Archive for the ‘Auditorium’ Category

04/26/2007

The Arpino Box at the Auditorium Theater


The Joffrey has been performing at the Auditorium Theater by Louis Sullivan since about 1969. It’s one of the greatest houses in the world to see dance, celestial from the moment you enter. Since the Joffrey moved to Chicago in 1995 the Auditorium has been its home. And one man has seen all or nearly all of the Joffrey’s performances there, and from the same box – the one closest to the stage, house right. He is the Joffrey’s Artistic Director, Gerald Arpino.

Last night’s performance at the Auditorium began the wind-down of the two-year fiftieth anniversary celebration of the Joffrey. It’s been announced that Arpino will become Artistic Director Emeritus and an international search will begin to find his successor.

So last night, before the dance, first, a short excerpt was added to the program from Gerald Arpino’s Olympics of 1966 (complete with torch and flame) to celebrate winning the bid to become the U.S. choice to win the 2016 games.

And then a spotlight shone on Arpino sitting in his box and an announcement was made that it shall be named after him.

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02/25/2007

Chicago Ergo Sum

Second City? The Joffrey, August Wilson, and with the opera “Dialogues of the Carmelites,” if we’re second, we’re second to

nun.

Hmm, what should we see today?
This Gauguin in the Art Institute’s “From Cezanne to Picasso show?” More on that in a moment.

What a week! It started with the Goodman’s superb production of August Wilson’s last masterpiece, “Radio Golf.” That play sings of our time, without music. His African-American characters – in the 1990’s – have lost their music. One gets a spot on the radio and he talks about golf! (Hence the name of the play.) The one time the two leads do sing is when they learn from the government that their neighborhood has been officially declared “blight.” They do an African-based dance and cry out ecstactically “blight! blight! blight!” Now for August Wilson to show African-Americans happy that their neighborhood is blighted, and that the U.S. Government thinks so, and to have his two characters be happy to work with the U. S. Government to get federal loans to build new housing to make money, is a strong condemnation indeed. Of course, things change in the course of the play. The set for this final play in the Wilson cycle picked up bits from earlier plays, nearly all of which are set in the Hill District of Pittsburgh. And one more note about the music, rather than singing the blues as August Wilson characters from earlier in the century do, these two jokers in “Radio Golf” sing “Blue Skies, ” sounding like a couple of frat boys. His 1990’s characters have for the most part lost their songs, which his play for the 1910’s “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” warned against.

“Now, I can look at you, Mr. Loomis, and see you a man who done forgot his song. Forgot how to sing it. A fellow forget that and he forget who he is. Forget how he’s supposed to mark down life…See, Mr. Loomis, when a man forgets his song, he goes off in search of it…till he find out he’s got it with him all the time.”
-Joe Turner’s Come and Gone

The Goodman leased its smaller Owen Theater to Congo Square Theater for a take-your-breath-away “Joe Turner.” (Both shows closed Sunday.) When Herald Loomis is lying on the floor at the end of act one, “What you gonna do Herald Loomis?” because his feet won’t hold him, you can’t wait for intermission to end, to find out what he gonna do. And that great line at the end, I don’t want to spoil it but it’s about “shining like new money” leaves one speechless and hopeful. The cast was superb, particularly Allen Gilmore, as Bynum. “I binds ’em. But you can’t bind what don’t cling.” He embodied the shaman in his character, in ways that will make your hair stand end, like his.

Kudos to the Goodman for producing exceptionally well all ten of Wilson’s plays. They’re the only theater in America to put them all on. And I look forward to the day when we’ll be able to see them in order, one after the other. There’s hardly a more important acheivement in American art.

As I walked home from the Goodman I saw the back of our Picasso statue, then walked passed Bertrand Goldberg’s Marina City, Mies van der Rohe’s IBM building, the Wrigley, the Tribune Tower, all lit at night… What a city! thought I.


The next day I feasted on the Joffrey Ballet in Louis Sullivan’s Auditorium Theater. Both took my breath away. The Auditorium always does, especially as it’s restored and regilded; the Joffrey also were also golden. Most especially their performance of “Les Presages,” Leonide Massine’s most beautiful marriage (in 1933) of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony to dance. The divine Maia Wilkins was possessed as Action. When she crouched down and stared at you with her cat eyes she looked like a leopard in the night. Wilkins was on fire.

