Opening day for Chicago's Popsicle

Cloudy
the sky is grey and white
and cloudy



and we're working in a blizzard to beat the band

Adrenalin rush

The negative ions are out in full force today with such brilliant sunshine and minus sixteen degree temperature. Glorious, glorious, glorious.




Today, we’re running on adrenalin; everyone’s got lots of energy.




We can see the finish ahead and we’re still in the lead.




At lunch today, River was floating on last night’s blizzard: “That was intensely exciting, “ he enthused, “extreme art”.







Ari, who has been upgraded from being in charge of The Gulag to overseeing details of the rink paintings (with Matt and Katherine) said of the moment when Gord left him to tip the bucket over that huge white surface -





“That moment was like getting the keys to Dad’s car. I’m glad I got good at pouring.”


We’re all buoyed by the weather.



“I was concerned yesterday, when I saw the melty, drippy mess,” Ari said of the moment our visitors chose to view the paintings, “but when we cleaned it up today, it looked great.”





Gord is never anywhere for long enough to get a photo. Today he charged from the rink to the wall, disappearing like Zorro.


Even Patrick Pyszka agreed - you point to shoot and by the time you click, his back is turned or his arms are down, or he’s out of the shot. Here's one I got:


Jaz under the tarp.



Katie considering a green slab.



The press arrived today for the rink painting.



Valentine presided, dressed in that classic red coat and black hat, with her daughter Phoebe escorting. Here’s the contingent from City of Chicago in that brilliant sunshine watching the rink painting and the television cameras.


Usually I walk the block between Randolph and the park down the long corridors of the City of Chicago Cultural Center - it’s warmer than taking the street - and I’ve seen some fine art on the walls of the art gallery there.Today I opened the doors and was greeted with the most beautiful sound: Martha Councell on Flute and Richard Steinbach on piano playing Bach's Sonata in G Major. A concert in progress on the 2nd floor. I had to stop and just listen.



Preparations are going full throttle at the big white tent, getting ready for tomorrow's opening.

Blizzard descends on The Popsicle

About 6 PM, it finally hit.






With temperatures quickly dropping to -14 celsius, we were back in business. Jaz called, wondering if I would brave the blizzard? The storm was beautiful and the paintings were coming together.























The winds were so strong, gromits in the tarps ripped out. That's River on the lift. Here's Tim, strapping down tarps at 10PM.



























Everyone moved quickly, as a team. The paintings were radiant against the white.


Everyone was going to take a break, but it was much later than anyone realized. Standing on the street corner waiting for the light to change, Gord decided to call it off. Enough had been accomplished, and sometimes it's wise to know when nature has the upper hand. Tomorrow, at 7 am.

Storm Watch at The Bean

Waiting for the cold wind to blow in this “very Vancouver” weather.





It’s 46 degrees and cloudy, with a winter storm warning for 3 pm this afternoon.














We’re probably the only people in Chicago who want the temperature to dip.



Yesterday the winds rocked the Hard Rock Hotel, I could hear and feel their strong gusts shaking the building.



When I looked outside: it was unbelievable that snow had morphed into rain so quickly. This morning the ice shards in the river had disappeared. The streets are wet, instead of white.



At the ice rink it was so balmy, the crew worked in sweatshirts, no scarves.






Here's an NPR reporter, collecting sounds as we begin the yellow paintings on the rink. You can just see how warm it is. The ice is wet; we wait for it to freeze.



At 3PM, we’re expecting visitors to review the artwork-in-progress. The crew opens the tarps as rain hails down on us.



We’ve had a day and a half delay in the installation of the paintings because of the weather, and frost has built up on the outside of the work.



But it’s all about the here and now, the icebergs crashing into the sea, the strange, inclement weather which is global warming and the difference of one degree.



So we’re going with it, and we’ll see which way the wind blows.

Our original meeting place for Docent training outside at The Wall was switched to indoors due to storm warning. That's wind filling the sails of the orange tarp.



The crew is rested with a few days of warm weather -- and now we’ll be doing some very late nights into the darkness, just to get this baby done! Patrick Pyszka took a bunch of these photos.

Here are my favorite moments from today:

The weekend: weather, exhaustion

In Chicago there's a saying: if you don't like the weather, just wait: it will change. On the sidewalks, the Caution Falling Ice signs have been put out again, even as the air is softer. The crew is finally going to get R & R, come Monday morning, because it will be too warm to install the ice. Although we're four days from opening, everyone needs the break.


Nancy Barber arrived last night from Toronto, and we talked for hours, (docents, meetings, contacts). Gord finally walked in the door after nine thirty. Exhausted. His right eye, bright red bloodshot.



After a quick meal and a hot bath, he crawls into bed, huddling under the covers. And he wakes at dawn, unable to turn it off. River has his own story of fatigue: every night when he returns, just steps from the revolving door at The Hard Rock, he forgets that there is this ridge in the sidewalk and even though he's tripped on it before, and he trips on it again, catching himself before he falls. Today at breakfast, he laughed about it.


Ari claims to have gone postal Friday night, after so many overtime days at The Fulton, wrapping in the frigid dark there. Jaz keeps asking what the schedule? Everyone is just about maxed out, but a lot of work seems to get done after dark.



Tim is holding up well; rumor is that he has a Chicago girlfriend, but he won’t confirm. Today, Sunday, the call time was optional: 10:30 at Fox and Obel for omlettes. Gord’s picture was on the top right hand corner of The Chiago Tribune (The Iceman Cometh) and two articles about the project were inside -- one was a full page with color illustrations. It was a glorious day, much warmer.


