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Chicago Tribune
21-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Review: ‘City in a Garden' spans decades of local LGBTQ art and activism at the MCA
This summer in Chicago, three of the city's most prominent art spaces are presenting major exhibitions with LGBTQ themes. One is scholarly: 'The First Homosexuals,' featuring hundreds of artworks that explore the creation of homosexuality as an identity between the years 1869 and 1939, at Wrightwood 659. One is historical: 'Gustave Caillebotte: Painting Men,' a blockbuster touring retrospective on the Impressionist master, disappointingly retitled by the Art Institute as 'Painting His World.' One brings it all up to date and back home: the MCA's 'City in a Garden: Queer Art and Activism in Chicago,' a messy, exuberant gathering of painting, sculpture, photography, film and ephemera stretching from the 1980s to the present day. Art exhibitions do not happen overnight. They take years of planning, especially when they involve deep research and international loans. A confluence of such shows on a related subject is a rare occurrence, worth paying attention to as evidence of profound cultural shifts. In Chicago right now, the evidence points to the importance and durability of LGBTQ rights and realities, despite aggressive conservative political agendas. Much of what makes 'City in a Garden' so contemporary is the wide embrace of the word 'queer' taken by curator Jack Schneider, who organized the exhibit with Korina Hernandez. Once an insult applied to gays and lesbians, the term was reclaimed starting in the '80s and has since expanded beyond same-sex sexuality to include any sexual orientation or gender identity not corresponding to heterosexual norms — but also, more broadly, to a general refusal of categorization and mainstreaming. So 'City in a Garden' is only partly a survey of art made by artists who identify as gay, lesbian or transgender; it is also, more experimentally, a consideration of artworks that are themselves queer in one way or another. Sometimes the relevance is clear, like a quartet of photos taken by Doug Ischar in 1985 of men tanning and embracing on the Belmont Rocks, a gay beach scene the artist documented as much as belonged to. Diana Solis, Patric McCoy and Luis Medina also photographed their own communities and spaces. But sometimes the criteria for inclusion are murkier, as in Catherine Opie's opalescent views of Lake Michigan, one for each season, hung with their horizons in line. Opie rose to prominence for her formal studio portraits of California's queer communities, but she is also a serious landscape photographer, and the curators ask interesting questions by putting that work here. Does Opie reveal something radical about the lake through the way she frames it, as an ever-changing entity of constant fluidity? Could Lake Michigan be queer? Throughout the show, tension recurs between fabulousness and death. It probably could not be otherwise, given that the show's timeline begins amid the AIDS crisis; too many of the artists, and those they pictured, did not survive that era, or they did but died years later from complications related to living with HIV/AIDS. Roger Brown's 1983 disco painting of a skeleton in a naughty leather cap embodies both extremes. Chiffon Thomas' silicone cast of a torso — blackened with charcoal dust, pounded with nails and braced with rebar — exists somewhere painful but consensual between S&M culture and transition surgery. Even Nick Cave's gorgeous 'Soundsuit' from 2008, a sculpture that outfits its wearer in a head-to-toe bodysuit of crochet doilies, includes an upper-body cage abloom in tin flowers. That might not be death, but it's a whole lot of difficulty and claustrophobia masked by beauty. Likewise Guanyu Xu's takeover of his parents' Beijing dining room from the 2018 photography series 'Temporary Censored Home': though living in Chicago as a gay man, Xu had not come out to his parents and could only fully inhabit their apartment when they were out and he fleetingly filled a room with images of his foreign life and work. Some of the most exciting artworks here are strange, hybrid things. Faysal Altunbozar's bird feeders-cum-dildos offer hilarious tribute to one of Chicago's most scenic cruising spots, the Montrose Point Bird Sanctuary. Mary Stoppert's puzzling sculpture of a spiked hand emerging from a white calla lily, all expertly carved from a single block of wood, teases delightfully. It is unclear what exactly Jeanne Dunning has photographed in 'The Pink,' a 6-foot-tall photograph of a glistening, oozy red substance that nauseates with its subcutaneous fleshiness but might be just grapefruit segments. William J. O'Brien clutters a table with his own weight in mementoes and his unabashedly bright, ugly ceramics in a speculative self-portrait arguably more accurate than a typical likeness. At the heart of the exhibition are local collectives. Some used artsy tactics for political action, others political tools for art making. From 1993-95, the group Haha maintained a storefront in Rogers Park that grew hydroponic greens and herbs for HIV/AIDS patients, providing free biweekly meals and events. In 2004, the Pilot TV collective came together in a Bridgeport three-flat over four intense days to temporarily create a cooperative 'transfeminist' television studio, producing 35 talk shows, cooking classes, dramas and more. Most crucial of all was ACT/UP Chicago, part of a national grassroots network whose members worked