And the duo of Thomas Nicholas in black and Emily Patterson in a short red skirt danced Passion as if they were that. What a combination, he was structure, she was decoration, he was material she was wispy, one absolutely craving the other, they were thesis, antithesis and synthesis, dancing what is there and what is not there, which is what passion is all about.

Temur Suluashvili left no choices when he appeared. He commanded the stage as Fate.

The backdrop thrust forth the spiritual qualities of Kandinsky, in an energetic, color and action-filled canvas – 1930’s Russian and Bauhaus. The costumes picked up bits from the backdrop. So color and sound became one. And the dancers, moving to the music and wearing the colors also blurred all lines between color, sound and movement.

With the strong lighting shining on them from the sides you had a scarily good dance.

There was some inconsistency in the ensemble (I did not see the opening night cast).

I didn’t love the version I saw of George Balanchine’s seminal modernist work “Apollo. ” Fabrice Calmels danced the lead – he’s extremely tall which should be a benefit, but he doesn’t dance with enough grace for me. A couple of years ago I saw the Joffrey dance “Apollo,” I think Calvin Kitten danced the lead, and he and it were superb. Fabrice always seems to be thinking about what to do next, as if the steps are not coming from his being. There’s a delay between intention and movement. So Fabrice made a fine Apollo, except when he moved.

Only the opening, with April Daly as Leto giving birth to Apollo and Fabrice stumbling to learn to walk is stunning. I’m glad the Joffrey restored that scene to the dance after Balanchine excised it. (And glad the Joffrey helped preserve “Les Presages” and “The Green Table” too.) The end of “Apollo” is a knockout, when the gd ascends the steps to Olympus. When the ballet ended I walked to the back of the theater and up a flight of steps myself, to see what it felt like.

To see the Joffrey in the Auditorium Theater, it hardly gets better than that.

They closed with “The Green Table,” which is always a heart-shattering dance. Because we never learn the lessons of war. The Green Table is perfect for these crazed times, and I’m glad the Joffrey programmed it; alas as you know it debuted before World War Two and it couldn’t make people come to their senses then. The dancers had fun with the opening and closing scenes of diplomats, and then drove home the anti-war message beautifully. The soloists and the ensemble danced with conviction; the costumes, the lighting, even the haircuts! – all rang true. Michael Levine danced Death and he made me want to run away from him as far as I could. I hear Fabrice Calmels was quite good as Death as his height and deliberation benefits him in that role.

The programming of what they call “Destiny’s Dances” (can’t they come up with a better title?) made a fascinating arc. It began with the early, nearly abstract, not very narrative “Les Presages,” to Balanchine’s “Apollo showing the birth of Modernism, to “The Green Table” – which is narrative, expressionist and very cinematic.

The Joffrey is touring, to PA, NY, Kansas City, Los Angeles and a few other cities. If they’re coming to your town, don’t miss them.

I’m glad they’re traveling, to spread the word about how good they are. That’s what they need to build their reputation and continue to attract talent. Enjoy! —

But wait there’s more! Also Now Playing in Daleyville.

Rudolf Stingel at the MCA, and at the Art Institute, two great photo shows: “When Color Was New,” and


Far from Home: Photography, Travel and Inspiration,” twentieth century photographers working away from home. Nice to see lesser-known work by well-known photographers.

And at the Art Institute is the miraculous “From Cezanne to Picasso, Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Avant-Garde. ” 32 glorious, vibrating, yet soothing Cezannes; Gauguin’s “D’ou venons nous?” and a room or two full of Picassos. It’s room after room of masterpieces, from Russia, Paris, New York and local.

So who could ask for more? Oh, tonight I go to the Lyric’s Dialogues of the Carmelites. It’s supposed to be overwhelming. I’ll get back to you on that.

-Edoardo

Bottom Photo of more fine modernism: Edward Weston. Washbowl, 1925 © 1981 Center for Creative Photography

02/25/2007

Chicago Ergo Sum

Second City? The Joffrey, August Wilson, and with the opera “Dialogues of the Carmelites,” if we’re second, we’re second to

nun.

Hmm, what should we see today?
This Gauguin in the Art Institute’s “From Cezanne to Picasso show?” More on that in a moment.