Even the ice was breaking up in the river under Michigan Avenue, and Gord couldn’t get enough of it: a dusting of white snow sitting atop the shards; the melting around the edges, the darkness of the river.


At Millennium Park, the people of Chicago came out to skate, to stroll, to take pictures in front of the bean. You'd think it was the first day of spring.











A large contingent of docents and volunteers gathered around the wall for instruction, but at that time, the work had stopped, waiting for the temperature to go down again.



Because of the warm weather, the entire wall had been draped in blue and orange tarps - River had to peel it back to they could get a glimpse. Here they all are, waiting for our presentation, organized by Rose Di Pietro. Here’s Rose.


The warmth in the air is a physical relief for everyone, but it slows down install of the paintings. When the air is warmer than freezing, the ice can get soft between the freezer truck and the wall - as it gets shaped and cut. Once up on the wall, the plates freeze the paintings hard again. Gord says we lost a couple of hours Saturday, but there was nothing to be done: the tarps had to be lowered.



Today, everyone worked under the blue tarp on the back wall. Yesterday I bought dinner for Spence, the man who opens the interior door for guests at BACI. We high fived, because for some reason, he can’t talk.


Tonight after 9:30, we’re gathering in the suite for pizza. It’s already 10:20 and I haven’t heard a word from anyone. Photos today: opening photo: Friendly Joe; the bean & the wall: Patrick Pyszka; photo of Jaz & River on their backs: Art Sutherland.

Bobby Hull, The Gulag, Day #5 install

January 25, 2008

It's Friday, and between fahrenheit and celsius, there's only one way to know how frigid it really is: how fast your fingers freeze, and beyond that, how quickly they thaw. Happily, we're on a mission and it gets more exciting every day. Art emailed with a photo he'd captured before he left: The Hard Rock & Museum of Modern Ice banners. You can see the windows of our suite, second row from the top.



The painting goes up slab by shard. Mr. Tambourine Man plays on the ice rink behind the bean. The music comes up & over the square, landing in our laps, whether we want to sing along or not. The sound of the skil saw is the only thing loud enough to cut through it.


The crew misses the radiator at The Fulton, as when gloves get wet, now there's no place to warm them.



The work is hard, but life is good. The people we meet, intelligent, fun, interesting. Chicago hospitality.


Everyone: reporters, photographers, staff at Chicago Cultural Center, people behind the desk at The Hard Rock, Intelligentsia baristas, the chef who makes my egg white omelet, even the guy on the street acknowledges me as I pass.



Here's Susie An, with Chicago Public Radio in a photo shot by a guy named Joe Friendly. Joe's doing a still-photo doc report on Gord's work at Millennium Park. You can see more of his stuff at www.flickr.com/photos/friendlyjoe




Here's Danielle Dai, a student at University of Chicago who is interested in making a documentary of Paintings Below Zero at Millennium Park.


Yesterday, this really great gal, Jody Oshita-Bajor hosted us on behalf of NBC at a Blackhawks game. (She's on the right).



I told Brooke way back about Gord's link with the team. The obvious promotional connection - hockey rinks and Gord's inspiration for frozen paintings. More personal: Gord's father(Marty Halloran) was a softball hero of the famous Blackhawks player Bobby Hull. One day in the peak of Bobby Hull's career, he sees Marty back in Ontario and runs after him saying, "Remember me, Marty? I was your bat boy." Bobby's brother, Dennis worked for Marty at Halloran Motors in Niagara Falls, alongside Gord, when they both were young. Marty died a couple years ago, but Bobby could still be out there, still playing hockey with an old timers team, perhaps, and Gord would really like to get on the ice with him. A gesture for his dad, perhaps? A tribute to a great hockey player? Gord is still a pretty nifty stick handler, for an artist, and I think he would just be honored and thrilled. And, he'd have a story to take back - to his team, The Rusty Cranks.


Anyway, someone knew someone and the next thing you know, we're handing in our tickets to watch the game in The Blackhawk's suite; we're listening to the national anthem on super loud speakers; we're watching the players move like stink around that rink and Gord's got a Blackhawks sweater -- his name, correctly spelled, on the back.



Here we are, just before the cameras zero in on us. This after a 30 second spot, advertising Paintings Below Zero on the Jumbo Tron. That's Dillon on the left, the kid who's been playing hockey for as long as I have, and who loves it just as much. And there's Sarah Best (on the right), who is in charge of the website for Chicago Cultural Center. She and Karen Ryan, were our escorts from the city.


I remembered last year, when we were guests of Eric & Vizma Sprott at a Toronto Maple Leafs game - against our home team, the Canuks. Who cares who won? It's the people -- their generosity and goodwill -- whose memory stays long after the score is forgotten.



Today at the Gulag, Ari and a small crew huddled around the radiator in the warm room as Friendly Joe and I came upon them.



Ari was tired but smiled bravely; he's holding down the fort over there with a skeleton crew of interns, Katie (#2) and Katherine (in the photo) plus a couple others, making ready the pieces Gord wants to mount on the wall back at the park.


The photo here was one of Joe's taken today; kudos.



