EXPO and Loud Birds
Bullet points on starting a newsletter, winding through EXPO Chicago, and urban spring
Image that may or may not show up is “The moon in june”, 2021, by Aaron Maier-Carretero, spotted at EXPO Chicago and too large to fit into my camera frame.
Everyone is on substack!!!!! Not everyone is actually on Substack, but for a twenty-something who blames lack of motivation to write on the fact that she “was born too early” to appreciate the golden blogging age of the 2000s that would have catapulted her to SJP/Tavi Gevinson fame of course, this feels like the place to either prove that she’s really just unmotivated or for humble newsletters to blossom into a pithy, well-read column that shapes society for the better—forever. I’m writing here every week and setting a tentative publish date for Tuesday morning: Sunday to write, Monday to sulk/edit, Tuesday to post. Today is Wednesday, so we’re off to a great start. It will be fun for at least one of us (me).
The weekend: EXPO. Chicago’s big EXPO event was last weekend. I went on Sunday, which is the last, most tired day. At EXPO, major Chicago and international galleries exhibit works of art in white booths at Navy Pier. It’s honestly really hard to find the entrance on foot, because it’s closer to the end of the pier where there is mostly wind and concrete. Anyone can attend EXPO, but it should first be understood that the general public is lowest in the food chain. The event is there for collectors, gallerists, and the one white rich couple who stood awkwardly on the curb while two gallery interns struggled to load a teetering, wax paper-wrapped canvas into the detailed trunk of a 2025 Limited Range Rover (or comparable car model; you get the picture). Artists visiting EXPO are the lowest priority at the event, and I don’t say this out of condemnation; it’s just that most of them either (a) have no money, and/or (b) think “it’s enough just to look at it and soak it all in.”
Some noted trends in the art on display: Mid-tones, interiors, cool green-pink combos, thick-bodied acrylic marks, linen/burlap as canvas.
Some notes on attendee style: more business professional than expected, good “laffy taffy” pink, “I’m still carrying this plastic cup around because this fucking drink cost $23,” knits, occasional mesh.
Early spring has an edge. Everything feels condensed. Birdsong has the volume and intensity of chaos, as all of it is directed from the 1’x1’ square of grass to the left of our window where the birds are arguing over real estate in the sun. There is plant growth in some corners of branches but it’s mostly still mud that smells questionable. Melted snow leaves behind well-preserved trash in the park—which on a walk is Ody’s heaven, my horror. There are specific phenomena that come with this particular window of time, most notably the open door policy, in which you can open every single opening in your home to the outdoors without inviting in too many insects. There is also the extended wardrobe syndrome, which occurs when a week holds days both below freezing and up into the daring 60’s, and which means that both winter and summer clothes are all sprawled out over every chair, shoe rack, surface you own. This can lead to fire hazard or anxiety, but can both remind you of the need to cull and lead to some inventive combinations that you will enjoy in the moment and regret in a few months when your seasonal fashion sense has regained its stride. Again, we have forgotten to prune the branches around our yard back in time, and the flowers and new leaves are hanging at lanky angles off of the long ends of skeletal growth—but they are there, which is the most important thing.
Wonderful!