What a week! It started with the Goodman’s superb production of August Wilson’s last masterpiece, “Radio Golf.” That play sings of our time, without music. His African-American characters – in the 1990’s – have lost their music. One gets a spot on the radio and he talks about golf! (Hence the name of the play.) The one time the two leads do sing is when they learn from the government that their neighborhood has been officially declared “blight.” They do an African-based dance and cry out ecstactically “blight! blight! blight!” Now for August Wilson to show African-Americans happy that their neighborhood is blighted, and that the U.S. Government thinks so, and to have his two characters be happy to work with the U. S. Government to get federal loans to build new housing to make money, is a strong condemnation indeed. Of course, things change in the course of the play. The set for this final play in the Wilson cycle picked up bits from earlier plays, nearly all of which are set in the Hill District of Pittsburgh. And one more note about the music, rather than singing the blues as August Wilson characters from earlier in the century do, these two jokers in “Radio Golf” sing “Blue Skies, ” sounding like a couple of frat boys. His 1990’s characters have for the most part lost their songs, which his play for the 1910’s “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” warned against.

“Now, I can look at you, Mr. Loomis, and see you a man who done forgot his song. Forgot how to sing it. A fellow forget that and he forget who he is. Forget how he’s supposed to mark down life…See, Mr. Loomis, when a man forgets his song, he goes off in search of it…till he find out he’s got it with him all the time.”
-Joe Turner’s Come and Gone

The Goodman leased its smaller Owen Theater to Congo Square Theater for a take-your-breath-away “Joe Turner.” (Both shows closed Sunday.) When Herald Loomis is lying on the floor at the end of act one, “What you gonna do Herald Loomis?” because his feet won’t hold him, you can’t wait for intermission to end, to find out what he gonna do. And that great line at the end, I don’t want to spoil it but it’s about “shining like new money” leaves one speechless and hopeful. The cast was superb, particularly Allen Gilmore, as Bynum. “I binds ’em. But you can’t bind what don’t cling.” He embodied the shaman in his character, in ways that will make your hair stand end, like his.

Kudos to the Goodman for producing exceptionally well all ten of Wilson’s plays. They’re the only theater in America to put them all on. And I look forward to the day when we’ll be able to see them in order, one after the other. There’s hardly a more important acheivement in American art.

As I walked home from the Goodman I saw the back of our Picasso statue, then walked passed Bertrand Goldberg’s Marina City, Mies van der Rohe’s IBM building, the Wrigley, the Tribune Tower, all lit at night… What a city! thought I.


The next day I feasted on the Joffrey Ballet in Louis Sullivan’s Auditorium Theater. Both took my breath away. The Auditorium always does, especially as it’s restored and regilded; the Joffrey also were also golden. Most especially their performance of “Les Presages,” Leonide Massine’s most beautiful marriage (in 1933) of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony to dance. The divine Maia Wilkins was possessed as Action. When she crouched down and stared at you with her cat eyes she looked like a leopard in the night. Wilkins was on fire.

And the duo of Thomas Nicholas in black and Emily Patterson in a short red skirt danced Passion as if they were that. What a combination, he was structure, she was decoration, he was material she was wispy, one absolutely craving the other, they were thesis, antithesis and synthesis, dancing what is there and what is not there, which is what passion is all about.

Temur Suluashvili left no choices when he appeared. He commanded the stage as Fate.

The backdrop thrust forth the spiritual qualities of Kandinsky, in an energetic, color and action-filled canvas – 1930’s Russian and Bauhaus. The costumes picked up bits from the backdrop. So color and sound became one. And the dancers, moving to the music and wearing the colors also blurred all lines between color, sound and movement.

With the strong lighting shining on them from the sides you had a scarily good dance.

There was some inconsistency in the ensemble (I did not see the opening night cast).

I didn’t love the version I saw of George Balanchine’s seminal modernist work “Apollo. ” Fabrice Calmels danced the lead – he’s extremely tall which should be a benefit, but he doesn’t dance with enough grace for me. A couple of years ago I saw the Joffrey dance “Apollo,” I think Calvin Kitten danced the lead, and he and it were superb. Fabrice always seems to be thinking about what to do next, as if the steps are not coming from his being. There’s a delay between intention and movement. So Fabrice made a fine Apollo, except when he moved.

Only the opening, with April Daly as Leto giving birth to Apollo and Fabrice stumbling to learn to walk is stunning. I’m glad the Joffrey restored that scene to the dance after Balanchine excised it. (And glad the Joffrey helped preserve “Les Presages” and “The Green Table” too.) The end of “Apollo” is a knockout, when the gd ascends the steps to Olympus. When the ballet ended I walked to the back of the theater and up a flight of steps myself, to see what it felt like.