tirelessly, creatively and at great risk to bring attention to the AIDS crisis as it was being fatally ignored by the U.S. government. A sprawling, glam newspaper collage by Hunter Reynolds commemorates the chapter's work, as does a display case full of ephemera, the highlight of which is a T-shirt showing a woman with her face buried in another woman's crotch under the words 'Power Breakfast.' Designed by Mary Patten and Jeanne Kracher, it was a fundraising bestseller. Imaging the future of trans healthcare — and plastering it across the MCA'City in a Garden' ends on a dreamy but utterly knowing note. How could it not, given the extraordinary advances in queer rights and protections achieved since the Reagan era and the enormous threats currently posed by the Trump administration? Four cheery architectural renderings from Edie Fake's 'Memory Palace' series fictionalize bold storefronts for real organizations from Chicago's LGBTQ past that, like the abortion counseling service Jane, necessarily existed mostly underground. In many places in the U.S. today, they have to all over again. The final artwork is Paul Heyer's shimmery painting of a cowboy, larger than life, gently crouching to scoop water from the ground. It would be simply romantic except for five huge white circles that sit atop the image and threaten to obliterate it. That must never happen, and with shows like 'City in a Garden' to help remember and envision, it surely won't.
Chicago Tribune
09-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Laura Washington: The Art Institute is slowly getting back to normal
The lions at the Art Institute of Chicago must be smiling. It's about time. In this space three years ago, I excoriated the famed museum for a myriad of reasons. The iconic felines that guard the museum's entrance shared my unhappiness. We were dismayed by the state of Chicago's premiere art palace, for everything from closing its doors for two days a week to shutting down its restaurants and food services, and firing the docents who provided tours and hosted thousands of visitors so diligently for so many years. It seemed that our venerable art museum had reached its nadir. Back then, the whole city was struggling to escape the pandemic. For Chicago, its economy, artistic ecosystem and cultural ethos, this was a major concern. The lions roared, and disapprobation was their message. The Art Institute, Chicago's most celebrated cultural institution, sits on the city's front porch. Yet, it was not there when it was needed most, leaving an unwelcome vacuum in the heart of the city. The Art Institute is on Chicago's 'ultimate bucket list,' according to Choose Chicago. 'Explore the Art Institute of Chicago to admire one of the largest collections of Impressionist art outside the Louvre and the stunning modern art wing,' declares the Choose Chicago website. Now it's back, and the lions and I are happy, less cranky, as things are getting back to normal. Witness the museum's hours. The feebleness of those hours was shocking. It is now open on Wednesdays and is operating six days a week. That's a big step. Few other world-class museums would dare to be closed two days a week. The museum still needs to get back to seven days, but hopefully, that's a work in progress. Downtown needs all the juice it can get. This development brings a shadow of a smile to the lions. They may not be ready to roar, but they are up for an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. And guess what? Now, you can meet a friend and catch a lunch at the Art Institute. The cafe has finally reopened. The outdoor fountain where my beloved mother and I dined for so many summer afternoons is back. This serene and classic Chicago spot has been restored. The sound of the water tinkling on the fountain's bronze statues makes my heart flutter. Something I lost has been found. The museum's restaurant, however, is a work in progress. It's lame. Overpriced. Impersonal. Corporate. I'll leave it at that. The new members lounge is two steps forward, one step back. The old space was always too crowded, too small. Often you would arrive to relax but there was nowhere to sit. The new space, which replaced the shuttered Terzo Piano restaurant on the third floor of the Modern Wing, is bright and spacious. There's no problem finding a table. The view is lovely. The Michigan Avenue curtain wall is visible to the west with Grant Park to the east. I have another beef — the lounge has the character of a Marriott Extended Stay lobby breakfast space. Just add a microwave. There are brighter spots. My top pick shows the museum is back in full swing. Or should I say full repose? The museum's Ando Gallery beckons us with silence and thoughtfully curated Japanese and Korean objects of distinction. The gallery, populated with 16 pillars, is a serene space of inspiration and reflection. You can feel the good vibe throughout the building. It would be the perfect place to hold yoga and meditation classes. Now, there's an idea! Another piece of uncanny interest is this summer's offering, Raqib Shaw's elaborate allegorical painting, 'Paradise Lost.' Shaw is a painter born in Calcutta and raised in Kashmir. The exhibit of the painting opened June 7. His 100-foot-wide, 21-panel piece is literally the work of a lifetime. It illuminates the picaresque stories of an artist's journey into the maze of his imagination. In the words of the artist, it is 'my journey from youth to decrepitude and death and beyond.' The lions will tell you. There's no pussyfooting around. The Art Institute is back.
