Today, I enjoyed a rare treat: going to the Hopper/Homer exhibit at the Art Institute, without the kids. And with an art historian (her specialty is the Italian Renaissance, but no matter), so it was like, nay better than, having my own docent. We spent quite a long time wandering around the exhibit, and we skipped the Homer rooms entirely. Like many Chicagoans, I have always loved Nighthawks; it's starkness and unfinished conversation are just so compelling. But until the show, I never really saw much of Hopper's other works. I found it interesting that he really manipulated the angle to make buildings look much more desolate than they (perhaps?) really were. I found myself drawn to many of the architectural paintings he did during his summers in Gloucester, Maine, and Cape Cod.
Afterwards, my friend and I walked up Michigan Avenue a bit to Starbuck's, where we each had a drink and chatted for a long time about work, school, pregnancy, her children, Chicago, and Texas. The Blue Line is finally running at regular speed, so I got home in about 1/2 an hour.
And where was everyone else while I enjoyed a cultural check-up at the 'Toot? In Uptown. With their uncle, who we call Uncle Bad. I've decided it's short for Uncle Bad Influence, as they all came home acting like it was funny to see how many times they could slip the word "butthole" into conversation. But anyway...they did have a good time. The Baby took a long nap in his stroller. The Boy and The Girl went to the park and ate ice cream with Uncle Bad and The Dad. Although The Boy reported that they did not have a "crazy dance party," a signature Uncle Bad activity during football game playdates.