my first gallery

"I don't know, Amy, it's looking grim," I said to my best friend on the phone, as I headed east down North Avenue, less than a block away from Coldstone Creamery. "Oh...oh...oh--there is definitely someone buying ice cream!" I screeched into Amy's ear. I grabbed the door handle, expecting my eternal bad timing to render me ice cream-less outside a locked door. But no. Nothing could ruin this evening. Absolutely nothing! I thought as I effortlessly pulled open the door.
"Are you guys still open??" I yelled, excitedly.
The two employees looked at each other, then back at me. The older one said, "We sure are."
I threw my arms up into the air. "You just made my NIGHT!"
Amy laughed in my ear, and I suddenly realized I was in public and not in a delicious dream. Yet, I was not embarrassed. In fact, I proceeded to approach the counter and say, well first to Amy--"Can I call you back after I get my ice cream?" and then to the boy, "Can I just tell you why you made my night?" He looked just like my friend Christopher back in New York, and Christopher is one of the only people in my life who would actually care to hear a follow-up to that somewhat rhetorical question. Therefore, I felt the look-alike would have similar sentiments. "Tell me," he said. "Ok, here's what happened," I started. "I just came from the opening of my first ever art show in a gallery down the street. And I'm driving down North Avenue, and all I want is some ice cream. I pass your store and see people inside and get excited that I will be able to fulfill my craving. But there's no parking anywhere. I don't live too far away, so I drive home to ditch the car, run upstairs to check your hours on the website. It says 10:30. It was 10:37. Well, I was so stir-crazy, that I told my friend on the phone I was just going to walk here anyway and see if by any chance you'd serve me. And sure enough, you're open!!"
"You lucked out," he said. "This is the first night we stayed open late since October."
"Really?? Wow, this night keeps getting better and better!" Order your ice cream and stop talking, my brain said. "Oh ok so I'll have sweet cream ice cream with a brownie and, do you have blackberries?" I hadn't had Coldstone in two years, but I still remembered my favored concoction.
"We have black cherries...but that's not really the same thing."
"What about raspberries?"
"Those we have."
"Awesome I'll have those too. Thanks."

While "Christopher" smashed up my order, a bunch of people came in, one boy declaring, "It smells like 10th grade in here!" I laughed because I think I was in the same grade when the first Coldstone opened near my high school.
As "Christopher" rang up my order, he asked how my art show went.
"It went wonderfully! Thank you!"



Thursday night I went to the gallery at 6:30 p.m. to hang my photographs. I anticipated this only taking about 30 minutes. At 7:50 I was still pacing back and forth, once in awhile pausing to stare at the big blank white wall. I didn't know we were all hanging our own work, so I didn't bring any of my own tools (not that I have any...), and the only ladder in the place was being occupied. Pamela, one of the other artists, saw me getting flustered and offered to help. She held my first frame "eye-level" while I attempted measuring from the floor with Tifanie's tape measurer. Once one was officially on the wall I felt a little more confident about finishing in a decent amount of time. The second picture ended up several inches lower than where I had imagined its placing in relation to the first one. I don't have the patience for perfection, so once that I happened, I decided to do things the Alyse way...whereever I hammered the next seven nails, as haphazard as they appeared, that's where the pictures were going. My way worked! I only had to slightly alter one of them. Even Collin, the owner, didn't mind how it looked, so I left relieved and ready for the next two nights.


My horoscope in Time Out Chicago read, "On Fri 9, you feel confident about your intellectual and creative abilities, but you also feel your domestic life needs improvement." I couldn't believe it! I mean not that I read my horoscope (Sagitarrius) religiously, if even more than 5x a year, but sister and I used to have a running joke about how mine were always so depressing--your best friend is stabbing you in the back, today you might get run over by a bus, the person you love is actually cheating on you....stuff like that. Even with the "but" attachment to this prediction, my horoscope finally said something not only positive, but in direct correlation with this evening's events.