ABC News
07-07-2025
- General
- ABC News
Why we should keep fewer thoughts to ourselves — and other things I've learned from Agnes Callard - ABC Religion & Ethics
Few would challenge the notion that, in order to properly think a question through, we need at least some time alone with our thoughts . Some might even claim we can't think for ourselves unless we are thinking by ourselves. But a new book by a public philosopher, based on the wisdom of an ancient philosopher, reminds us that inviting others to 'intrude' into our 'private mental world' and think with us, makes sense. In her book Open Socrates: The Case for a Philosophical Life , Agnes Callard describes thinking as 'the road from ignorance about the most important things to knowledge about them'. By travelling with another — asking questions and testing answers, refuting and being refuted, using two heads instead of one — we have more hope, not less, of getting at the truth. Callard's 'love affair' with Socrates began in high school. It led her to not only study ancient Greek history in college, but to learn ancient Greek as well. The notion that inquiry is 'a social process', and an interlocutor a vital tool, struck her as having relevance beyond the academic realm. And so, at the age of 21, having decided Chicago's equivalent of the Athenian agora was the steps of its Art Institute, she went there and started asking people if they'd like to have a philosophical conversation. To Callard's surprise, most said 'yes'. She'd follow up with a question such as: 'What is art?', 'What is courage?' or 'What is the meaning of life?' The Art Institute of Chicago on 9 July 2022. (Photo By Raymond Boyd / Getty Images) But where, in the Socratic dialogues, people answered with quick, confident answers that Socrates refuted in a manner that paved the way for an extended inquiry, Callard says her dialogues 'never really got off the ground': The people I talked to seemed put off by my approach, confused about my intentions, and, in truth, somewhat afraid of me. They felt trapped, and I felt not at all like Socrates. Looking back, she notes that deep conversations about the meaning of life and how we should live require a level of vulnerability, self-exposure and trust that doesn't lend itself to conversation with a stranger whose motives are unclear. If such a stranger 'claimed that they would immediately adopt your way of living, if only you explained it to them, you might think they were only acting, or pretending, or somehow making fun of you, or being ironic', Callard writes. Some of Socrates's own interlocutors 'felt sure that he was always preserving an ironic distance from them', she notes, holding 'the life of his mind apart from theirs'. But in Callard's view, the philosopher's most 'radical feature' wasn't 'godlike hidden wisdom' but his willingness to 'put all his cards on the table', make himself vulnerable and treat others as sources of knowledge. If she's right, there's no such thing as Socratic irony — save the fact that 'the man who hid his thoughts from others less than perhaps anyone in the whole history of the world should have come to be credited with the concept'. Knowing what you don't know Confucius asserted that knowing what you know, and what you don't , is 'true' knowledge. Socrates spoke about how ignorant he was of what he didn't know. Nowadays, pie-charts that divide knowledge into what we 'know we know', 'know we don't know', 'don't know we don't know' and even 'don't know we know' remind us how little we can be sure of, how much remains uncertain, how high the bar Confucius set must be. 'We are all of us irrational, divided, opaque and oblique creatures', physician Karen Hitchcock wrote in her 2015 Quarterly Essay Dear Life : We communicate in a multitude of ways: with our eyes and hands and bodies and heart rate, as well as with words we may or may not mean. We may ask for — think we want — the opposite of what we wish for. We change our minds. What's more, Hitchcock says, this is 'what it is to be human'. Whatever we know, we know it as people bound by time and space, experience, education and intellect, to name but a few of our many limits. We're influenced by our upbringing, our surroundings, our emotions, our relationships, our bodies — we can't escape our subjectivity. As theologian Michael Jensen puts it, 'we know as knowers who are ourselves a part of what we know': We cannot transcend the