

“You put on the helmets and immediately when you’re with another person the first impulse is to look them in the face and try to touch their hand,” said Rux. “In the digital sphere you don’t have that, you don’t have an obvious person to grab hold of.”

The artists began by putting the iPads inside empty PBR boxes and staggering around Orsini’s apartment. They eventually settled on the wicker baskets because, as they explained, an artisanal craft like basket-weaving was one of the most analog tasks they could think of. The idea of a tangible product is nonexistent in a digital world. By producing something physical, they attempted to resolve the gap between virtual reality and our physical lives. “It’s almost like an homage to real life,” Orsini said. Their work uncovered the inhuman aspect of a society consumed with digital spectacle. “After we spent so much time in these helmets,” Orsini continued, “We were like, I hate digital. I hate it all. I just want to be able to look you in the eye, talk to you straightforward, and touch your hand.”

The exhibition is structured as a narrative beginning in the year 2040. A bright-orange Jeep sits on a lifeless beach, goat carcasses lie in a crevice, and our toxic world is seen through the window of a futuristic rover. From there, the show moves backward in time, finally returning to 2010, where nearly colorless images of the future are replaced by scenes of green plants and smiling faces. It’s a surprising conclusion to an otherwise bleak series of photographs, and by ordering the images this way—moving from dreariness to happiness—the series leaves viewers with a powerful appreciation of the present, and a dose of pessimism about the future.

The creator of this dystopian vision is a bubbly, gregarious woman. An associate professor of photography at Columbia College, Natal is dedicated to art and education, particularly the role both fields can play in fostering ecological awareness. A section of “Future Perfect” is devoted to photographs she took of children’s planet and alien paintings, which were created in an “Imagining the Future” workshop held at the Biosphere 2 facility near Tucson. Natal has served as an artist-in-residence at the artificial ecosystem facility since 2008, and her experiences clearly inform the content of “Future Perfect.”

Among the most striking pieces of the exhibition are Natal’s “steam portraits,” which show people partially obscured on rocky landscapes. One image, dated as 2030, depicts a man walking his dog through a dense fog. In another, a scared woman clutches a teddy bear in the year 2020. Back in the present, a girl smiles and a couple shares a kiss. Other images juxtapose signs of humanity with nature: a cactus is padded and turned into a telephone pole, while an outdated computer sits in the middle of a greenhouse.

While Natal seems to juxtapose the man-made and the natural, she is adamant that there shouldn’t be a distinction between the two. To properly move forward, she proposes, we should be cognizant of our inextricable relationship with the earth.

Courtesy of the Hornswaggler Collection

Rarely does Skittle-infused vodka lead to good choices. But for Graham Hogan and Joseph Rynkiewicz, the candy cocktail led to an innovative new venture in Chicago art commerce. One night two years ago, Hogan explained, he, Rynkiewicz and a group of friends decided to flavor their vodka with Skittle candies. Ed Marszewski, the director of the Co-Prosperity Sphere, liked the concoction so much that he asked them to serve it at his gallery. “We were like, all right, we can do that,” Hogan said.

Suffice it to say, Skittle vodka only lasted two shows before the duo realized they could take any middle-of-the-road liquor and infuse it with various herbs to craft unique and appealing alcoholic potions. And so began the Hornswaggler bar—an entirely mobile cocktail bar serving up craft drinks at Chicago art exhibitions. As Hogan and Rynkiewicz began to turn a profit from their drinks, they entered what, for them, was a new part of the art world: art buying.

Unlike collectors of yore, these two are no cognac-swigging, cravat-wearing John D. Rockefellers or Greek shipping magnates. Hogan works for a doll manufacturer and Rynkiewicz is a freelance photographer and art handler. “That was our first purchase,” Rynkiewicz said, gesturing to an image of a disgruntled-looking Persian cat with daisy eyelashes.

The Hornswaggler Collection made its public debut last Friday night, in the place where it all began—Bridgeport’s Co-Prosperity Sphere. For each event, the couple crafts a new menu of $4 cocktails. Friday night’s list featured four cocktails of various herbal infusions (think lavender and Tarragon vodka) with autumnal additives, like maple syrup and apple cider. A tipsy symbiosis evolves: “You want the drinks; we want the art,” Rynkiewicz said with a smile.