After running some errands Friday morning, I stayed indoors the rest of the day, mostly to prevent any accident-prone events and to let my hair dry without submersing it in any kind of inclimate weather conditions. At 5:00 I ran out in sweats to pick up my Thai dinner down the street. Down came the rain. Bye bye protected hair. But, I wouldn't let myself dwell on that because although it was raining, it was WARM, and when I got up to the counter at Penny's, I noticed someone had put a pile of promotional postcards for our show right in front of the register! Part of me wanted to say, "I'm in that show!" to the girl working there, but I kept it to myself and walked out silently satisfied.

I shoveled down my spicy noodles with a remaining 13 minutes to fix my hair, put on some makeup, slip into my new dress, and drive to the gallery (which, luckily, is only 2-3 minutes away, depending on the one stoplight). I walked into the Blake Palmer Gallery, and the first thing I noticed: my name on the wall!! From that moment on, I don't think I stopped smiling until Sunday. Two minutes after I walked in, someone I knew came by to see the show, and after him, there was someone I knew visiting me in the gallery for the next four hours!! Friend's parents and siblings, former teachers, some artists I met at Around the Coyote a month ago, as well as a bunch of my friends...about 25 the first night. Not bad, not bad at all.


I didn't think Saturday could possibly get any better, but from start to finish, I had possibly one of the best days of my entire life. Possibly it had something to do with the fact that I straightened my hair and wore my second new outfit of the weekend, and for those who know me, this was a big deal...i don't even remember the last time i updated my wardrobe. Again, there was a HUGE turn-out! 32 people came, including Amy's 3-month-old niece, Ella. . My parents brought me flowers, which I hadn't received since my final dance recital in 2001, and the Josephs gave me an "I read banned books" bracelet, which is awesome. My namesake came (read two posts back about that story), a bunch of friends from high school who I hadn't seen in years showed up, and they even had a guy in the gallery playing the drums! I was elated, just soaking it all in.
Several people this evening approached me and asked if I was a dancer...my reply: in a past life...but secretly wished I could just say, yes. One man said, "You know how I knew? Because of your very large calves."...gee, thanks..."No, but I think defined calf muscles are very attractive on a woman." Great.
In regards to my art, I got a lot of praise, which felt wonderful, but I also got berated by a lot of people for not being a business-minded, money-hungry capitalist. "How much are you selling these for?" Oh, I don't know. "Did you sell anything yet?" I have no idea. The sellability of my work or how much money I was or wasn't making didn't even cross my mind, and I felt uncomfortable when people asked me questions regarding that. I honestly didn't care. All I cared about was that by the end of the second and final opening on Saturday night, there had been almost 60 people there who came all the way out to support me. That is what mattered.


After Amy and I hung up (after talking for 90 minutes!) that night, I thought about how ironic it was that after all the excitement, as usual, the night ended with just me and a bowl of ice cream. I couldn't get anyone to stick around, despite my energetic pleas. If any of the Unit had been there, I thought, I know they would have stayed, but, alas, we no longer live close enough to each other for them to even come. Every other artist and every other visitor those nights showed up with either a wife/husband/boyfriend/girlfriend by their side, which I found humorous. I was so high on life that that didn't even bother me, and instead I was proud that I could do something like this all on my own.

Bias aside, I honestly have never seen a strong and cohesive group show. I loved every artists' work, and that never happens. And I feel honored to be showing alongside such talented people.
"The New Breed" show at the Blake Palmer Gallery (1656 N. Bosworth) will be on display until April 27.