things we seek to know. The historian is herself an historical being; the biologist is part of a biological system. The psychologist has his neuroses, too. Anything we seek to know, we know from within. Physicist Carlo Rovelli says we can never have total certainty — and don't need it: 'Between full ignorance and total certainty there is a vast intermediate space where we conduct our lives.' Jensen likewise notes that the fact we know so partially doesn't mean history makes no sense, or the world contains no meaning, or that we can't know anything. Truth and falsehood, right and wrong, aren't always easy to discern, but they're not relative. And Rovelli says that while we can't have 'total' certainty, we can strive to gather more reliable knowledge over time; we can be genuinely open to the questioning of our beliefs, the most reliable of which should 'survive' questioning. 'This is the core teaching of scientific thinking', he writes. But not only scientific thinking. A social quest for better answers 'There are parts of my body whose invisibility follows from how I usually position myself in order to look out at the world', Callard notes. We can contort ourselves to bring some of those parts into view, she says, but we can't ever eliminate all our blind spots all at once. We can consider the possibility we are wrong, we can even realise we were wrong; we can replace less 'stable' answers with more stable ones — the 'lever' is available: The problem is that the set of occasions when people most need to pull it — when they are wrong about something fundamentally important, something that approaches the heart of how they live their lives — are also the occasions when the lever seems stuck. She goes so far as to suggest most searches 'aim to arrive neither at what I know, nor at what I don't know, but at a way to keep doing what I was doing before I ran into a problem'. This is why she conceives of thinking as 'a social quest'. Not only is it a social quest, it's a quest for better answers to 'the sorts of questions that show up for us already answered'. The questions that matter most in life are often the most difficult to think about, she explains. The answers have a bearing not only on how we should live, but how, in any given moment — including the moment in which we ask the question — we are living. It's easy to have my thinking challenged when the question is trivial and the stakes are low, or to change my ethical position when it suits me. It's harder when the answer might demand that I start thinking — living — differently. It was easy for me, before I had savings and an income, to define 'the rich' as anyone with an income and some savings who could feed their family and pay their bills. It was easy, then, to hold that the rich should give the bulk of their earnings to the poor. Now, it is tempting to define 'rich' differently, or to hold that the 'rich' should give away only a 'significant proportion', not 'the bulk' of what they earn — or to simply set such thinking to one side. Callard — who devotes two chapters to politics (one to justice and one to liberty), one to equality, one to love and one to death — says the most interesting and elusive questions in life are the 'load bearing' ones: 'the ones whose answers we must give at every moment of our lives, for their whole duration'. What does it mean to commit to a relationship for life? Is it 'cheating' to 'write' essays using prompts? How should a parent raise a child? If we are already married, or already using AI to write essays, or already raising a child, there's a sense in which we're already living an answer. If we wait for the right time to step back and examine questions 'marked by the fact we need answers to them before we are prepared to ask them', we might never really think them through: The human need to know how to live subjects us to its desperate logic: Because I must know it, it must be the case that I do know . The passionate confidence with which people are inclined to proclaim their ethical beliefs — often with little ability to defend those beliefs — stems not from flightiness but from a seriousness about the project of living their one and only life. Could it really be true that we will have to go through our whole lives, from birth to death, without ever knowing whether we are doing it right? The answer is yes. To live well, and to think well, to answer 'untimely questions' well, we need all the help we can get. And while we will inevitably answer another person from our own subjectivity, and another person will inevitably answer us from theirs — their perspective, and challenges, and refutations, might show us truth, or alert us to falsehood, that we wouldn't otherwise see. The moment we are wrong, we were wrong Accepting we are wrong is rare, indeed. According to Moore's paradox, no sooner have we done it and we're claiming to be right again. 