Portfolio

Sundries

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrel:
I try to avoid any book that I see people reading on the train. It's not so much a stance against popular culture as it is an egomaniacal need to feel above whatever it is others are interested in (I should probably take this up with a therapist sometime). When Susanna Clark's massive tome made its US debut, dozens of readers lugged it around for months. I wrote it off as an extension of the Harry Potter phenomenon and thought nothing more of it. A pity, really, as now that I'm lugging the book around myself, I find it quite engaging. With lots of characters, side-stores and footnotes (that go on for pages) Clark has crafted a pleasant world to get lost in.

A Young Adult Novel that I Cannot Mention:
A dear friend just signed a two book deal with a respected publisher. I was honered to read the first draft and offered lots of suggestions and notes. Fortunately, the book really is good. There's nothing worse than having to tell a friend that their book, band, artwork, poetry, or similar expression is . . . really great! No, really, you're totally talented!

I've been in that position more than once. It's hard to maintain a pleasant countenance when, deep down, you feel rather nauseous about the whole thing. This experience was pleasantly different. I'll plug it when it's actually in book stores. For now, I've been sworn to secrecy.

Chris Thomas King
In college, I spent countless hours listening to old, scratchy recordings of blues and folk music. I'd scores of albums, many of them from the amazing Smithsonian Folkways catalog. Sadly, in the days before albums were easily ripped to hard drive, I sold the entirety of my collection to (a very happy) used record store. I needed the cash to support an incredibly stupid relationship. Chris Thomas King, with his extraordinary rendition of the classics, has reunited me with the music that once meant so much to me. I've more or less forgotten about the girl.

His Name is Alive
Fuzzy, geek-synth, electronica from Michigan. With sexy vocals. I downloaded Detrola the other day but have yet to listen to it extensively. I think it's good, but it requires a certain situation (and headphones) to be properly appreciated.

Information Aesthetics
I've been on the job interview circuit for the last couple of months. In countless conversations I'm asked "What sites to you read regularly? Where do you draw inspiration?" The answer, inevitably, is Information Aesthetics. It's the sort of site that looks great to prospective employers and has the benefit of actually being a source of great inspiration.

Journal

Thursday, April 13

BRIGHT LIGHTS, BLUE LINE
Graduate students don’t often own cars. As a demographic, we’re known for consuming off brand Ramen noodles and worrying about student debt and rent payments. A car? Not a chance. Grad students travel by CTA.

Each morning, I board the red line at Berwyn, switch to the blue line at Jackson and then to the #8 Halsted bus. It’s an hour long process that gets me from my apartment in Andersonville to my workplace and classrooms at UIC. To save a few seconds on the blue line to bus transfer (there’s nothing worse than seeing your bus depart while saddled with heavy books) I always make sure that I’m on the last car as it’s nearest the East exit of the UIC/Halsted station.

This means that while waiting on my second train of the morning I stand at a strange, interstitial place on the platform; not quite at Jackson and yet far removed from the Monroe station. Often, even during the morning rush, I’m the only person there. It’s a surreal experience to have a wide open space, dozens of columns and an arched ceiling all to myself.

Today, however, I had company. CTA employees, clad in their bright yellow vests, accompanied by a few men wearing suits and snappy ties. The vests held ladders as the suits teetered over the tracks. They were holding banks of blue, LED lights such that they cast a pleasant glow on the roof of the tunnel and reflected nicely off the chrome of passing trains (which had to travel at a much reduced speed to accomodate them).

I approached one of the suits.

“What are you working on here? Is this an effort to beautify the station?”

“We’re just experimenting” he replied.

“Experimenting with ways to decorate the station with interesting lighting?”

“Yes,” he said “we’re looking at ways to make the station more attractive.”

Together, we turned as the men on ladders adjusted the lights, varying their angle and position. It reminded me of the recent Dan Flavin exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art. I could see the potential. The lighting would be sleek and modern. A perfect complement to the Helmut Jahn designed O’Hare station at the end of the line. But something wasn’t quite right.

“What of all this talk about doomsday budget cuts and fare increases? Doesn’t this seem like a waste of resources?”

At this, his lips pressed together and he turned away. Seemingly concerned with a technical detail he walked off without responding. Fortunately, another employee overheard our conversation. He cocked his head slightly to call me aside.

“Actually, this isn’t really endorsed by the CTA.”

“No?” I asked “Is it coming from the big man at City Hall?”

“That’s what it looks like.” He replied.

I was born in Chicago. Though I remember the days of Jane Byrne and Harold Washington, Richard M. Daley is really the only mayor I’ve ever known. In elementary school, my classmates and I joined him in welcoming a shipment of tulip bulbs from Holland. It was part of an effort to beautify the city that has continued throughout his tenure.

I like tulips. I like wrought iron fences too. Attractive lighting at the Jackson station sounds like a great idea! But these amenities shouldn’t come at the expense of commuters. Money spent on pretty lights ought, one would think, be used to stave off fare increases and improve service. Of course, that’s not usually how things work. As the automated voice says: This is Chicago.