Arty Bloody Farty

Art queens attack!

Got it in 3, bitches.

Polish your statement jewelry. Rehearse dropping “materiality” and "liminal" into casual conversations. And brace yourself to have all your assumptions about beauty, value, money, God, America, and puppies politely dismantled over a crisp glass of Pommery. 

It’s art-mageddon week, Chicago: EXPO Chicago’s vernissage kicks off tonight.

I got a little sneak preview on Tuesday—at least of the polite conversation variety. My most well-connected art buddy, fresh from Art Basel Hong Kong, let me tag along to Dorothy, that velour-covered disco ball of Chicago dykeness. Tony Lewis was there as guest of honor, but instead of text-based creativity, he turned his artistry to cocktailing (do get his negroni recipe if you see him). Meanwhile, a rep from Frederic Malle—co-sponsor of the event—floated around spritzing guests with something intoxicating. Perfume, I think. Though my partner said I smelled like Deep Woods Off. I told him i was camping. 

Another Pour Artist: Tony Lewis makes a mean cocktail.

And now for the answer to the question absolutely no one asked: What's on my agenda?

Tonight, I’ll be getting an early peek at the reimagined Intuit museum. The $10 million renovation doubles the space and introduces a new name: Intuit Art Museum (Hello, boundless “I AM:___" branding opportunities; it's a copywriter's dream.). The new tagline -- Intuitive | Outsider | Self-Taught -- carefully updates the language around what to call this tricky genre. (So folk off if you don't like it.) The inaugural show for the revamped, expanded space, Catalyst: Im/migration and Self-taught Art in Chicago, couldn’t be more of-the-moment, politically speaking. Still, I’ll die on the hill that “We’re New Here, Too” would’ve been a better title. But what do I know.

BTW: Saturday is the sold-out benefit gala—can you believe? May the ghosts of Lee Godie and Henry Darger have mercy upon our souls. P.S. Can’t wait to see if / how they preserved his room. 

Speaking of those two whackadoodlers, we recently said goodbye to Carl Hammer Gallery, a cornerstone of Chicago’s outsider scene (read this!). A few weeks back, the formidable director/queen/guardian of Hammer’s gallery, Yolanda, let me in for one last glimpse of the collection. The Lee Godie photos... my god. Cindy Sherman, eat your heart out. (Rumor has it, she’s a Godie fangirl like me.) Anyhoooo, as my dad might have said, Carl is a real class act. The city is poorer without his gallery.  

But back to the art week chaos. In addition to the Intuit preview and vernissage (which means, 'opening' in French, and 'artsy fuckers' in English), I’m hoping to catch MCA curator Jamillah James in conversation with one of my all-time faves, Amanda Williams (whom I once profiled for Crain’s back when she was gold-leafing Chicago Common Brick—she’s a real thinker, that one).

Tomorrow: a screening of Art21’s Artists and Activists, featuring Nick Cave, Puppies Puppies, and Catherine Opie. Sounds like a dream I once had. 

The VIP after parties will surely packed to capacity. Was I supposed to RSVP as a VIP? Well... you let me in anyway. I’m somebody. I swear.  Much love, --The Boy With the Thorn in His You Know Where