'If you find yourself recollecting something you were wrong about in the past, what you are effectively doing is thinking about how right you are now', Callard explains. Then there's Meno's paradox, which asks how we can search for what we don't yet know. Alone, Callard writes, we 'fall prey' to the epistemic dilemma. 'But if you and I both have the same question yet different answers, a path opens up: we can test our answers against each other.' There might be levers that we cannot move alone, which with another person's help, begin to shift. And while, in a debate, the person who's refuted is the 'loser', in a Socratic dialogue, the person who's refuted can count the 'loss' as gain. If the ideal was achieved — which, depending on the minds, the motives, the mood, the culture, on any number of variables, won't always be the case — knowledge was too. The experience of being refuted isn't, Callard says, the same as changing one's mind, or suspending judgement. We can change our minds by simply forgetting or giving up an old view and coming to adopt a new stance, or a neutral one, in its place. To be refuted involves feeling ignorant, confused and perplexed — it's a distinct experience. To use the Socratic method of asking and answering, persuading and being persuaded, to inquire into important questions, requires a readiness to process, entertain or accommodate 'any and all kinds of thought' with an open mind that moves toward what's true and away from what is false. We might be tempted to gloss over the moment we realise we are wrong to the moment we can say we were once mistaken but now we're not. Yet Callard says that in a philosophical context (and, I would think, in other contexts) it is 'polite' to 'mark the transition'. We can do this with a pause, or by saying 'Okay' or 'I see now', or we can do it with a sentence that, while just two words — 'You're right' or 'I'm wrong' — marks a turning point. Living lives 'oriented toward knowledge' Only by admitting ignorance, or at least by being willing to, can we expect to grow less ignorant. Socrates claimed, and Callard agrees, that our inability to 'lead lives based on knowledge — because we lack it' isn't a reason to give up on acquiring it. We can still seek to live lives 'oriented toward' both thinking and knowledge. And, by being humble when we're right, and apologising when we're wrong, by being gracious and generous when we ask and when we answer, by letting one another make mistakes and try again, we might just foster the conditions that make the kind of thinking together that Callard envisions more likely. Callard is aware that in writing a book about how 'thinking is not something a person can do by herself' alone, she isn't exactly practising what she preaches. But the fact she is drawing on other people's thinking, enlisting other people's 'help', throughout the book — along with anecdotes and acknowledgements that suggest a pattern of engaging with interlocutors, whether friends or partners, colleagues or students, in her daily life — convinced me that if I invited her to think with me, she would. Based on her experience with strangers on the steps of the Art Institute steps, thinking with another might be easier said than done. We are 'inclined toward misunderstanding'; it is difficult to trust a stranger and be vulnerable. But in existing relationships, or other contexts where each party trusts the other person is engaging in good faith — not knowing who will refute who, or how; or what answers, if any, they will find — it could yet 'work'. The answers we come to accept with the help of another mind might be less convenient and more difficult than the ones we'd arrive at alone, but there's a decent chance they'll be closer to the truth. If thinking is a road, it's not one we should travel alone. Emma Wilkins is a Tasmanian journalist and freelance writer whose work has appeared in newspapers, magazines and literary journals in Australia and beyond.