Meetings and interviews, phone calls with press. Gord spent both of his 'breaks' on the phone. It was so cold, they left the site and went into the warm when they had to - when it was just too bone chilling to go on. It was almost time to go home when I learned that the blue jackets from the City of Chicago arrived - in two huge boxes. So, doncha know, Leo Rodriguez, here he is, got a dolly and walked them back to the Hard Rock with me. And then I find out he was one of those guys helping Ari pack the ice at The Fulton. Have a look at that photo again, he's there, helping out.


At dusk, a thinned crew was still at it. (The rest had been sent back to The Gulag, to wrap and break and sort and send). I couldn't stop singing Jeremiah was a bullfrog. . . because that's what was coming through the loudspeakers, as skaters went round and round that little rink below The Bean.



Okay, one more indulgence: here's a photo of the wall going up -- sans paintings - which Art took. Look at this magnificent thing.

Paintings go up, Day #4

January 24, 2008, Thursday










































Tonight we go to the Blackhawks game, as guests!

Paintings go up, Day #3

Wednesday, January 24, 2008


Noontime interview on CBC with Jian Ghomeshi. Gord's hands are freezing.



Our Wednesday meeting with City of Chicago; all the details for the next week: the rink painting, power to the site, budgets. Laura Chmielewski presides, "How can we help?" Tickets to Blackhawks. They're all so great..



Here's Lauren Gentile, who coordinates graphics & design for The Office of Tourism, including Museum of Modern Ice. Today they all presented us Chicago magazine with a huge fold-out insert.



A glorious day in the park.



Interview at 4:30.

Work until well after dark. Gord keeps trying to get away from it, but his mind won't stop.

Paintings Below Zero - Install, Day 2

January 23, 2008

Snow, that magical, white stuff which makes beauty out of anything, covers the city streets today.



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.












Two crews - one at The Fulton wrapping & packing shards, one at Millennium Park. Cold gloves.



Press photos. Unwrapping reds in the midst of a yellow & orange day.



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.



Here's Art, making sure the pipes, which carry glycol, are hooked up properly.



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.



I bought a gown for the Consular Ball. (!!!!)

Ice paintings go up on popsicle wall

Monday morning. January 21st. 2008



Before dawn. The streets, chalk white cold, are still empty. A light shines in the darkness against the building and I can see snow flurries sparkle in their billowy dance. Since Friday, the Dow has crashed 400 points; Hillary Clinton won in Nevada and John McCain in South Carolina. My sister sent me a photo with a blue scarf I bought for her from Italy when we were there in 2006 for the Olympics. (www.paintingsbelowzero.blogspot.com)



On Saturday night, Ari & Matt drove to Michigan to watch 300 Christmas trees burn in an open field; Jaz and River explored The Navy Pier. There was a dance organized by Katie in a wonderful warehouse with high ceilings. On Sunday, along with an assortment of Chicagoans of every level of income, I went shopping. I'm looking for a fancy dress to wear for the Consular Ball in February.

\

Today we wake early for a radio interview at WGN with Spike O’Dell. Brooke escorts us into the Tribune Building where we listen to Gord’s short chat during drive time. It's Martin Luther King, Jr. day.



Here's Spike and Gord, a couple of Irish guys, jovial and the center of attention after having spun a yarn.

At Intelligentsia, Gord asks for everyone’s attention. “We’re really pushing for the next four or five days, so we can get ahead and be able to do some nice work at the end.” Today the first paintings go up on the huge wall.



Next week is the stretch before the opening. I know they’re all hoping to be able to take Sunday off.

More press arrangements for interviews in the park. At the drawing board, Gord announces, “I’ve got to go to The Fulton, to pick out some pieces and make sure they get on the pallet for tomorrow.”



Christine escorts another reporter to The Fulton. Gord’s withdrawn, concentrating, preoccupied with the challenges at hand: getting paintings up on the wall; which ones where? How to cut them? How well are they adhering? What's our process at this venue, with these particular conditions? Christine graciously re-schedules an eleven o’clock press meeting for one.



The sun beats down on the corner where the first yellow shard is set. Gord doesn’t like to tip his hand until he’s solved what’s in front of him. And yet. He’s under a microscope. Still, he smiles when he sees Noreen, who visits the site with her photographer, Chris Walker.



Afterwards, a crew meeting at BACI: a re-focus for the team. Instead of a symphony, I’m now thinking of a hockey game, and he’s the coach, firing up the players for a long, difficult stretch.



Everyone goes about their business. River, our resident stoneworker, says the ice cuts like butter with a skil saw. We sort through our collective memory re: proven ways to pour water -- the glue on the back of the paintings. Tim's going to get a turkey baster. A couple of lucky photographers in the right place at the right time - get shots as the first shards go up.



Suddenly the day is over. It’s nine o’clock at night. Dark outside, snowing huge flakes, a wet snow: it's warmer. I hear Gord's key in the door. He’s exhausted, “I got nothin’!” he says, but I do learn: a fuse blew, and the site was without power for several hours. But because the electricians (who were home for the holiday) had locked down the power, there was not even such a simple option as to flip a switch back on. So they lost a bit of time while Tim rented a generator. Now, they’re back in business, with an alternate power source. Nerve-wracking as it is, it’s good to have these things happen early. I can't wait to see what they've put up today!

Dear Chicago on a cold day

Friday, January 18, 2008



The sun fills the blue sky with extraordinary light. It's a spectacular day. World-at-your feet kind of excitement. The energetic magic you knew when your grandparents were the only people in your world who were old, and the universe held only promise: of romance, adventure and discovery.