The initial impression given by the exhibit was unsettling; conspicuously naked walls surrounded hordes of cocktail-armed visitors that swarmed around tables of hors d’oeuvres. However, when visitors stepped behind the partitioned room, a single wall presented a visual smorgasbord of artwork.  “All of our efforts have funneled into that wall back there,” Hogan said looking towards the cocktail bar.

The collection includes work by over three dozen Chicago artists, including Stephen Eichorn, Kristen Taylor, and Juan Angel Chavez. The single wall held a seemingly hodgepodge collection, but it was cohesive in its clever subject matter. A framed black splat with neon typeface demands, “Have you made plans for the future?” A solitary wooden potato sits on an outcropping.

“Visually, there really is no cohesiveness; our collection marries a lot of different styles,” Rynkiewicz said, arms folded, scanning the wall of acrylic fruit loops, doodles, and wooden wig-like cutouts. “It’s a time capsule, a glimpse of what’s happening in Chicago art at a certain moment. It’s not about a curatorial vision—it’s meant to be seen together.”

The latest manifestation of the Hornswaggler collection is a public art-lending library. As the collection expanded, the couple realized they had a surfeit of good art on their hands. They came to an epiphany—rather than let art collect dust in storage, they could share it with the community.

The library allows art to live in the homes of aficionados essentially free of charge. Borrowers can keep a piece for three to six months, after paying a refundable security deposit and a small fee for handling and installation.

This program has deep implications—the stuffy Sotheby’s attitude of art patronage is replaced by a vibrant, dynamic collection that is supported and shared by the community. “It’s a much more charming way of doing things,” Hogan noted.

But one question remained unanswered at Friday’s reveal: what is a Hornswaggler, anyway? “It’s a breed of Oompa-Loompa, actually,” Rynkiewicz explained. “It also means ‘to pull wool over your eyes,’ which is in a sense what we are doing—getting you drunk to help us buy art.”

Learn more about the Hornswaggler Collection at www.hornswagglerarts.org

Maggie Sivit

Bridgeport is one of Chicago’s “up-and-coming” neighborhoods. New foodie havens, a booming arts scene, and hopping nightlife beckon twenty-somethings and art types from across the city. While it is certifiably hip, Bridgeport feels strangely isolated from its surrounding communities in terms of geography and character, which gives it a quirky, organic hometown vibe.

Halsted Street, historically Bridgeport’s main drag, is lined with family businesses. One restaurant is cluttered with what looks like the merchandise from a resale shop; down the street, a New Agey specialty store sells love potions. While each shop has its own niche, their respective owners are not afraid to talk up neighboring establishments: listen and you can hear customers and staff chatting about a local bike shop, or spreading word that Godzilla has made a special appearance at a nearby toy store.

Like many South Side neighborhoods, Bridgeport—originally called Hardscrabble—has a long history of racial tensions and gang wars mirroring its arc of ethnic change. Remnants of Bridgeport’s Eastern European roots can be seen in the architecture: steeples from countless Catholic and Orthodox churches rise above Bridgeport’s streets, though the church-goers are a few generations removed from those Irish, Lithuanian, and Polish immigrants. More recently, the neighborhood has seen a large influx of Chinese and Mexicans. The neighborhood’s ethnic diversity contrasts starkly with that of the surrounding communities, which has perhaps insulated it further from change and strengthened its strong sense of identity.

Despite the wave of redevelopment that has landed Bridgeport the “it-thing” tag, the new is not incongruous with the old. Those dedicated to the burgeoning art and restaurant scene are also committed to preserving Bridgeport’s historic architecture and culture. Instead of competing with one another, the new and old combine to create an atmosphere where it seems everyone is your neighbor, even if they live miles away.