Chicago Tribune
05-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Letters: Title of exhibition at the Art Institute smacks of whitewashing
As a longtime supporter of the Art Institute of Chicago and an admirer of Gustave Caillebotte's work, I must express my profound disappointment with the institute's decision to rename the recent joint exhibition — originally titled 'Painting Men' at the Musée d'Orsay and the Getty Museum — to the sanitized and evasive 'Painting His World' here in Chicago. Having visited the d'Orsay's presentation last fall, where 'Paris Street; Rainy Day' — a masterpiece shared between Chicago and Caillebotte — stood as a centerpiece, I was struck by the French curatorial approach: thoughtful, honest and open to interpretation. The title 'Painting Men' was not an imposition or a presumption; it was an acknowledgment of the artist's lifelong preoccupation with the male figure, urban masculinity, and male intimacy in public and private spaces. By contrast, the Art Institute's retitling feels like a disappointing act of erasure. The new title not only dulls the edge of inquiry but reinforces the notion that recognition of queerness — or even ambiguity — in an artist's work must be neutralized for the comfort of a presumed audience. Equally troubling was curator Gloria Groom's response during Thursday night's member preview, in which she dismissed any exploration of Caillebotte's possible queerness by claiming she would not 'presume' his sexuality. Yet acknowledging that Caillebotte painted men — overwhelmingly, repeatedly and with intimacy — is not presumption. It's fact. What the French curators did so well was allow space for interpretation without fear, offering viewers the dignity of their own intelligence. Chicagoans deserve better. We should not shrink from critical engagement or whitewash complexity in the name of palatability. It's disappointing to see the Art Institute — once a beacon for cultural leadership — kowtow to imagined donor discomfort or a conservative fear of thought-provoking conversation. Let's trust our audiences, as the French have, to explore the fullness of an artist's world — including the people who populated constructive criticism by Edward Keegan in the Tribune ('Chicago Fire stadium plans cry out for a bit of quirkiness,' June 25) regarding the design of the new soccer stadium and the surrounding land referred to as The 78 in Chicago's South Loop prompts reflection on the many proposals for this land development, the Bears' new stadium and the possible new home for the White Sox. The design of the stadium and surrounding area offers a breath of fresh air in a city teeming with ideas but coming up short on the delivery. As a self-made man, Fire owner Joe Mansueto will fund this project with his own money as he has done with other projects mentioned by Keegan in the column. No whining. No pouting. No expectation of state funding nor Chicago resident tax dollars to build a private stadium for a soccer team. Yes, it differs from a traditional look in the stadium world. Open to criticism, the Gensler firm has presented a solid design. No political shenanigans. No groveling. A proposed start and finish date with a realistic budget. Rising above the need for a pat on the back, Mansueto has demonstrated the fortitude required to bring a solid idea to fruition with proper funding. Residents owe Mansueto our backing and a thank you for a job well has gotten a lot of bad press lately. As a lifelong Chicago-area resident, I would like to share some positives about a recent experience of mine. Last month, I walked from the West Ridge neighborhood to downtown and back — about 26.2 miles, or the distance of a marathon. I zigzagged through many neighborhoods, going through parks and streets. The street market in the Logan Square neighborhood went on for about a half mile. The stalls were packed with fruits, veggies, ethnic cuisine and even morel mushrooms. The music was lively, and the people were friendly. No police officers. As I approached, Humboldt Park was bustling with families out walking, kids playing ball and lovers holding hands. The park is where my parents courted in the 1940s. In my mind, I was able to picture them having a great day in the park. Part of the allure of this neighborhood is Humboldt Boulevard — gazing at the old mansions and churches that were once Jewish synagogues. I eventually headed to the United Center and then east. I can see how this neighborhood, once decimated by the riots of 1968 following the assassination of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., has been transformed. The cafes and stores bustle with people of all ages. The West Loop is alive and well. In the 1970s, this was not possible. Once I got downtown, it was crowded for a Sunday. I headed back north, going through the North Side neighborhoods of Bucktown and Old Town. Some of the side streets are lovely, with a canopy of trees over the streets, beautiful gardens and the ever-present Chicago black wrought-iron fences. Going through Wrigleyville on a game day will always be an experience unto itself. The crowds gathered outside the ballpark were covered in Cubs wear. There were vendors selling water, peanuts, shirts and hats. The streets of Clark and Addison were blocked off, so it was like a street fair. The cops were friendly and helped tourists take pictures of the marquee. Then on to the Lakeview, Lincoln Square and Budlong Woods neighborhoods before returning to West Ridge. They were mostly subdued compared to the other areas that I covered, but they were all well kept up and clean. The city itself never looked better, and the people of this city do appreciate all that Chicago has to offer. There is an abundance of neighborhood parks in which everyone can enjoy a drink from a water fountain or a splash from it to cool off.I read that Mel Brooks just turned 99 years old. Maybe laughter is the best medicine.
