on a saturday night
So guys, I wasn't kidding, have a picspam about weird things in downtown Chicago. Someday I will make posts with text in them once again, but I guess today just isn't that day.
I have never been terribly good at taking photos and probably never will, plus the angle a lot of these shots are at made it difficult to brace my arms to keep the camera steady. I think I did pretty well altogether, though, and my mom is always wanting me to take my own photos of everything, including Zac Efron. So . . . hi, mom :D?
ANYWAY.
THE CHRIS NOLAN WAS RIGHT, OR, NO REALLY YOU GUYS I LIVE IN A GODDAMN COMIC BOOK IT'S NO WONDER I HAVE NIGHTMARES PICSPAM
Part 1: Buildings of Dubious Aesthetic Advisability
Fig. 1. This is the Harold Washington Library, which looks more blatantly designed by committee than anything else I have ever seen. The roof doesn't match the rest of the building, and the decoration is about twice as big as it ought to be. The interior, which I couldn't get photos of, is all sleek marble and fussy brass curlicues. the lobby has tapered columns, which are supposed to give an illusion of height, and then a giant blocky ceiling with enormous painted decoration which looks bulky enough to not only ruin the illusion but to make me feel like it's going to fall down any second. It's a very good library, but architecturally it makes me anxious.
Fig. 2. There are plenty of excellent uses for neo-Gothic architecture. In my humble opinion, a plain rectangular office block is not one of them.
Fig. 3. Rumor-- by which I mean newredshoes, who is in fact a very knowledgeable lady-- has it that the Smurfit-Stone building's architect thought skyscrapers were too phallic and wanted to design a building that looked like a vagina instead. I was a little doubtful of this story, at first, and then I suddenly got the point of the sculpture in the entryway on street level.
Fig. 4. At which point I said to myself: "Hot damn, self, this building has a clitoris."
Incidentally, on Saturday night when I took most of these photos, the IOC was in town deciding whether we can be trusted with the 2016 Games or not, which is why a couple of photos show buildings lit up to say 2016. There were signs and banners everywhere, too. I would totally be all for the Olympic spirit thing if they weren't planning to build the stadium in Washington Park, which is a historically protected something-or-other and also one block from my building. Dear IOC: if you're reading this, please give the 2016 Games to someone else, I don't want to have to find a new neighborhood to live in.
Fig. 5. I'm not sure exactly what thought process went into this. "Hey, you know what this perfectly normal granite office building needs? A row of Corinthian columns at the top! Just because we can!"
Fig. 6 I don't understand the top of this building, and I won't respond to it.
Part 2: Buildings of Dubious Reality
Fig. 7. What weirds me out about a bunch of the skyscrapers in downtown Chicago is how belligerently geometric they are. It's not enough just to be tall and rectangular, there have to be as many straight lines as possible added in just for the sake of having straight lines. And the end result is that buildings like the NBC headquarters end up looking over-stylized and flat, even when you're standing right next to them; quite literally, it looks like they were cut out of a Batman comic and pasted into the real world.
Figs. 8-9. These two have pretty much the same visual effect for me.
Fig. 10. The Carbon and Carbide Building, also known as the Hard Rock Hotel, also known as a seriously epic-looking building.
Fig. 11. I think this is Trump Tower? Regardless, I think we can all agree that it is obviously far too badass-looking to ever fit into a single photograph.
Interlude
Fig. 12. This is the south facade of the Art Institute, but if you happen to be coming north up Michigan Avenue-- as I was last night-- it looks like some ancient Greeks happened to wander through downtown and leave a little temple behind sitting on its own. With all due respect to the Art Institute, I think I like my explanation better.
Figs. 13-14. The Greeks made a stop in Millenium Park on their way home, I guess.
Part 3: Non-Buildings of Dubious Intention
Fig. 15. I don't know what this railing thinks it's doing, but I desperately wish it would stop.