Best Place to Drown in Marinara
Ricobene’s
In the shadow of the Dan Ryan-I55 interchange, the cars create a draft to flap a White Sox flag beside a neon sign calling out, “Eat At Ricobene’s.” Founded in 1946, Ribocene’s was in the neighborhood decades before the highway was built, and it still draws deep from these roots. Inside, the walls are filled with faded black-and-white photos of family portraits, children beaming on bicycles, and newlyweds. From back in the kitchen, ’50s R&B drifts out, a bit distorted by the sounds of the grill and fryer. Based on the quality of the food, the restaurant may well be there long after the soaring overpass has crumbled away. Offering truly classic Chicago fare, from deep-dish pizza to fat and greasy fries to hotdogs-hold-the-ketchup, this place is authentically Chicago. Yet as the menu suggests, Ricobene’s is most recognized for their “Famous Breaded Steak Sandwich.” Waves of thin-sliced steak, puddles of “red gravy” (similar to a basic marinara) and mounds of mozzarella all barely fit into the thick Italian bread. Decaled in a conservative 1940s font, the drug-store-style window modestly claims, “Good Food.” Yes, my friend, good food.  252 W. 26th St. Monday-Thursday, 9:30am-12:30am; Friday-Saturday, 9:30am-2am; Sunday, 11am-12:30am. (312)225-5555. ricobenespizza.com (Isaac Dalke)

Best Global Grocery
Cermak Fresh Market
If you ever need a quick indication of a neighborhood’s ethnic makeup, take a look within the local grocery store. Bridgeport’s Cermak Fresh Market, part of a local chain, reveals a community that doesn’t quite fit into any single mold. Equal parts standard supermarket fare, Italian cheeses, Asian-style seafood, and Hispanic seasonings, this market stays well-stocked with every culture’s basics. With its reasonable-to-cheap prices and haphazard layout, Cermak seeks to optimize the grocery shopping experience in terms of both amusement and savings. Twenty-five-pound bags of various rices are found beneath peaches and plums, while the baby food is next to olive oil. One aisle begins with Italian fare like dried pasta, transitions via canned tomatoes, and ends with Mexican treats and a floor-to-ceiling display of six-pound hominy cans. Perhaps Cermak Fresh Market also reflects Bridgeporters’ tendency to buy groceries in bulk.  3033 S. Halsted St. Daily, 7am-9pm. (312)460-3460 (Maria Nelson)

Best Geometric Shape
Co-Prosperity Sphere
The 5,000-plus square foot gallery of the Co-Prosperity Sphere acts as classroom, concert space, party floor, and de facto headquarters of post-Marxist bohemian activism. A self-proclaimed “experimental cultural center,” the Sphere is the brick-and-mortar outpost of the Public Media Institute, a non-profit that organizes the annual ten-day long Version Festival, which highlights the cutting edge of art, music, and arts education every spring.  The same folks turn out Lumpen Magazine, a publication that blends the aesthetic with a hard-line political agenda. The main instrument of the group’s cultural activism is the Co-Prosperity Sphere School, a weekly gathering that aims to teach its eager pupils about art in Chicago. By providing a community space that serves art through production, display, and education, the Co-Prosperity Sphere is taking an active role in actualizing their desire to transform Bridgeport into a “Community of the Future.”  3219-21 S. Morgan St. Hours by appointment. (773) 837-0145. coprosperity.org  (Candice Ralph and Tyler Leeds)

Best Traditional Italian
Gio’s Cafe and Deli
Located on the corner of two quiet residential streets, Gio’s Cafe and Deli has the charm and red-checkered tablecloths of a small town pizza parlor without the greasy, half-baked pizza. Instead, Gio’s offers imported and homemade pasta, Italian paninis, fried appetizers, and chicken entrees. Because it is both a cafe and market, you can grab lunch on the go, eat alone at a table, or just stop in to chat with the incredibly friendly staff. The best part of Gio’s, however, isn’t on its plates—it’s on their shelves. Imagine your kindly Italian grandmother’s pantry, multiply each item by five, and put it up for sale, trinkets and all. Stop into Gio’s if you are craving fresh pasta, top-notch bruschetta, or high-quality Italian olive oil, but also if you ever need a two-inch tall cheese grater, a six-pound can of chickpeas, or a pizza cutter whose handle is an Italian chef figurine. 2724 S. Lowe Ave. Monday-Saturday, 8am-9pm. (312)225-6368. gioscafe.com (Maria Nelson)