To see the Joffrey in the Auditorium Theater, it hardly gets better than that.

They closed with “The Green Table,” which is always a heart-shattering dance. Because we never learn the lessons of war. The Green Table is perfect for these crazed times, and I’m glad the Joffrey programmed it; alas as you know it debuted before World War Two and it couldn’t make people come to their senses then. The dancers had fun with the opening and closing scenes of diplomats, and then drove home the anti-war message beautifully. The soloists and the ensemble danced with conviction; the costumes, the lighting, even the haircuts! – all rang true. Michael Levine danced Death and he made me want to run away from him as far as I could. I hear Fabrice Calmels was quite good as Death as his height and deliberation benefits him in that role.

The programming of what they call “Destiny’s Dances” (can’t they come up with a better title?) made a fascinating arc. It began with the early, nearly abstract, not very narrative “Les Presages,” to Balanchine’s “Apollo showing the birth of Modernism, to “The Green Table” – which is narrative, expressionist and very cinematic.

The Joffrey is touring, to PA, NY, Kansas City, Los Angeles and a few other cities. If they’re coming to your town, don’t miss them.

I’m glad they’re traveling, to spread the word about how good they are. That’s what they need to build their reputation and continue to attract talent. Enjoy! —

But wait there’s more! Also Now Playing in Daleyville.

Rudolf Stingel at the MCA, and at the Art Institute, two great photo shows: “When Color Was New,” and


Far from Home: Photography, Travel and Inspiration,” twentieth century photographers working away from home. Nice to see lesser-known work by well-known photographers.

And at the Art Institute is the miraculous “From Cezanne to Picasso, Ambroise Vollard, Patron of the Avant-Garde. ” 32 glorious, vibrating, yet soothing Cezannes; Gauguin’s “D’ou venons nous?” and a room or two full of Picassos. It’s room after room of masterpieces, from Russia, Paris, New York and local.

So who could ask for more? Oh, tonight I go to the Lyric’s Dialogues of the Carmelites. It’s supposed to be overwhelming. I’ll get back to you on that.

-Edoardo

Bottom Photo of more fine modernism: Edward Weston. Washbowl, 1925 © 1981 Center for Creative Photography

02/16/2007

Tyler makes me think. He asks, “What are our five favorite buildings in America, that are publicly accessible? “ The list was not easy to make. We are blessed with great buildings in this land. From California, to the New York Island. But we’ll give it a try.

All this was prompted by this crazy AIA list of “the people’s” favorite buildings in America.

So here’s ours, in reverse order of favorites.

If Tyler wants to name the St. Louis arch, then I’ll choose as

#5. “Cloud Gate” in Millennium Park, Chicago, by Anish Kapoor.

Tyler says the arch is the best piece of public art in America. He might be right, it is sublime and thoughtful and delightfully modernist. But is it superior to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in D.C., the Statue of Liberty, or “the bean?” “The bean,” Cloud Gate, is also a gate, not seen in the pic above, and as I’ve written, it expresses Einsteinian space, the relationship of the individual to the collective, of the individual to the self, the relationship of heaven to earth and light to solid, and it gorgeously displays the celestial passage of time. Not bad for a single object. I’ll vote for it as a “favorite building” also to show how architecture and sculpture are wedded these days.

4. Fallingwater and Robie House, by Frank Lloyd Wright.

I could have listed Wright’s Guggenheim, Unity Temple, or Johnson Wax, but I’ll choose these two domestic symphonies. They’re exhilirating to walk through, to experience the blend of nature and flowing space and important for their attempt to fashion domestic harmony (would that it were!). I could have listed only the obvious masterpiece Fallingwater, but I know
Robie House better and for its urban location and size it would be an easier model for more people to follow. Would that urban and suburban dwellings were built with such sensitivity and artistry today.

3. The Auditorium Building, by Louis Sullivan.

A powerful, beautiful statement of the importance of bringing culture at the highest levels to all the people. A gesamtkunstwerk by “unser Lieber Meister,” if ever there was one. In there more than anywhere else in the world, one feels, “Ars Longis, Vita Brevis.” And it’s thrilling. When the performance is moving, say, the Joffrey dancing Balanchine’s “Apollo”, one looks up at the space under the golden, electrically lit arches above, and has a taste of what heaven will be like.

2. 860 – 880 Lake Shore Drive Apartments, by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.

