I’ve always loved the way that light was seen, and depicted, by the American painter Edward Hopper (1882-1967). Sometimes, as I’m out and about in an urban setting, I find instances where life imitates his art. In particular, the ubiquitous stucco walls in my area of San Francisco are a perfect surface for the flat planes of light I see in his work, and the diffusing ocean mist also doesn’t hurt. Here are three images, unabashed homages, that I’ve made over the years: “Hopper Morning,” “Apartments at Sunset,” and “Night Entrance.”
You have eight hours of free time in Chicago — two hours one evening, six the next day. For once you get to see more than the inside of O’Hare International. You think you will not visit The Bean. There are so many other things to see before the rains come. Well okay, maybe you will just walk by at a distance and see the crowds and be glad you are skipping The Bean, at least this time. What is The Bean anyway? Is it art, or already a commodity? Warhol might have painted The Bean, but this is 2017, right? Will you have trouble sleeping after consuming a legume of this size?
And yet, something happens — you are pulled, your brain waves curve and flatten and bulge like reflections in The Bean — and you go to there. You go to The Bean. It’s all right, everything will be all right. Surrender to The Bean. It’s The Bean’s world; we only live in it.