Growing Season

The grapes are teenagers, but they look like babies. They are the size of big peas, but a different green, a lighter, clearer green, a green that says I am not ready. They are hard like plastic buttons, and the last part of their maturing is to just swell and swell. Juice. To become almost […]

Here, There

A new gallery opened last night in what they are calling the Stockyards District. Bill Brady is showing artists from here, there (New York) and everywhere (LA), and word on the street (in the Star) is that the space “rival[s] many in New York.” Whatever that means. When they pull out pistols, of course Kansas […]

Asking For It

There were so many rooms in Chicago, and I was desperate to see all of them– the modern wing, the Grant Wood, all of it. I had been to the Art Institute ten years prior– I just didn’t remember anything but a room tinted blue and taking off one boot to touch my winter virgin […]

Fireflies

Told there would be a dance, I tried not to get too excited. The crowd is mostly white, and writers are pathologically tangled in their heads. Yet at the first sign of music, several white haired ladies are dancing all around like they’re at Woodstock. Then more and more folks. The DJ loves Stevie Wonder. […]