going to chicago with my three children made me understand how much growing i have to do as a person. being in the AI on michigan avenue among all those who have lived way more intensely than i do. seeking beauty. exposing the ugliness of some realities. manifesting divinity in icons and poetry.

when i lived in nola there was an annual exhibit called 'no dead artists'. ...meaning that the exhibit was filled with all living artists... and that they were great. and they were. the shows were beautiful and profound. the irony being that most of the artists were broke of course. during opening nights, no one cared anyway. the night was theirs. magazine street was theirs. new orleans was theirs... all for the embracing.

my children and i were looking for the jeff wall exhibit at the AI when we walked through the surrealism rooms. the kids looked at decaying figures and red eggs and cringed. just couldn't figure out what the attraction was. even though, to me, it looked just like the stuff they were working on with their crayolas in the car on the way. the real irony with these surrealists is that they wanted to create a group - even went to the trouble to write a *manifesto*. what a goofy term. shoot me if i ever decide to write a *manifesto*, okay? anyway. so they decided to make a revolutionary party of people that would be anti-organization, anti-party, anti-group....what were they thinking?

my new friend who i went to visit while in chicago that day reminded me of all this. a non-conformer. reminding me also that often times it is those who think and act independently are the ones who get the most done and do it well. yea... he wouldn't join my group. luckily, i could understand. we are a group of individuals anyway...ha ha ... isn't that a band?

i ramble.

while we were there visiting his office i couldn't help but notice a large group of students wander in. funny how when your drinking milk you never really think about meeting the man who made the drawing that is on the carton. i never saw so many lighbulbs go off and mouths open and listen to so many oohs and ahhs...and that wasn't even the really cool stuff. that was on the easel, on the walls, and in the drawers.

the anonymity of the artist.

so my kids and i went to lincoln park afterward. luckily the conservatory was open for a quick bathroom break. that's what my house will look like when i grow up, by the way. flagstone paths, butterflies, sunlight, dirt, fountains and 20 ft palm trees. then to the paddle boats. then ..the walk. oh and how they were just going to die and how their feet hurt and wah wah wah... until...the lake. and magically they were running and jumping and laughing and splashing. i guess they are going to live afterall. i am constantly amazed.