MORE GALLERY PHOTOS

a day in my life--dad's visit/second city marathon

I didn't write yesterday because I think I was in the house total 30 minutes from the time I woke up in the morning...I drove Max to school, my dad came to visit for the afternoon, regular after-school duties of grocery store runs, walking the dogs, and driving to/from fencing...you'd think that'd be enough for a day, but it didn't stop there. I then continued on to Second City for their 5th annual, 24-hour "Dear Santa" fundraiser...where I sat from 8 p.m. till 2 a.m. laughing a lot and listening to Jeff Tweedy (among other musicians) perform mere feet away from where I was sitting. I dropped my friend Andrew off there amidst my chaotic schedule to get the tickets/seats at 6 and met him back there at 8. He saved me an awesome seat two rows from the front of the stage. I have to admit that when I was standing at the bus stop at 7:30 by myself in the rain, all I could think about was going to bed. But I kept telling myself that it was one day out of the year and to suck it up. I ended up only being tired the first 45 minutes or so, and from that point on, it was like the ultimate second wind hit me, and I couldn't get enough of it. I'd venture to say it was the most worthwhile $10 I've ever spent. That's right--it only cost $10 (I might still go back for an hour later today while Max is at tutoring around the corner). Anyway, this post will be more like a photo essay format, as I took a lot of pictures yesterday. So here goes.

Jenny is really the only one who'll understand the significance of this photo (we were at a restaurant with our parents and the waitress asked "who has the pepsis?" and my dad responded, "the dudes.") Anyway, after the Hull House (no pictures because I felt like I was gonna faint the whole time we were there), we went to Tomato Head for lunch in the West Loop. When we were done eating, my dad walked down the hall to the bathrooms and I heard him go, "DUDE!" when he saw the door, and then as he passed by the women's one, he waved at it and yelled, "HELLO!" (because the door said "Dollies"...get it?)

After lunch we walked a few blocks down Randolph, intending to turn on Peoria to walk through some art galleries. But my dad got distracted by the flashing "Chicago's Chocolate Café" sign and so we went in there first. I got a Mexican hot chocolate, while he savored his favorite thing--fudge, while clearly displaying his other favorite thing (see hat and ring)--the Yankees.

For the past six years or so my dad and I have made it a tradition to spend a day together looking at art in galleries or museums once or twice a year. I love doing this with him because he gets so blown away by people's artwork. Even if he doesn't like everything he sees, aesthetically-speaking, he'll still marvel at the "amount of creativity people have." I find it more fun to look at art with him than say a fellow artist because he's coming from a scientific point of view, whereas other artists can get too pretentious for my liking.
This is my dad at the Rhona Hoffman Gallery pointing out that both my mom's name ("Bon"nie...part of "Bonkers") and his ("Loo" [really Lou]...part of "Loon") appeared on the painting.
It also was funny to hear him yell out, "Yo!" from the other side of the gallery, after I presume he'd read words such as "shithead" and "fuck up."
[Artist: Mel Bochner..."'Obscene,' 'Money,' 'Stupid,' 'Meaningless' and other recent paintings on black velvet"]

I liked this jacket. Part of the "Poetry: Literal, Visual & Otherwise" show at moniquemeloche gallery.
[Artist/Writer: Jason Pickleman]

"This looks like cheese!" My dad said. "You know...those cheese slices...Kraft!..Kraft singles!" Sure enough, as we left the room, we looked at the paintings' titles, and that one was called, "Defender of the Cheese." He doesn't give himself enough credit.
[Artist: Chris Cosnowski, part of the "Civic-minded" show at gescheidle gallery]

"Half a ram, huh? Well I suppose it's better to have half a ram than none at all."
[i forgot to write down where we were...but it was a gallery right next to the Tomato Head on our way back to the car...i think the exhibit was called "The Human Condition"?]

You can't tell, but my dad is in the driver's seat of that minivan. No, not our car. The lady in the passenger seat said her husband would be right out, but they were blocking us in, so the lady told him he could get in and move it. So he did. Upon getting back into my car, he goes, "I wonder what she would have done if I drove away."

Horatio Sanz flew in from NYC to participate in the Second City 24-hour fundraiser. Reminded me of my days at SNL. I wondered if he'd recognize me, seeing as I happened to be wearing the same zip up sweatshirt I wore pretty much every day when I worked there.