Mies’ work was left off the AIA/people’s list of favorite buildings, but his solutions to find dignity and poetry in modern, industrial life are unrivalled. I always live in large cities, and can only afford to live in a high-rise. If I could live in any high-rise anywhere, I’d like to live in 860 – 880 N. Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. Oh, wait a minute, I do live there. I’ve been there 5 years. Each day is magic. The ways the two halves of the whole play off of each other, in unfolding overlapping ever-sliding planes. The way the I-beams rise up the sides, create depth and when you walk around the buildings, cause the facades to seem to open and close. The crystalline cleansing of walking through the lobby. The serenity of looking out through my magic windows, through which the city takes on a perfection. After 5 years, I still hear music from these works of art.

And, as of today, my number one pick for my favorite building in America is:


1. The Farnsworth House, by Mies.

Plato would be jealous. The Farnsworth incarnates, in space, light and a few fine materials, mostly in pure white, the perfect idea of the modern house. Whether it works well or not is another issue. I love to sit inside and contemplate the ever-changing nature outside, and the nature of life, lived in a modern way – is that possible? – inside. Space and time flow through one, inside this lantern, this beacon, this jewel in the woods. It is more beautiful, more shocking, more perfect than you, or even Plato, could imagine. A true Temple of Love to love. Adding to it’s allure is that it’s unattainable now that it’s owned by the National Trust and Landmarks Illinois. When it was for sale recently was the only time I’ve ever played the lottery.

What’s your list?

I thought of mine off the top of my head, I’m sure I’ll argue with myself as soon as I post this. What didn’t make my list, but could have?
For a religious building – Eero Saarinen’s chapel at MIT.
For a library – Louis Kahn at Phillips Exeter Academy.

There you go.
Now let’s build more good ones!
-E

02/16/2007

Tyler makes me think. He asks, “What are our five favorite buildings in America, that are publicly accessible? “ The list was not easy to make. We are blessed with great buildings in this land. From California, to the New York Island. But we’ll give it a try.

All this was prompted by this crazy AIA list of “the people’s” favorite buildings in America.

So here’s ours, in reverse order of favorites.

If Tyler wants to name the St. Louis arch, then I’ll choose as

#5. “Cloud Gate” in Millennium Park, Chicago, by Anish Kapoor.

Tyler says the arch is the best piece of public art in America. He might be right, it is sublime and thoughtful and delightfully modernist. But is it superior to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in D.C., the Statue of Liberty, or “the bean?” “The bean,” Cloud Gate, is also a gate, not seen in the pic above, and as I’ve written, it expresses Einsteinian space, the relationship of the individual to the collective, of the individual to the self, the relationship of heaven to earth and light to solid, and it gorgeously displays the celestial passage of time. Not bad for a single object. I’ll vote for it as a “favorite building” also to show how architecture and sculpture are wedded these days.

4. Fallingwater and Robie House, by Frank Lloyd Wright.

I could have listed Wright’s Guggenheim, Unity Temple, or Johnson Wax, but I’ll choose these two domestic symphonies. They’re exhilirating to walk through, to experience the blend of nature and flowing space and important for their attempt to fashion domestic harmony (would that it were!). I could have listed only the obvious masterpiece Fallingwater, but I know
Robie House better and for its urban location and size it would be an easier model for more people to follow. Would that urban and suburban dwellings were built with such sensitivity and artistry today.

3. The Auditorium Building, by Louis Sullivan.

A powerful, beautiful statement of the importance of bringing culture at the highest levels to all the people. A gesamtkunstwerk by “unser Lieber Meister,” if ever there was one. In there more than anywhere else in the world, one feels, “Ars Longis, Vita Brevis.” And it’s thrilling. When the performance is moving, say, the Joffrey dancing Balanchine’s “Apollo”, one looks up at the space under the golden, electrically lit arches above, and has a taste of what heaven will be like.

2. 860 – 880 Lake Shore Drive Apartments, by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.

Mies’ work was left off the AIA/people’s list of favorite buildings, but his solutions to find dignity and poetry in modern, industrial life are unrivalled. I always live in large cities, and can only afford to live in a high-rise. If I could live in any high-rise anywhere, I’d like to live in 860 – 880 N. Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. Oh, wait a minute, I do live there. I’ve been there 5 years. Each day is magic. The ways the two halves of the whole play off of each other, in unfolding overlapping ever-sliding planes. The way the I-beams rise up the sides, create depth and when you walk around the buildings, cause the facades to seem to open and close. The crystalline cleansing of walking through the lobby. The serenity of looking out through my magic windows, through which the city takes on a perfection. After 5 years, I still hear music from these works of art.