Dear Chicago,

Held breath in frozen air
lights over your head
Beautiful with drops of air
As neighbor
Love point

This morning, the world has somehow remade itself into perfection, and nowhere is it more glorious than Millennium Park. Well, in Chicago nowhere more glorious. On the streets, not a single person is idly touring - with the cold freezing nose hairs on the intake and gloved fingertips after two minutes.



At Intelligentsia, the music thumps wildly out of control as Gord orders his black coffee. Tim comes in with a box of bolts. Gord announces the business of the day: some paintings to crack open at The Fulton (and I add, the daily press interview, this time someone from as far away as Wisconsin). The Dear Chicago poem is by Jesse Crouse, Intelligentsia crew and a poetry major at Columbia College.



RIVER arrived yesterday, and talk among the twenty-something crew was that it's good to have a ‘more mature’ guy on crew (i.e. someone hip enough to be considered one of them, but exhuding responsible vibes).



Now Gord and Ari are trying to ‘find” (in the computer) the paintings which have been catalogued and photographed. Gord’s got to pull it together soon – all those shards into a comprehensive painting – and a plan for how it will be assembled. He’s been mulling this one over for weeks, like he does. Meanwhile the plates are being hooked up, and there's pressure to stay on schedule.



There are some complications on the horizon. Extreme, bitter weather is forecast for the weekend. (-16 f). When it gets that cold, the plates won't turn on. Monday is a holiday, Martin Luther King, Jr. day, which could mean that someone key - an engineer for instance, could be home, when we need them on site. Gord announces that we’re moving a pallet of paintings today, just to see how it goes, the freezer truck is working; we’ve got our full crew.

Art Sutherland estimates that the hoses will be hooked up by end of day. Art is Mr. Refrigeration; his comnpany, Accent Refrigeration bought us the wardrobe of embroidered black navy wool shirts and jackets which everyone wears, everyday. He's been with Paintings Below Zero since before Italy.

Here's the wall, with today's work: needing hose hook ups.



We should be able to fire up the plates – have the whole system cranked-- by tomorrow. By the weekend, spraying flood on the wall as soon as a section is cold.



Erik shows us photos he’s copied from the internet – paintings by Morris Lewis and Matisse, shapes and colors which remind everyone of the work we’re steeped in. Now we’re talking about the rink paintings.



Jaz and Ari are skedded to give a presentation for Little Village high school at The Cultural Center, coordinated by Lauren Rosenberg and Claire Geall Sutton. Followed by a tour of the installation-in-progress. We get up to go. The band scatters.



Later, after Jaz and Ari’s presentation, we tour the site, Gord taking photos of the plates.



The crew is boisterous after lunch.



Gord keeps his distance, seriously into his pensive, tackle-it state, he seems weighed down. I’m guessing it hasn’t broken open for him yet to that place where inspiration sails up and over all other paltry ideas, with confidence that This Idea Is The Best!







Back at the hotel, over huge drawings and notes, after days of sorting through photographs, he cries out. Something like, ‘I’ve got it’. "You have to go with what's in front of you," he says, reminding himself. "Basic things keep re-appearing, you have to be open."

He shows me, explains how it will all work, and he's excited. I can only imagine some of the paintings he’s created – I’ve only been to The Fulton when the press wanted to document, and yet I’m feeling elated, like the day, imagining his plan. It makes me think of the musicians – sitting at their desktops, listening to notes they hear in their minds and writing them down – knowing how the music will unfold once put to an instrument. And I think: it's going to be a symphony of paintings. Once, when facing the impossibility of choices made in our lives he said, if he had to do it over, he'd have been a conductor.

David Shannon, of CBC radio calls at 4. Later, the crew shows up at Vong's our latest favorite place.



And they're exuberant at their accomplishments today: the hoses are hooked up; three pallets of ice were transported in the truck and not a single shard cracked over all those potholes and bumps. Tim drove the reefer truck, Ari performed his own voodoo, reminding the pieces in the back of the truck how content they were being whole.

The wall goes up, life goes on

January 16, 2008


Yesterday we heard the news that JC’s brother had died in the night. David had been ill, and he died peacefully surrounded by his beloved. Today, JC flew back to Canada, five days early, to be at the family gathering celebrating the life of his brother. To share those powerful moments when the window between life and death is open -- the grief moments, profound, when we are at our most vulnerable.

Here’s JC, next to Gord, surrounded by the crew the night before.



Life is indifferent, it just keeps right on going.



This morning, I was up early enough to see sun on the horizon and white on the rooftops. A brilliantly sunny day. So many things. The wall goes up. A meeting at l. Writing, editing, sorting out schedules. Press. Emails. George Rioux, Consul General of Canada in Chicago, visits the Fulton today. Here they both are in that cold, grey place; Gord gets so excited about the paintings whenever he has the chance to show them to someone new.



Our Intelligentsia meeting this morning is full of ‘real’ things, physical things, to do with the plates, the glycol, the power to the site in the park, the truss, compressor, wires, bolts, refrigeration. The weight of it is sometimes daunting: it’s best not to think about it all at once.



In progress, so much bigger than I had imagined.

Ari, who is already Sultan of Wrap at The Fulton, is now going to outreach to the interns crew. He’s had personnel experience with Public Dreams in Vancouver. Here he is, making sure the pallets which hold the paintings are catalogued, wrapped and arranged for easy accessibility. This is a big job.