Jeff Tweedy mostly talked and had a Q&A with the audience. I couldn't think of anything not stupid to ask, so I just sat quietly and snapped pictures. He took audience requests for the two songs he played. The girl in front of me raised her hand and requested "Please tell my Brother," to which she got a teary-eyed response about how he can't play that song right now because his mom died very recently and it hurts too much. That made me sad for him. Someone else requested "Passenger Side," which he played. I raised my hand the second time to request "Box Full of Letters," but he called on someone else. Second--"White Light" (i think that's what it's called?...it's a new one)

This is Jeff posing as the bids kept going higher and higher. The auctioned prize: a private concert of a 20-song playlist (that you decide) in your home for you and 29 of your closest friends. I was willing to bid a few hundred dollars, thinking that'd be the coolest thing I could ever host for my friends...the first bid was $2,000! Guess how much it ended up going for....$17,500!!! And not just that, he said he'd be willing to do 3 shows if the remaining bidders would all match the price. So with that prize alone, $52,500!!!, they almost hit last year's total earnings within the first two hours of the event!


Sally Timms and Jon Langford sang a few duets, one being a quite beautiful rendition of Roy Orbison's "Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain."

Robbie Fulks and his friend (name?) took the stage around 1 a.m. He looked remarkably like Conan O'Brien (height and everything) and sang catchy rhythmic tunes. He also did a rap called "Rap of the Dead" that he said is a personal New Year's tradition where he raps about all the prominent people who've died in the past year. We were his practice audience, as he said he wrote it the night before and needs to memorize it in the next few weeks.

The friend sat out for a few songs and watched Robbie play front and center from the audience.

For their last song, people started shouting out requests. Two being "Man in the Mirror" and "Dancing Queen." Robbie, without hesitation, started in on an acoustic version of the suggested Michael Jackson classic...."I'm gonna make a change for once in my life..." This prompted his friend to run backstage and then reappear with a GIANT drum and an umbrella to use as a mallet. It was so fun because everyone sang/clapped along...then somehow morphed the ending of the song into the beginning of Abba's "Dancing Queen" and back again. It was pretty incredible...and hard for me to refrain from starting a full out dance party.

Before taking off for the night (around 2...) we got to witness Joe Canale's (current mainstage cast member) three friends (also cast members) bid $400 each to get 7 chances each to throw a football at Joe's crotch. This made me cringe, but it was an awkward time to get up and leave. This is Joe sticking out his tongue at his friend "up to bat."

Notice the unfortunate location of the oncoming blurred football....



Today, as I mentioned I might do at the start of this post, I went back there for just over an hour while Max was in tutoring around the corner. The cast members from last night were all donning glasses now, but their enthusiasm hadn't diminished. Especially when The Blisters--a band made up of 11-year-old boys, the drummer being Jeff Tweedy's son, Spencer--took the stage. You wouldn't expect much out of a pre-teen three-some (one band member couldn't make it, usually there's 4), but they seriously rocked that place! And the best part was that at the end, the lead singer kid (Henry I think?) goes, "Those were all original songs." WHAT?! Everyone in the room flipped out when he said that because they were that great. They left the stage and everyone started chanting, "BLIS-TERS! BLIS-TERS! BLIS-TERS!!" They jumped back on from backstage to play a two-song encore--"Keep on Rockin' in the Free World" and one of my favorites (because it reminds me of Forrest Gump dancing in his new shoes from Jenny), "Sweet Home Alabama." So glad I decided to stop back in there for a little bit.

I'm anxious to hear what the total amount of rundraising ended up being. Let's just say 12 Chicagoan families' lives are going to soon change for the better! If anyone wants to help out, they said anyone can go to the main post office downtown and get a "Dear Santa" letter to help out a kid or a family in need. Think about it.