Best Savory Pastries
Pleasant House Bakery
If you’ve ever fancied a hearty meal from the other side of the pond, make a trip to try a royal pie from the Pleasant House Bakery. Despite the name, royal pies are closer to peasant food—hot, and filled with rib-sticking ingredients like steak and ale (or for vegetarians, mushroom and kale). The restaurant is tiny enough that the whole kitchen is visible behind the counter, so you’ll probably get to see Art Jackson, the owner, filling up the pastries while his wife Chelsea takes your order. However, truth be told, it’s not the pies but the little details that make this restaurant stand out: a simple radish salad from the owners’ garden, home-made sodas, delectable deserts, or the Vanilla Ice Pandora radio station in the background. Try visiting on a Friday, when the owners fry up fish-and-chips for a crowd. 964 W. 31st St. Tuesday-Thursday, 11am-9 pm; Friday-Saturday, 11am-10 pm; Sunday, noon-8 pm. (773)523-7437. pleasanthousebakery.com (Sharon Lurye)

Best Watering Hole
Maria’s Packaged Goods & Community Bar
For those weary of trekking north for quality booze, look no further than Maria’s Packaged Goods and Community Bar. A bar in the guise of an ordinary storefront, Maria’s provides two layers of alcoholic inception: the first, a liquor store, and the second, a tavern concealed behind an old freezer door. Boasting one of the largest selections of craft beer in the city, Maria’s has 16 artisan brews on tap and over 300 in bottles. Beers range in price from $2 for a “random shitty beer,” $3 for “bartender’s choice,” and up to $6 for microbrews. If beer isn’t your preferred way to get buzzed, Maria’s concocts mixed drinks rivaling Chicago cocktail heavy-hitters such as The Whistler. Chandeliers crafted from beer bottles cast a ruddy glow indoors, but during the warmer months patrons can bring drinks to a back patio area. Clientele ranges from old Bridgeport regulars to newly transplanted hip-young-things. True to its moniker, this joint is clearly a community watering hole. 960 W. 31st St. Sunday-Friday, 4pm-2am; Saturday, 4pm -3am. (773)890-0588. community-bar.com (Anna Fixsen)

Best Nature Walk
Henry C. Palmisano Nature Preserve
Rededicated last November in honor of the late outdoorsman and local sporting goods store owner Henry C. Palmisano, this 27-acre green space has had many lives. Until 1970, it was Stearns Quarry, a 387-foot-deep limestone mining site. After that, the gaping hole in the ground became an unnamed dump for construction waste. In 2004, the Chicago Park District began taking proposals for renovation, and shortly thereafter the location became Site Design Park, or Park No. 531. Today, in addition to Palmisano Nature Preserve, this natural recluse just south of the Stevenson Expressway is known by some as Mount Bridgeport—named for the man-made hill rising up out of the old quarry to tower over the surrounding houses along Halsted. Navigate around the hill, however, and the park reveals a self-contained water recirculation system replete with a retention pond and vegetation specifically selected to filter road salts in the winter. Meanwhile, a 1.5-mile long elevated walkway and a gravel running track snake through the park. The design also facilitates activities like fishing and kite flying, while preserving historical features such as the quarry’s limestone wall and mining elevators. Walking along the secluded quarry, it’s easy to leave behind the bustle of the city. Yet the top of Mount Bridgeport claims one of the best views of the Chicago skyline. 2700 S. Halsted St. (Maria Nelson)

Best Roast
Bridgeport Coffee Company
Founded in 2004, Bridgeport Coffee Company was the first product of commercial redevelopment along the intersection of 31st and Morgan. Once the old time neighborhood of the Daley political dynasty, this intersection is now known for drawing a crowd of fashion-conscious students and young professionals. Bolstered by Maria’s Packaged Goods and Community Bar and Pleasant House Bakery across the street, Bridgeport Coffee Co. acts as the scene’s focal point. Nonetheless, this coffee shop is also simply a great place to sit all day with a pot of mango black tea, a microbrewed cup of on-site roasted coffee, or a Filbert’s root beer bottled a few blocks west in McKinley Park. The atmosphere is cozy and welcoming with tasteful wood paneling and accents, chalkboard menus, and old photos of Bridgeport landmarks. The staff is chatty and will poke fun at customers while sharing their secret to Chicago’s best cup of coffee (hint: it’s the delicate, light roast). 3101 S. Morgan St. Monday-Friday, 6am-9pm; Saturday, 7am-9pm; Sunday, 8am-7pm. (773)247-9950. bridgeportcoffeecompany.com  (Maria Nelson)

Courtesy of Johanna Wawro/The Co-Prosperity Sphere

Friday night’s opening of “Riders,” Co-Prosperity Sphere’s latest installation, felt a little bit like a family reunion for the family you probably never had. The reception featured live Latin music, tortillas, PBR, and a horse—yes, a horse. Hidalgo (the horse) didn’t seem to know the difference between an Indiana pasture and a makeshift paddock in the middle of a Bridgeport art gallery, placidly munching on hay as city slickers pushed eagerly against the fence to get a look.