Yesterday I dropped off some of Gord’s sketches for scanning at The Chicago Tribune. The marble walls in the entry corridors (The Hall of Inscriptions) at the Tribune are etched with sayings about freedom of speech.



Famous people, Patrick Henry, Voltaire, Benjamin Franklin, Abraham Lincoln, playwright Arthur Miller and former Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall. Their lofty inspirational quotes reminding every successive generation of writers to consider how important an independent press, is.



The newsroom reminded me of my days as feature editor of the Los Angeles Loyolan, my first summer job out of college as a writer at The Los Angeles Times, and KCBS NewsRadio in San Francisco. The atmosphere - of writing, deadlines, the imminent knowledge that what you put together will be published or broadcast and become part of the culture -- made me think maybe I shouldn't have been distracted by theatre.



But there's a lure to theatre, and I do not regret our accomplishments there. At 5:30 we were hosted at a reception for The Shaw Festival’s production of St. Joan, which was well received in the press. Here's Gord, with a bit of energy, relaxed with Valentine, Georges Rioux and his wife, Sharon Gray -- in what feels like a world away from Paintings Below Zero.

Truss and Bean at Millennium Park

Monday, January 14, 2008

Our #2 crew: Tim, JC and Art have been re-configuring the plates into the wall shape.



On site at Millennium, the truss goes up. A stunning sunny day. Cold with a wind off the lake. Here's Lucas and that hat, next to the tent with a stack of plates.



On Saturday the Hasak's took us out to dinner at the Metropolitan Club in The Sears Tower. We had to go through sensors, like at the airport, but once up 66 floors in the elevator, and looking out the window on the city below, it felt like we were in an airplane. We lingered, the last guests in the restaurant, as they told us their stories, of adventure and espionage, of history and family, of generations.

Here's how it happened: The Mayor's visit

Friday morning 10:30 AM. Fulton Market.


There’s an eerie silence in anticipation of the mayor.


In the cold room, Patrick Pyszka snaps away: the workshop is absolutely radiant. The crew wraps ice shards in the corner, as if today was just another day.


Gord and Erik cut some pieces


and sweep the dust away. It’s so quiet, it’s almost as if you can hear your breath come out in the cold air.


In the warm room, Ari has cleaned up the buckets and tidied as much as that is possible at The Fulton. A muffled sound on the radio. The bang of the roving forklifts and the slam of the elevator doors roar on around us like a huge thunderstorm, oddly punctuated by beep, beep, beeps. We’re strangely alone here.


By this time, Christine has arrived as the front person for the City of Chicago contingent. Two figures emerge from the elevator, right out of an Al Capone movie: broad shouldered, stocky men with thick necks and sleek camel coats. Manicured, looking straight ahead; plastic squiggly attached to an ear plug. Security. Both stride confidently into the cold room, accompanied by a representative from The Fulton. I hear their shiny shoes squeak across the cement floor, feeling as if I’ve accidentally come across a scene I shouldn’t be witnessing; I’m quite sure neither of them smile. They glance around: a proverbial ‘once over’ and leave the way they came.


Valentine emerges from somewhere in a red coat and a black winter hat, looking stylish and warm at the same time: a combination I thought was impossible under the circumstances. Others from the City of Chicago Cultural office (Kimberly, Brooke, Karen & Christine) gather in their designated place near the door as the press set up their cameras in the center of the room.


Gord and I stand at the door inside the workshop space; waiting. We were to be introduced first by Dot Coyle. I hear footsteps. I think Nathan is the first leading the pack. Then the mayor, in step with his photographer, a light beaming the way, and Alderman Burnett. The fedora tips me off: everyone told me he would be wearing it. This is Erik Olson's photo:


Dot is somewhere in the darkness behind him, and he walks right up to us, so I extend my red glove out to him, “I’m Caitlin Hicks, the aritst’s wife, and this is Gord Halloran.” The mayor shakes my hand and then Gord’s. Away they go. I've got my little camera:



Even so, it seems still in the room, so many witnesses to something only a few people pressed closely, can hear or see. Nehemiah, Amit’s father, sees Valentine in her stylish red coat and, while the cameras are focussed on the mayor, the alderman and the artist,


he invites Valentine to dinner -- as we're all skedded to meet at 6 at Greek Islands. Nehemiah is determined, so Valentine considers, and says yes.


At the end, after Gord takes him through the work, (Pyszka photo)


after a reporter tries to get him to answer a political question, after Jaz is introduced,



and walking out of the cold room, one of the drivers of the fork lifts stops the mayor and asks for a picture with the mayor.


And then it all breaks open, spontaneous laughter and relieved conversation all around as the cameras pop and snap. Our crew poses for photographs, too. Katie says something, she’s a bold gal. They have an exchange to which everyone laughs.



We all walked together back towards the elevator, and Gord led him into the warm room, where somehow we started talking about guns. The buy back program which the mayor had instigated a few years ago. How they all get melted and they’re just pieces of steel. I’m not a Chicagoan, nor a member of the gun club, this idea seemed good to me. “You’re the opposite of Al Capone,” I said, “melting guns instead of using them.” Ironically, in his fedora, he could have been from Central Casting.

Finally he was safely back in the elevator with Amit and Nehemiah. We said our good bye’s and thanks you’s, and I remembered: invite the mayor to the opening of Paintings Below Zero -- on January 31st. I put my red thumb up and said, “See you at the opening.”