Fig. 16. This is the fountain in Millenium Park. Most of the time it shows people's faces, with the water flowing out from their mouths; at this point it happened to be showing video of flowing water. Until last night, I didn't know fountains could be metatextual, but I guess they can! In any case, it doesn't glow nearly that brightly IRL; it's just that when I tried to photograph it it kept going OM NOM NOM LIGHT and turning out a lot more freaky-looking in photographic form than in person.
Fig. 17. At night it's switched off, and the pillars just sit there looking huge and glittery and like they wandered out of an Arthur C. Clarke novel.
Figs. 18-19. This is an outdoor concert space-- I'm sure it has a name, but I don't know it. As giant outdoor concert spaces that look like weirdly stylized scrap heaps go, it's pretty neat. Plus I'm pleased with how my photos of it turned out.
Fig. 20. I don't know what this is. I think it's supposed to be a fountain, but it's stuck out in the middle of nowhere on the divider on an overpass, and having been past it dozens of times (it's between Michigan and my usual movie theater) I don't think I've ever seen water coming out. A far more likely explanation is that it's somehow in collusion with this next thing.
Fig. 21. This sculpture is called Cloud Gate, which worries me all by itself, because it makes me think of the cloud wall in Winter's Tale that would sweep through Manhattan, pick people up, and deposit them in other times. In theory, it's a wonderful example of designing an outdoor sculpture to interact with its environment; in practice I don't like it. I don't like the way it looks kind of blurry around the edges, I don't like the way it sucks the light of the entire skyline into a single smooth curve so you can't even see the rest of the sculpture at night. When I say downtown Chicago gives me nightmares, I mean the Cloud Gate specifically, because I keep dreaming that it comes to life and starts growing even bigger and starts swallowing people or talking to them or something.
Fig. 22. Walking underneath it doesn't really help the fear of being swallowed, because there's no sense of scale down there; it takes maybe half a dozen steps to get from one side to the other, but it doesn't look like you're getting anywhere. This shot was looking basically straight up; I didn't adjust the ridiculous yellow tinge my camera gave it, like I did with some other photos, because it only makes it creepier the way it came out looking like a bunch of little tiny mes trapped in amber.
And In Conclusion, A Word Of Advice From Our Sponsor
Fig. 23. Don't look away. Don't even blink.
I have never been terribly good at taking photos and probably never will, plus the angle a lot of these shots are at made it difficult to brace my arms to keep the camera steady. I think I did pretty well altogether, though, and my mom is always wanting me to take my own photos of everything, including Zac Efron. So . . . hi, mom :D?
ANYWAY.
THE CHRIS NOLAN WAS RIGHT, OR, NO REALLY YOU GUYS I LIVE IN A GODDAMN COMIC BOOK IT'S NO WONDER I HAVE NIGHTMARES PICSPAM
Part 1: Buildings of Dubious Aesthetic Advisability
Fig. 1. This is the Harold Washington Library, which looks more blatantly designed by committee than anything else I have ever seen. The roof doesn't match the rest of the building, and the decoration is about twice as big as it ought to be. The interior, which I couldn't get photos of, is all sleek marble and fussy brass curlicues. the lobby has tapered columns, which are supposed to give an illusion of height, and then a giant blocky ceiling with enormous painted decoration which looks bulky enough to not only ruin the illusion but to make me feel like it's going to fall down any second. It's a very good library, but architecturally it makes me anxious.
Fig. 2. There are plenty of excellent uses for neo-Gothic architecture. In my humble opinion, a plain rectangular office block is not one of them.
Fig. 3. Rumor-- by which I mean newredshoes, who is in fact a very knowledgeable lady-- has it that the Smurfit-Stone building's architect thought skyscrapers were too phallic and wanted to design a building that looked like a vagina instead. I was a little doubtful of this story, at first, and then I suddenly got the point of the sculpture in the entryway on street level.
Fig. 4. At which point I said to myself: "Hot damn, self, this building has a clitoris."
Incidentally, on Saturday night when I took most of these photos, the IOC was in town deciding whether we can be trusted with the 2016 Games or not, which is why a couple of photos show buildings lit up to say 2016. There were signs and banners everywhere, too. I would totally be all for the Olympic spirit thing if they weren't planning to build the stadium in Washington Park, which is a historically protected something-or-other and also one block from my building. Dear IOC: if you're reading this, please give the 2016 Games to someone else, I don't want to have to find a new neighborhood to live in.