“I like to create an environment,” said photographer Johanna Wawro. “My idea of a fun show is appealing to the five senses, you know, with the taste of the food, the smell of the horse and obviously, the art.” She is only a part of the artistic input behind “Riders,” which includes work by video artist Andy Resek, a performance by installation artist Juan Angel Chavez, and airbrush art by Angel Cruz.

The exhibition focuses on how the beauty of Mexican ranch life can be simultaneously maintained and reinvented in new spaces—from Mexico to Indiana to the white walls of this Chicago art gallery. Wawro and Resek spent a year withmembers of a Mexican-American family, the Gonzalezes, at their home in Bridgeport and on their ranch in Rensselaer, a small community in northwest Indiana – the Gonzalezes became their muses.

Courtesy of Johanna Wawro/The Co-Prosperity Sphere

The concept of “Riders” was born during a walk around Bridgeport. Wawro and Resek happened to wander into an auto body shop on 32nd and Wallace and strike up a conversation with the owners. “The guys told me anytime you want to come to the ranch in Indiana, feel free to give us a call,” Wawro recounts. Wawro decided to take him up on the offer. And so began a yearlong relationship between Wawro, Resek and the Gonzalez family.

The show conjures up a feeling of intimate, domestic space like a Mexican abuelita’s living room. The artists transplanted items from the Gonzalezes’ actual home, including mounted fish, houseplants, sombreros, and even a futon covered by a woven blanket. Wawro’s photographs of the Gonzalez family and their ranch are thumbtacked in neat rows amongst the objects.

An odd mezcla of cultures is present in Wawro’s photographs. In a picture titled “Carlos,” the sitter’s garb is a hybrid of charro and Chicago. In one photo he wears a camo jacket, a black sweatshirt emblazoned with “Chicago,” and a cowboy hat. Wawro’s portraits create an odd familiarity between viewer and subject—indeed, members of the Gonzalez  clan (including Carlos himself) were congregated at the back of the gallery during the opening, wearing crisp button-downs and boots.

Real-life Carlos, equipped with a horseshoe mustache that would make Hulk Hogan envious, proudly gestured toward a picture of his mechanic shop and pointed to a few images of suped-up cars. Needless to say, the importance of these automotive feats was diminished by an adjacent poster of a topless, round-eyed blonde. Carlos’s mustache twitched with a smirk—“that’s my girlfriend.” After a fifteen-minute discussion concerning custom-paint jobs, Carlos took a swig of his PBR and went to join another conversation near Hidalgo.

On the northern wall of the gallery, Resek’s video installation is segmented into three screens depicting the everyday activities of the Gonzales family in both Bridgeport and Rensselaer. Resek is able to use the very un-Mexican scene—snowy winter skies and a rural Midwestern agriscape—to highlight the vibrancy of the Gonzalez heritage. In an artist statement Resek explains, “My desire is to explore the complex emotional lives of individuals, delving into the drama that is present in everyday life but isn’t necessarily visible on the surface.”

“At first we thought about calling it “Urban Cowboy Show.” I thought that sounded like a gay porno,” Wawro explained. “Then we decided on “Riders” in reference to the first time I visited the Gonzalezes. It’s very Carlos-y,” Wawro added. Whatever “Carlos-y” means. As she spoke, Carlos was busy looking at Hidalgo in the corral.

“I gotta find my little sister,” Wawro said, looking around the gallery. “I think those boys are getting too flirty with her.” She temporarily abandoned her role as artist and disappeared into the crowd as a dutiful sister. After all, family does come first.

Co-Prosperity Sphere, 3219 S Morgan St. Through June 10. Hours by appointment only. (773)562-0739. coprosperity.org