Then, we turned towards another room, where the cameras set up again for an interview with the artist.



Afterwards, lunch.


(Patrick Pyszka photo)

An email from Brooke: look for coverage of Paintings Below Zero/Museum of Modern Ice “on NBC, FOX, WGN, CLTV, CBS tonight. A FOX feature will run at 9 pm tonight with Amy Freeze and a CBS feature with Vince Gerasole will run at 6 pm. A far as the other stations go, expect to see coverage on the news at some point tonight and/or tomorrow morning.”

Supper at Greek Islands, guests of Nehemiah and Amit Hasak.



For more photos of the installation-in-progress, go to:
http://www.museumofmodernice.com/aboutArtist/

Chicago Mayor visits Paintings Below Zero

Tomorrow: The Mayor

Friday, January 11th, 4:37 AM



From high above the pavement: a few wandering taxis and a host of empty lights against a grey sky all around. Another night of non-stop thinking; we both thrashed in the soft sheets, our heads filled with the colorful images of the day, tomorrow's promises.



Tim says he’s been lying wide-eyed, too. I’m in the living room of our suite, much too wired to nod off. Thankfully Gord lies sleeping. The Mayor visits Paintings Below Zero today, at 11:30 AM.



My sister in law wrote me a note yesterday, excited about all the press we’ve been getting. “Nicely done!” she said, “Is that Jaz we saw in the ABC piece? Where are you in this? Does this mean you have hit the "big time"? “

“Dear Debbie: Yes, this is definitely the big time.”

We try not to think about it, just to keep our eyes on the work at hand. J.C. arrived last night, and we greeted him hello at our morning coffee stop. J.C. has worked with us since Italy. He's totally committed, Gets It Done, and we were glad to see him.



He and Tim worked all day today at the Public Art Warehouse, re-configuring the plates.

Meanwhile, back at The Fulton: a contingent of people from the City of Chicago gather in the warm streets outside, waiting for the Mayor’s advance staff to arrive for a once-over. They devise the plan for his visit, which has been confirmed for Friday morning: how the Mayor, his photographers and media will walk through the building, what’s the best route? Can we turn off that banging noise when the tv interviews take place? Everyone’s in on this.

Amidst the brouhaha, the paintings go on. They're glorious today.



Then: Chon, the videographer from "Chicago Works" shows up to get some b-roll, and we break for lunch at Le Peep. Today we induct our waitress into our crew, as an honorable member.



And back to The Fulton to meet with Pam Grimes from WLS, a ‘super station’ - she’s working on a multi-part feature which would tell the story of the making of the paintings all the way through opening. It will be broadcast in Canada, she said as well as across the U.S. Here we are outside The Fulton with her cameraman, Mike D'Angelo.



We spend five hours at the market in and out of the cold room, taking breaks when necessary; (hovering pathetically around the bumpy radiator for the most wonderful flush of warmth). Pam follows Gord as he pours color solution into forms, full of a multitude of brightly colored shards. She interviews Jaz, and even Eric. Keith Klaxton and Sue-Lyn Erbeck from the Chicago Tribune watch the proceedings for a few hours; getting more information for their upcoming article.



I have the best-ever time with Brooke, basking in the grace of her generous personality and sound of her voice. We are both trying to refine a protocol for the press which makes sense both to everyone’s schedule and to Gord’s ability to work so many hours in the cold and still be fresh and available for interviews.



There is so much interest from the press, that each well-intentioned and planned five minute interview morphs into ten minutes, then fifteen, sometimes forty. Three hours yesterday, five hours today. The visits have been unexpectedly long; but it's a good thing if Gord can handle it, as it seems each reporter or camera person gets lured into the story, the beauty, the excitement of this project. Here's another Patrick Pszyka photo, below.



Finally after 4 we are released. After squash at 6, dinner with Colleen Duke and her husband, Kieran, at 8. Colleen is the Academic and Cultural Affairs Officer at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago and we’ve been corresponding via email ever since the blog went up, even though her offices are literally across the street. We have several things to organize in the next month but our schedule is so full. There was this gap today, after everything.

Here we are, at a new Italian restaurant, Marcello, very close to the L, where we dined late into the evening, our speech peppered with remembered words from our stint in Italy, “prego”, “Cin Cin”, and “Panna cotta”. More on that, see our Italy blog: (http://www.paintingsbelowzero.blogspot.com)



Colleen said, “I’ve lived in this city for twenty something years, and I’ve never been so excited about February in Chicago.” She was, of course, referring to Paintings Below Zero at Millennium Park.

In a few hours: Mayor Daley visits Paintings Below Zero at The Fulton.

Paintings Below Zero Press Week

January 9, 2008



It feels like our last week at The Fulton as Friday, the plates are scheduled to be packed out for re-configuration at the Public Art Warehouse. We noticed street banners along Michigan Avenue this morning! The weather, which has been warm, is a bit cooler today. And of course, there's the political buzz from the primaries. This gem of a photo was taken by Patrick Pyszka.(You can see more of his photos on the City of Chicago website: http://www.museumofmodernice.com/photoGallery/) Here's another:



Frank Mathie from WLS Chicago ABC arrived this morning, just after a huge painting was separated from its giant cookie sheet in the workshop at The Fulton. But once the camera crew got inside the cold room, we saw three or four multi dimensional, multi colored paintings, and all sorts of activity.