Forbes
27-06-2025
- Lifestyle
- Forbes
Where To Find Wellness In Downtown Chicago And On The Magnificent Mile
Metaphysical wellness with the New Moon Ritual, poolside, at The Waldorf Astoria Chicago The Waldorf Astoria Chicago My grandmother was raised in Chicago, and I can always feel her spirit brush against me whenever I'm there. Chicago is my 'Second City'—second, that is, only to a lifelong love affair with New York. But I never knew there was so much wellness in downtown Chicago, in unique and expected ways. On my last trip to the Windy City, I finally made it to the renowned Second City comedy club for the first time, and it was well worth a visit, which is no surprise! It was a perfect time to visit because as my grandmother used to say, 'Laughter is the best medicine.' And nothing is more healing in these troubled times than a good laugh. That night, at Second City, I laughed until I cried. It felt so good that I actually (briefly!) considered a career in standup. I could go to improv school, why not? Ultimately, I decided to just park that idea on a quiet side of my brain for now. But finding that quiet isn't easy these days, which is why it's so important to find your way to wellness, even for an hour or two. Wellness means so much more than massage or meditation, but either of those, of course, can be a great start. Also, booking a meal with a friend, or visiting an amazing art museum, such as The Art Institute of Chicago, even if you only have an hour. Wellness can be physical, emotional, spiritual, soulful, cultural–seeking out and experiencing joy and self-care is an incomparable respite from stress. Whether you're in town for work or play, consider carving out a bit of time to relax and show yourself some love, Chicago-style. Here are a few premier places to catch a wellness respite. Waldorf Astoria lap pool Waldorf Astoria Chicago The Waldorf's front exterior, with its cobblestone drive and bright indigo awnings, conjures just a little bit of Paris in Chicago. If you want to spend an afternoon, book a spa treatment which entitles you to access a sauna, jacuzzi, lap pool and fitness center. 'No cell phone' signs abound, and the Waldorf Astoria Spa is, indeed, intended for deep relaxation. Apres-treatment, the Relaxation Lounge is a perfect place to chill with a glass of complimentary champagne and chocolates. (Throughout the summer, from Thursday through Saturday, the Clicquot Courtyard, a partnership with Veuve Clicquot, is a lovely spot to enjoy a charcuterie board, a bit of bubbly and live music surrounded by a splash of Veuve yellow pillows and champagne flutes.) For those who are spiritually or metaphysically inclined, book the monthly New Moon Ritual program. Starting with a crystal meditation, led by Chicago-based healer Effie Kalaitzidis, the program takes place over the full moon and features a host of seasonal self-care rituals linking astrology with exercises in self-reflection, followed by a Tarot-card reading. Bring a friend and stay for dinner at the Brass Tack, an American brasserie and bar with a French inflection, great cocktails and a menu that includes classics that range from oysters, shrimp cocktail, Waldorf salad to striped bass, salmon, lamb chops, along with vegetarian and vegan dishes such as 'scallops' made from trumpet mushrooms and a salad sourced from local greens. Background jazz plays at a perfect volume: it's enjoyable, but guests can still carry on a conversation. Chuan Spa Spirit Suite at the Langham Chicago The Langham Chicago Asian Inspired Wellness The Langham Chicago The Langham is a Michelin two-key property, so it's no surprise that the Asian-inspired Chuan Spa is a standout, a lovely spot that offers topnotch spa treatments. The spa decor is modern and luxurious, and everything on offer is designed to be utterly relaxing. Plus, it is rich in additional amenities that make it a great place to while away an afternoon. Try the herbal sauna, Himalayan salt stone sauna, special experience shower, and heated relaxation lounge chairs before–and after–a treatment. The 67-foot pool is stunning, and relaxing in the hydro-vitality tub will melt stress away. The Langham is conceived of as a resort in the city and has partnered with Harborside International Golf Center to provide guests with a round of golf (18 holes), lunch at Harborside's Restaurant, and more. The concierge will also book behind-the-scenes tours of The Art Institute, mixology classes, a private cinema for movie night, a tour of Frank Lloyd Wright's home and studio, an on-property jazz club, Chicago helicopter tour, and a private meet and greet with the penguins at The Shedd Aquarium. Sneak out of your conference and explore the city on a complimentary electric bike, a partnership with Specialized x Pendry Chicago. Christian Horan Photography Water Wellness Pendry Chicago A younger, hipper sister to Montage International, its parent brand, the Pendry Chicago, in the beloved