The Art of Life

Day 5

I know this one was a long time coming, but I want to try and get and keep this trip in memory as much as I can so here goes…

The House of Blues Gospel breakfast. The promise of down home cooking and a Gospel choir drew Candace and I to this Sunday morning delight. The building itself was something to behold. The art inside was just incredible, very roots American, very blues American, and terribly hard to describe in words. Many bright colors, very simple designs, souls poured out in paint I guess is how I would describe it. Was it church? Well not exactly I guess but man was it uplifting. Good thing the food helped to keep me grounded. I felt like I might have needed to be rolled back to the hotel when I was done. Southern cooking is totally amazing. I discovered that I love grits, and hash brown casserole, and mashed sweet potatoes and fried chicken, and andouille sausage, and waffles with maple butter, and most of all biscuits with gravy (seriously hungry now). The food was unbelievable. We were sitting with some woman from Virginia, who weren’t sure it seems, what to make of us white folks. I kept getting funny looks when I tried to make conversation, but once we all got into the music it was all good.

The choir was everything I could have hoped for and more. Pure unadulterated joy poured out of their mouths and it was totally awesome, just awesome, even thinking about it now makes me smile. It was such a great time, if you ever have an opportunity to go to one of these (they do them at every House of Blues, every Sunday, across the States) GO! You will love it, I promise, easily a top five highlight of our trip.

The day turned out to be a very personally rewarding day. First the HoB, and then… the Art Institute of Chicago. I felt more emotional in that place than I have in months, it was almost overload. I love art, love it. I love how it is brought forth into the world, what it is trying to say through the type of brushstrokes and period it came from. It is hard not to be overwhelmed staring at a Monet, observing the use of light and stroke to create an impression of London more breathtaking than any photograph or looking at a self portrait of Van Gogh, knowing that each stroke was his and not some lithograph or poster. The sheer magnitude of our history and our story took me away as I looked at pieces from as early as the 12th century, mostly religious paintings. I was impressed by the scope and size of some of them (some were at least 10 feet high and 7 or 8 feet wide). I also had the privilege to see Sunday at La Grande Jatte, my personal favorite and a pointillism masterpiece (I bought a poster of it for my office too). I studied the dots, and marveled at its beauty. Some other highlights included American Gothic (HA! Kari nyah nyah surprised me how small it was), Night Hawks (you would know it if you saw it), various Toulouse LaTrec(sp?) pieces (one which kind of surprised us because it contained a woman who was clearly used by Baz Luhrman in Moulin Rouge, dress, hair, and all), antique armor and weapons (turns out a lot of knights were small people, I wouldn’t have fit in any of that gear at all), and all kinds of other works that made us marvel. It was such a nice experience overall too, much quieter than the other attractions, I think mostly because of the noticeable lack of rugrats cluttering up the place (note to self: may not be ready for fatherhood just yet). It was peaceful, even meditative. A terrific day, and my favorite of the trip.

Candace and I went for supper at the Cheesecake Factory, or as I like to call it, the Downtown Chicago Insane Asylum. We had tried to eat there no less than three times during the week, and there were always huge line-ups. One night there was a line-up to go your name to get a pager thingy. That’s right, a line-up for the line-up. Forget that. Anyway, this night the crowds seemed a bit better, but we still had to wait an hour for our table, the food has to be good right? Right? (cue crickets) On the up side we had a pleasant (?) chat with a woman and her put upon but friendly granddaughter. Grandma was continuously verbally drubbing the poor girl with how she should live her life, where she would go to college (clearly a few years away), all manner of things. I think she was happy to have someone to divert the Grandma from those things. Dinner and a show, what a deal!

The food was alright, although certainly not worth the wait compared to what we had eaten thus far elsewhere. I will say this, they make a mean Pina Colada (thanks to my father-in-law, I am now a Pina Colada addict, although not an alcoholic!) After supper we headed back to the hotel, sat back and watched some TV. Big day tomorrow, driving to Effingham, which means driving through Chicago!