Fig. 5. I'm not sure exactly what thought process went into this. "Hey, you know what this perfectly normal granite office building needs? A row of Corinthian columns at the top! Just because we can!"
Fig. 6 I don't understand the top of this building, and I won't respond to it.
Part 2: Buildings of Dubious Reality
Fig. 7. What weirds me out about a bunch of the skyscrapers in downtown Chicago is how belligerently geometric they are. It's not enough just to be tall and rectangular, there have to be as many straight lines as possible added in just for the sake of having straight lines. And the end result is that buildings like the NBC headquarters end up looking over-stylized and flat, even when you're standing right next to them; quite literally, it looks like they were cut out of a Batman comic and pasted into the real world.
Figs. 8-9. These two have pretty much the same visual effect for me.
Fig. 10. The Carbon and Carbide Building, also known as the Hard Rock Hotel, also known as a seriously epic-looking building.
Fig. 11. I think this is Trump Tower? Regardless, I think we can all agree that it is obviously far too badass-looking to ever fit into a single photograph.
Interlude
Fig. 12. This is the south facade of the Art Institute, but if you happen to be coming north up Michigan Avenue-- as I was last night-- it looks like some ancient Greeks happened to wander through downtown and leave a little temple behind sitting on its own. With all due respect to the Art Institute, I think I like my explanation better.
Figs. 13-14. The Greeks made a stop in Millenium Park on their way home, I guess.
Part 3: Non-Buildings of Dubious Intention
Fig. 15. I don't know what this railing thinks it's doing, but I desperately wish it would stop.
Fig. 16. This is the fountain in Millenium Park. Most of the time it shows people's faces, with the water flowing out from their mouths; at this point it happened to be showing video of flowing water. Until last night, I didn't know fountains could be metatextual, but I guess they can! In any case, it doesn't glow nearly that brightly IRL; it's just that when I tried to photograph it it kept going OM NOM NOM LIGHT and turning out a lot more freaky-looking in photographic form than in person.
Fig. 17. At night it's switched off, and the pillars just sit there looking huge and glittery and like they wandered out of an Arthur C. Clarke novel.
Figs. 18-19. This is an outdoor concert space-- I'm sure it has a name, but I don't know it. As giant outdoor concert spaces that look like weirdly stylized scrap heaps go, it's pretty neat. Plus I'm pleased with how my photos of it turned out.
Fig. 20. I don't know what this is. I think it's supposed to be a fountain, but it's stuck out in the middle of nowhere on the divider on an overpass, and having been past it dozens of times (it's between Michigan and my usual movie theater) I don't think I've ever seen water coming out. A far more likely explanation is that it's somehow in collusion with this next thing.
Fig. 21. This sculpture is called Cloud Gate, which worries me all by itself, because it makes me think of the cloud wall in Winter's Tale that would sweep through Manhattan, pick people up, and deposit them in other times. In theory, it's a wonderful example of designing an outdoor sculpture to interact with its environment; in practice I don't like it. I don't like the way it looks kind of blurry around the edges, I don't like the way it sucks the light of the entire skyline into a single smooth curve so you can't even see the rest of the sculpture at night. When I say downtown Chicago gives me nightmares, I mean the Cloud Gate specifically, because I keep dreaming that it comes to life and starts growing even bigger and starts swallowing people or talking to them or something.
Fig. 22. Walking underneath it doesn't really help the fear of being swallowed, because there's no sense of scale down there; it takes maybe half a dozen steps to get from one side to the other, but it doesn't look like you're getting anywhere. This shot was looking basically straight up; I didn't adjust the ridiculous yellow tinge my camera gave it, like I did with some other photos, because it only makes it creepier the way it came out looking like a bunch of little tiny mes trapped in amber.
And In Conclusion, A Word Of Advice From Our Sponsor
Fig. 23. Don't look away. Don't even blink.