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January 23, 2008
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Snow, that magical, white stuff which makes beauty out of anything, covers the city streets today.
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Everyone is out with their shovels. A first section of paintings adhering to the wall is marvelous. Once up, they tarp everything, lest the secret be spoiled.
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Two crews - one at The Fulton wrapping & packing shards, one at Millennium Park. Cold gloves.
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Press photos. Unwrapping reds in the midst of a yellow & orange day.
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Power flickers off. Work stops. Sue Lyn Erbeck sends me a photo of the river under Michigan Avenue. "Doesn't just scream Paintings Below Zero?" she says. She snapped it on the way to the site -- looking for more for 'stuff' for the upcoming article in the Chicago Tribune. When she got there, no one was there.
At dusk, work gets going again. Art leaves tomorrow.
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Here's Art, making sure the pipes, which carry glycol, are hooked up properly.
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I received an iceberg via email from my brother Andrew today. They all live in California, and this is the exotic life here, with snow everyday. I could probably have a vacation on the time I spend dressing and undressing for this weather.
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I bought a gown for the Consular Ball. (!!!!)
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