A beautiful surprise. The pallets and paintings looked a bit like a jigsaw puzzle across the frozen floor.



The noise level was chaotic while Erik and Tim began sawing through the ice pieces.



Here’s Matt wrapping.



Ari and Katie moved huge pieces.



Everything was in motion, a flow of color. My camera kept blinking red -- too cold. The broadcast on ABC aired at 5pm. Check it out online.
http://abclocal.go.com/wls/story?section=news/local&id=5880775



Lunch, a first for the crew at “Le Peep”. At 1, Tim and I met staff at The Chicago Cultural Center for a meeting about all the ‘what if’s of the next few weeks: what’s involved in the move to Millennium Park; how’s the truss system going to work? When are the docents being trained? Are lights going to unveil the painting? Can people touch the work? How is the rink painting going to be made with daily skaters? We all agreed on one thing: “until this piece is up” not every detail will be known.

Meanwhile, two reporters from The Chicago Tribune came to the suite to find out more about Gord's process for producing these works, for a large feature later on in the month. Here’s Keith Klaxton, Sue-Lyn Erbeck, Gord and Christine Carrino at the hotel.

Modern Ice press week, day one

Tuesday, January 8, 2007

From my window I can see the tops of two skyscrapers rise into the clouds. And while it’s not exactly a ‘view’ of the lake, there are visible corridors of water beyond the buildings.



We moved rooms. James Dannecker, Night Manager at Hard Rock, gave us the penthouse, a complete apartment, weirdly without a kitchen, but a stunning city view on three sides. Here’s James in our Van Morrison suite. (A perfectly good suite! There was a noise, Gord couldn't sleep).



We’re up high, on David Bowie’s floor, along with other like buildings and I can see a man on his phone in a corner office, his hand on his waist, locked in conversation. It’s dusk, after a full day, and most people have gone home. It was midnight by the time our stuff was transferred to the new suite. We stood at the huge windows, the night city at our feet, watching lightning storm through the heavens, and rain fall in millions of drops down, down, down to the sidewalk below.



Up way too early. Three hours today at The Fulton Cold Storage with two television crews: one from the City of Chicago, a show called “Chicago Works” with Katie Kijowski. (She’s an excellent listener with very good questions).



Here she is with her cameraman. (she later thanked me for recommending they do their interview in the warm room). After their interview, another crew, this time from Fox News had arrived in the cold room.



So then that interview ensued with Amy Frieze. By the time they had each gotten extra footage where the crew was making pallets and working with colorful shards,



by the time we wound our way through the maze of rooms at The Fulton, dodging swerving fork lifts, down the famous red staircase, it was already 3:15.



Here’s Amy Frieze and Gord in the warm room, and by contrast Brooke and Amy surrounded by Paintings Below Zero in the you-can-see-your-breath room.



J.C. and Erik Olson are due tomorrow, but Gord calls me at the club to say that Erik’s already arrived. Erik's been with us since the 2006 Olympic Winter Games, when Gord represented Canada at the Cultural Olympiad with Paintings Below Zero.



Erik, Jaz’s buddy from Emily Carr College of Art and Design, where they both went to art school. Erik, who baptized Gord as “The Don”. World traveler, artist in his own right, a wicked sense of humor, easygoing. I cut my workout short, glad to see this young man, who has become our friend over the years we’ve been working together.



Wednesday morning at Intelligentsia, the reunion.

Today, J.C. should be here. He was our Main Man last year, (also shared our adventure in Italy) and we're looking forward to his super competent work with the plate set up -- is it already time for the plates? They go out on Friday.

Weekend in Chicago

January 6, 2008

A day off. Finally at dusk, we make a break for it.














A joy to be outside in the open air at Millennium Park.



Wet ice below the blades. A sense of community with everyone out to skate in the unseasonably warm weather.





















Later, we meet Jimmy Willis @ Gord's favorite restaurant.

The difference of one

Saturday, January 5, 2007


It’s practically balmy out today, (6 c) and as winter storms pummel the west coast, things in Chicago are heating up.



Yesterday, there was a feature in the Sun Times. (http://www.suntimes.com/news/metro/725685,CST-NWS-ice04.article)





Then, a reporter from NPR talked to Gord for 45 minutes in the cold room, following the crew around, recording sounds of the making of the paintings for a radio broadcast.



Christine Carrino is doing a fabulous job on Press. She has others helping her, but she and I have gotten to know each other in the past weeks, darting around corners at The Fulton with photographers and reporters in tow, dodging fork lifts and sharing taxis and the radiator in the warm room.


Here she is on the left with Brooke Vane her co-worker, a smart gal from Tennessee with a lovely accent.


Next week, they’re going to invite the tv stations to have a go at the painting making at The Fulton. WLS-TV ABC 7 mentioned the us in a recent news cast, as well as WBBM-AM radio. The Los Angeles Times, and The Contra Costa Times (in the San Francisco Bay area) will feature Paintings Below Zero in their Sunday travel sections.The AP story has appeared across the country and the excitement is growing.

Friday, breakfast at BACI. Today's new interns are learning how the ice will pack on the pallet in preparation for shipping it to the park.



Not a day goes by when Gord and the crew don’t discover some nuance in the process which makes the ice more intricate or layered. Something which streamlines the routine.



A variation on the temperature, a change in the sequence of freezing and warming. Different ways of mixing the paint, different times at different temperatures. A change in when to add the paint to the ice. The cold room is fabulous, from all accounts. No sun, it’s big, and there’s lots of space. No frost build up, just an eerie silence and all those breath clouds.



