Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

When Earl and I first moved into the neighborhood, we were walking home from dinner and noticed a man sleeping under a well-lit railroad bridge. He had a sleeping mat and blankets and all of his belongings arranged a certain way. This was the first time I noticed a person sleeping outside in our neighborhood. He’s the only one I’ve seen thus far.  I was concerned for his well-being.

My daily morning walks take me under that bridge and there’s never a trace of the man sleeping under the mattress. If we walk by after dark, he’s there. People walking by maintain a distance. I’ve never seen him harassed. He looks well-fed and relatively groomed/cleaned. Earl and I, like the other passerbys at night, don’t disturb him. But I remain concerned for him.

*

Last night it was very warm and he was sleeping on top of his comforter arrangement. I’ve seen him out there in 40ºF weather and I’ve now seen him in 85ºF weather. I’m concerned that he’ll still be there trying to sleep at night under the bridge during the cold weather. Being new to the neighborhood, I don’t know what he does during the winter. One night I we were walking by on the opposite side of the street and he was sitting up, arranging his blankets to get comfortable. That’s when I could tell that he seemed to be in fairly good health and had a chance to clean up somewhere.
I know that there are some in our society that simply choose to be homeless. I’ve never seen him on the street during daylight hours. A part of me wants to leave something for him, like a sandwich or bottle of water or something, but I’m hesitant because I don’t want to infringe on his space. That seems to be his territory during the non-daylight hours and he’s obviously sleeping under the light for safety’s sake. Some people have their own deal and just want to be left alone. I certainly don’t want to chase him out of there without another place for him to go. At least the bridge is wide enough that he’s seemingly protected from the elements. 

My concern remains. I don’t like seeing folks in our society without the necessities. We should be beyond this by now.
*I was originally going to include a photo taken from halfway up the block last night in this blog entry but decided against it. It seemed to violate the man’s privacy, even though there were no discernible features in the photo, and I want to remain respectful of his space.

The pictures I’ve posted of our neighborhood have had a residential look to them. We are surrounded by many streets with beautiful houses, some new, some old, all interesting. This only shows part of the picture, in actuality Earl and I live in an area that has deep industrial roots.

Within two blocks of our home are large industrial buildings once occupied by the Bell and Howell company and by the Manz Printing Company. Many other companies were once located in this area. Several of the buildings have been repurposed into residential living space. There’s also quite a few craft brewing companies and high tech startups in the area.

Our street is bisected by one of the METRA lines that bring commuters in and out of Chicago. The railroad line is elevated, so our neighbors “across the street” are actually across the street, over several tracks and across the street again, yet they are on the same street name with a difference of one house number.

Last weekend Earl and I went to the Art Festival which featured exhibits outside and inside some of the repurposed buildings from the early 20th century. It was a beautiful day and it was awesome to see the inside of these buildings. Great care has been made to bring the buildings to their former glory.

It’s all very encouraging. We could use encouragement these days.

So this weekend we went to the Chicago Expo at Navy Pier. I wasn’t sure that I would enjoy browsing art for the afternoon, but after gazing upon several interesting performance pieces, displays and the like, there was one piece that moved me to tears.

I never thought I would shed a tear over art.

A search on the Internet found this article about the particular piece that helped me find tears.

RAGNAR KJARTANSSON Scenes from Western Culture/Architecture and Morality/World Light

The gallery’s rear rooms contain videos on nine monitors comprising Scenes from Western Culture (2015), seemingly innocuous slices of contemporary life that range from nineteen minutes to a little over three hours. In one, jazz pianist Jason Moran and mezzo-soprano Alicia Hall Moran dine at Upstairs at 21 in Midtown. Framed by a bland mural of Grand Army Plaza and Bergdorf’s, they enjoy an uneventful dinner with barely audible conversation ranging from music to basketball players to wine. As in all but one video, the camera is stationary, and the film loops with an imperceptible edit. In The Pool, the painter Elizabeth Peyton swims laps for twenty-four minutes; the frame tracks her laterally as in Olympic coverage. Her yipping terrier doggedly follows her progress. In Dog and Clock, a Shetland Sheepdog lies on a rug before a grandfather clock in Nobel laureate Halldór Laxness’s house museum. When the clock oddly strikes at 4:05, she dutifully barks after the fourth chime. In The Boat, a man docks a vessel on a lake, helps a woman out who walks away, then unmoors the craft and putters off-screen, returning a few minutes later with another woman, repeated for over two and a half hours. It is gorgeous and monotonous, although briefly Chaplinesque when he inadvertently falls into the drink. Burning House is a ninety-two minute shot of exactly that, in a Swedish wood, the conflagration seen against dark conifers. Lovers shows the luxury of day sex in an affectionate and explicit scene between a man and woman with interchangeably long hair.

There is something about the composition that moved me.

In addition, when I glanced over there was a young man in a flannel shirt standing by himself looking at the work. He stood with his hands crossed the exact same way that I cross my hands when I am lost in contemplation. 

While I thought the afternoon would be spent looking at things I wouldn’t really comprehend, instead I found myself thinking, pondering, and feeling motivated to be creative in my own way.  

A wonderful afternoon.