And, as of today, my number one pick for my favorite building in America is:


1. The Farnsworth House, by Mies.

Plato would be jealous. The Farnsworth incarnates, in space, light and a few fine materials, mostly in pure white, the perfect idea of the modern house. Whether it works well or not is another issue. I love to sit inside and contemplate the ever-changing nature outside, and the nature of life, lived in a modern way – is that possible? – inside. Space and time flow through one, inside this lantern, this beacon, this jewel in the woods. It is more beautiful, more shocking, more perfect than you, or even Plato, could imagine. A true Temple of Love to love. Adding to it’s allure is that it’s unattainable now that it’s owned by the National Trust and Landmarks Illinois. When it was for sale recently was the only time I’ve ever played the lottery.

What’s your list?

I thought of mine off the top of my head, I’m sure I’ll argue with myself as soon as I post this. What didn’t make my list, but could have?
For a religious building – Eero Saarinen’s chapel at MIT.
For a library – Louis Kahn at Phillips Exeter Academy.

There you go.
Now let’s build more good ones!
-E

10/19/2006

And I learned from Rich Cahan’s book that Louis Sullivan’s Auditorium Theater reopened after a long overdo restoration on October 31st, 1967, with – guess who performed there that night?

The New York City Ballet. I saw them last night. At the Harris Theater for Music and Dance. All night long I thought, “this would be so much better in the more lyrical space of Sullivan and Adler’s Auditorium…”

The NYCB last night was nothing fabulous, except for a duet to music by Stravinsky. “Duo Concertant.”

The acoustics for the live orchestra were not bad, but not exceptional. The pointe shoes clacked loudly on the floor of the Harris (and Balanchine, whose dances were performed last night, consulted on dance floors! Such as the one at our own Ravinia.)

Still, worth seeing. And probably, the more contemporary works, such as Fearful Symmetries – to music by John Adams – will look okay in that pallid and concrete setting. Nixon in China (the John Adams opera) performed in the Harris last season by Chicago Opera Theater was riveting.

-E

01/30/2006

Hardly a moment to blog. Perhaps lost a little momentum too, because after yesterday’s show I wrote a fine entry, only to have it devoured by computerland, never to be read by you. Such a shame. So now I offer this far more prosaic recap of our show yesterday with Linda Searl, Larry Booth and Ned Cramer; a show, remember this- on how to make Chicagoland the best, most vibrant and beautiful, and economically successful region it can be. I do believe that in the long run, good design=good business. And here, with our legacy of great buildings, we should capitalize on that and become known again throughout the world for the exciting spaces and rehabs and parks that we can realize here.

With that in mind, we talked on the show about the need to compete globally for tourist and convention dollars, which gives an added need to design those great public spaces and places. We talked about the lesson from Millennium Park – that good design can be good business. To what extent has the Mayor’s Office and the Pier Authority absorbed that lesson? We talked about balancing work by local talent with work by outsiders. And Larry Booth and Linda Searl had an on-air tete-a-tete-a-tete to see if the Chicago Architecture Foundation could sponsor a charette (design workshop) to explore ideas to make the revamped Navy Pier even better.

Then we all talked about how and where construction for Olympics facitilites should go, if Chicago bids for and wins the 2016 games. Gosh – you’ll be ten years older by the time they’d happen here! And we found art in the new structures going up (-will they? It’s hard to have faith in that site! Anyway, I liked it as a pia-z-z-a.) We’re talking Block 37. Oh, excuse me, 108 N. State.

We’ll revisit these topics, they’re good ones. In the meantime, if you missed the show, or you want to hear it again, you can listen to it here. Don’t miss Larry Booth proposing that the expressway entrance to the city on the very widened Congress Street, end at Wells, where Congress would be narrowed to the way it was.
Interesting idea. You know the stone arches you walk under and through between Michigan Avenue and the door of the Auditorium Theater? That’s supposed to be indoor space, it was made outdoor when Congress was widened and the sidewalk outside those arches was taken away. And in that space, (and let Larry Booth put it back), when it’s inside the Auditorium Building, is supposed to be- a great bar. I’d love to see it. And not just because I’m parched.

Allbest,
-Edward

Photos of the outside of the Auditorium Building and of the bar (at top of post), from Architectural Record, 1891-92.