Walking down Milwaukee Avenue, I saw a woman rolling a giant wheel wrapped in white cloth and thick brown rope. The object seemed to be pulling her along. I wondered if she wanted help, and asked, “What is it?”
“Oh, it’s a prop I use in my performance pieces,” she said. She told me she covered the edges in flour, rolled a pattern on the ground, and talked about it. She said it had something to do with the environment. How did people react to her rolling the wheel down the street?
“It’s funny, but men mostly ignore me,” she said. “They pretend like they don’t see it. One Polish woman helped me. She didn’t speak any English. She was in her mid-50s and was extremely strong. I was very impressed.”
We walked over the bridge to Grand Avenue, and I apologized for not being much help–the wheel seemed to have a mind of its own.
“It’s like life,” she replied. “It just keeps rolling along, and when you stop too long it’s usually hard to get going again. So it’s better to keep on moving.”
Two guys were hanging out at the back of a River North gallery on Saturday, talking about an artist-run space that recently shut its doors after only a few months of operation. “What did they expect?” one said. “most artists aren’t even smart enough to draw right, much less run a gallery.”