Lately, its wrap, wrap, wrap. Here’s Ari & Katie.



Jaz took these photos of today's work.



Ari says “it’s getting neon” in the cold room, with purple and green, although Gord reminds us, not in the same tray. Here's the crew, warming at the radiator.



Friday we met with Bridget Basta from the Museum of Science and Industry and Lauren Rosenberg, Programming Coordinator at Chicago’s Department of Cultural Affairs.



To brainstorm: for activities for kids at the museum which tie-in with the science of the work we are doing. Did you know that hot water freezes faster than cold water? Gord said yes, we could collect the small ice shards for the kids. In Italy, it was a hit.















We talked about the difference of one degree.




This morning Ari pointed out his favorite tower in the fog and I saw us all in this vertical city, living the high rise life. Everyone on parallel floors, you can see them in their offices in front of their computer screens across the street. Separated by the distance down and the interior pathways. So many worlds so close together.

There is a building across the way from our hotel, and in the window of this building is a television which is on all the time. In the early hours of the morning, when the sky is dark and you can see the street gleaming with the lights on the trees outside Millennium Park, and the shape of the skyscrapers whose windows are still lit from within, this television flickers away in color, like it’s alive. Like there’s someone in there, who just came back from the refrigerator with a midnight snack. Then the wail of the ambulance, honking down the empty street and I go back to bed.



The crowds have thinned: shoppers and merrymakers, everywhere during the Christmas rush, have gone home. The strange thing is - Air Canada has this 'everybody go to Paris promotion". And I keep hearing French spoken - had several conversations in French in the past few days -- Parisiens are vacationing in Chicago!

Yesterday, I caught Chicago's pride, Oprah, during my two and a half minutes of daily television. Everyone on the show was wearing a green shirt and her guest told us that if American households just changed one light bulb into a compact flourescent bulb, it would reduce emissions as if 800,000 vehicles had been taken off the road. The difference of just one light bulb.

We played volleyball at the Lakeshore Athletic Club Thursday night.





I don’t see how Gord does it, after all those exhausting hours lifting and pulling in the extreme cold, but the volleyball was great for team spirit.









Chris Stover was on my team. Here he is with Rob Stevens, who has written a book called "The Overfed Head" and is the founder of "thintuition". He's been very kind to us, finding us places to eat: good food, reasonable prices.



Rob turned us onto Fox and Obel, but that’s another story.

2008

New Year's Eve

We retreated into our respective corners, recovering from the everywhere-cold and awaiting that hour where things instantly change from old news ‘last year’ to 2008. To potential. To that glittering ‘future’, where anything can happen.



A year ago, Global Warming was the big concern. In Niagara on the Lake, we walked to the exhibit over grass, watching squirrels scamper as if spring were in the air, wondering how much longer this warmth would last, and how creative we would have to be to keep it from slowing us down.


We felt part of The Important Effort, our work bringing consciousness to the problem we all share: that human beings are exceeding the carrying capacity of the planet. As artists, our work is ice. A year later, Jaz signs up for Greenpeace, but the bergs are still melting at an alarming rate, and you have to ask: what is really being done? (www.paintingsbelowzeroinontario.blogspot.com)


This year, we are perched high above the center of the downtown in one of North America’s largest cities.



Global Waming might just be something to chat about at a holiday party, as all things modern are consumable, and all things consumable are wrapped and lit up, glistening for the ubiquitous effort, aimed at The Spender. Silver bells, city sidewalks, red ribbons -- all conspirators. Even the Christmas tree, which still holds a glimpse of childhood enchantment for me, is trotted out, dressed up and put to work.



Still there are things to be enjoyed, and we succumbed without much resistance. Our three-man crew had tickets to a music concert, “The Black Kids”. We dressed up and sat at a table for two at China Grill.


The Hard Rock Hotel teemed with well dressed young visitors; neon yellow wrist bands sorted us from strangers-to-the-hotel and elevators stopped frequently, filled with revellers on a mission. Chicago knows how to party!


Before the clock struck, we had flicked on the television, and Bono was giving a speech about ending world poverty.

A day later, we shared dinner in our suite, as the youngsters told about their New Year’s Eve adventures (flirtations, band music, ear plugs and front-of-the-line treatment from young women at a Mexican greasy spoon).


At the end of our New Year’s supper, we found ourselves in a discussion about the homeless. In the midst of all the glitz and class (even the malls seem like opera houses made for royalty), there is a daily element of people who aren’t on the same ride.


They stand in sub zero temperatures, in worn, dirty clothes shaking their plastic cups, as well- dressed shoppers pass, leaning against the bitter wind. Sometimes a musician on sax or drum. We shell out regularly. Lately I’ve given them chocolates.Ari has struck up a relationship with one of them. The man’s wife has cancer, and at last conversation, didn’t know if she would make it through the night.

This is where we find ourselves at the turn of the year, in a highrise with a view and every convenience just steps away. Busy with our all consuming work, musing about the limited usefulness of our compassion, with the world as it is.



Cement and asphalt underfoot at the turn of the year. No earth visible, everything in hibernation, except human beings. Unless of course, you count the weather. The snow, the crystals. With the difference of a degree, moving towards slush, or towards ice. Alive, somehow in the cold. Precious and fragile. Just like we all, we each, are.