Art Deco Carbon & Carbide Building, is full of delightful surprises. The Bar Pendry is one of the coziest hangouts in Chicago and may just have the best burger in town. (Indulge in a house martini while you're at it, which comes with olives stuffed with caviar.) Discover Ventoux, a French brasserie and raw bar–with delicious breakfast pastries and coffee, and outdoor seating. High up on the 24th floor, Chateau Carbide, a rooftop cocktail bar surrounded by skyscrapers, is a great little hideaway. Pendry Chicago has partnered with Aire Ancient Baths in the West Loop, where guests can relax and soak in a soothing atmospheric subterranean bath house. Soft lighting, eucalyptus-tinged steam, massage and a range of wellness offerings themed around water round out the uniquely relaxing experience. The hotel offers a printed Wellness Menu with a selection of equipment that can be rented on a 24-hour basis to ease in recovery. Wellness rentals include recovery jet boots, a wave roller, go mat, among many more, to be enjoyed in the comfort and privacy of your spacious room. The Gold Lounge at Fairmont Chicago DANIEL KELLEGHAN Wellness with Intention Fairmont Chicago, Millennium Park A hotel grande dame, the Fairmont Chicago is well loved by travelers who appreciate classic creature comforts and great service. The rooms are bright, spacious and comfortable, some with picture windows that frame Millennium Park, a pretty pocket park, and a slice of Lake Michigan. Fairmont Chicago is not new but it offers something that is, perhaps, better than spanking newness: it is tried and true, always warm and welcoming. The Gold Floor, essentially a hotel within the hotel, offers access to private check in, dedicated concierge service, daily breakfast, appetizers, desserts and a full honor bar. The hotel features a house car for short distances, which comes in handy. At Toro, the Latin American restaurant and bar helmed by Chef Richard Sandoval, every night is a party, with dancers and live drumming. The theatrical ambiance features a range of delicious grilled meats, ceviche and aguachile, along with (literally) fiery drinks and desserts. The entrance to the Fairmont Leaf Spa features the Wish Tree, a place to stop, set intentions and breathe in the unique spa scent of relaxation, recognizable to anyone who has ever been to a spa. A variety of special treatments and practices include candlelight sound bowl healing, guided meditation and intention setting class, lavender love massage (designed to open the heart chakra and calm the nervous system with essential oils, crystals and a tuning fork), mindful meditation massage and an Ayurvedic dosha detox body treatment, plus a full range of facials. About Last Knife, the vibey restaurant at the Arlo Chicago, where fun special events build community. The Arlo Chicago Meditative Wellness Arlo Chicago The Arlo is a cozy hotel, and I don't mean that as a euphemism for small. Granted, the spaces are not large and there is not an endless menu of amenities. But it is all done very well–designed for comfort, ease and a laidback experience in the landmark 1916 Atlantic Bank Building. Rooms are well-lit, stylish and comfortable, with windows that let in lots of natural light. Guests are greeted with fortune cookies in the room, and stamped postcards to send messages to friends and family. The restaurant, About Last Knife, is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner with a full bar that offers a Happy Hour (known here as 'Lucky Hour') from three to seven every weeknight (that's right, a four-hour Happy Hour!). Hearty dishes range from a signature French onion soup, to healthy food choices such as hummus, veggie burgers. The in-room wellness menu, in partnership with Alomoves, features a selection of classes that includes mindful meditation, sound bath, and yoga, with mats in the room, and guests can also access a free 30-day membership to Alomoves. Located near Lake Michigan, the Arlo offers jogging paths, complimentary bike passes and nearby access to a stroll through Millennium Park. In the spirit of fostering community, there is bingo night, live jazz, and a Post-It sharing board where guests can leave messages during their stay. The Art Institute of Chicago. Modern Wing Entrance and Modern Shop. The Art Institute of Chicago Cultural Wellness The Art Institute of Chicago Chicago doesn't have a lot of museums, but it's a clear case of quality over quantity, because Chicago museums are topnotch. When I feel anxious or stressed, it always helps me to wend my way to a museum. And The Art Institute of Chicago is one of my favorite art museums in the world, a great place to feel uplifted by wellness in downtown Chicago. Not to be overlooked, The Field Museum is Chicago's version of New York's American Museum of Natural History, and the star attraction is Sue, the T. Rex. Sue is physically the largest Tyrannosaurus rex specimen ever discovered. Gaze in awe!
