In the late 1800s, a restaurant opened up in this formerly German and Irish neighborhood called “At the City of Plzen,” in honor of the second largest city in West Bohemia (the modern-day Czech Republic). But with World War I came vast labor shortages, which attracted a variety of immigrant groups, most notably the Mexican population that so dominates and defines the neighborhood today. But while it may be known primarily as Chicago’s Mexican neighborhood, Pilsen has also recently built up a reputation as a veritable hotspot of up-and-coming artists who have only added to the area’s prosperity and points of interest. The second Friday of each month (appropriately titled Second Fridays) boasts new offerings from many of the galleries that dot Halsted around 18th Street, which are worth checking out for much more than just the free wine. Add in exciting contemporary artwork and cheap, authentic Mexican eats, and you’ll understand why Pilsen is perennially pegged as “up and coming.” Read the rest of this entry »

“Your house is a minefield… just like your car, just like the orchard, just like the backyard.” This disturbing message of Martin Crimp’s production, “Advice to Iraqi Women,” is clear through the satirical juxtaposition of motherhood in two very separate worlds. The Rooms Gallery in Pilsen will be hosting this unique interactive performance installation on April 25th and 26th from 7-10pm in conjunction with Artropolis, the annual constellation of art expositions and fairs held at the Merchandise Mart this weekend. The performance is free, but suggested donations go to the American Friends Service Committee to benefit Iraqi refugees. Read the rest of this entry »

We asked some leading lights of the South Side art scene: Why does art matter? What is the social relevance of art? Why do we need it on the South Side? What follows are their responses. Read the rest of this entry »

Entering the performance art gallery ROOMS prior to the showing of its new play, “Bird Dog Sedition,” you are immediately struck by the sense of solemnity. Beneath the dim bluish lighting, a half-circle of wooden folding chairs faces a small open space, in the center of which a blindfolded woman stands statuesque atop a pedestal. Quotes from noted philosophers and writers such as Orwell, Nietzsche, and Baudrillard adorn the walls; their political and religious convictions echo silently along with more audible, ominous music. Like a church sanctuary before service begins, the atmosphere evokes a feeling of reverence. Read the rest of this entry »

Now, Speak. “My hair is falling out, my hair is falling out, my hair is falling out, my hair is falling out. All over the place in little red armies of individual hairs looking at me these hair people I try to throw them out. Like a red atomic bomb that went off all over my pillow. I feel some sense of loss.” I think I want to watch her, like this—three inches from the screen—for hours. I can’t tell you her name or even what she’s talking about—herself? Cancer? I didn’t have time to find out because a moment later I got distracted by the guy next to her (with the dreds) who I heard saying “Spilling squids.” This strange alliterative sentence caught my ear and, bashfully, I shuffled over to stand before him. Read the rest of this entry »