through the looking-glass

Through the looking-glass, I recall Lewis Carroll’s metaphor and try to figure out what the world is like on the other side of the mirror’s reflection. I poke at the fragile screen of recent memories and discover that I am able to access an alternate world. Through writing, images, voices, the morning light and clouds are alive. They bear stories; stories which wait to be told. Tonight, it is the story of the windy city that comes to my mind. A week-end in Chicago, windlessly beautiful this mid-February, and here I am sharing my version of the city. From the heights of the Hancock Centre, the allure of the third biggest metropolis in the United States is impressive, infinite skyline: prominent buildings in a variety of architectural styles from classical XIX^th century constructions to the most daring post-modern installations; large straight and wavy avenues; asymmetric roofs and towers; the fine thread of the Chicago River. Down on the ground, North and South of Michigan Avenue, the same impression of grandeur and suspended calm persists.

One might wonder what it means to be a writer or an artist in the heart of this city. How does it feel to work and live, to think and create in a space that seems to wonderfully blend an urban vivid vibe and the tranquility of nature corners? Each has his or her answer to the question. Some might remember Sarah Bernhardt enthusiastically throw: “I adore Chicago! It is the pulse of America”. Or, it is true: the Looking-Glass world of Chicago gets one excited, happy, I may say, to walk through the alleys of the Frank Gehry pavilion in the Millennium Park, or childishly play hide-and-seek under the bean-shape public sculpture of Anish Kapoor (better known as "The Bean"), and in the evening, to revive the tonic energy of outdoor skating in the same park, and say “yes” to a romantic promenade in a horse carriage, white or black, colours for every taste. While some might be magnified in joy to greet the lions at the entrance and pass the gate of the Art Institute of Chicago, others could take the challenge to measure the meaningful silence of the painting galleries inside, and work to decipher the message and understand the work of art.

The Loop of Chicago has something magnificent, some sort of magic spell for each and every one of us. It conveys a strong vibrant presence, a call to be present to its slightest breath and smallest movement. I do believe that the city invites you and me to be creative and playful and adventurous in searches and wanderings. And also to be quick! Why not? Most surprisingly, this invitation seems to be incessantly renewed, afresh. Early in 1883, Mark Twain already sensed the wind of rapid changes that was to be the landmark of Chicago, for tourists or not: “It is hopeless for the occasional visitor to try to keep up with Chicago-she outgrows his prophecies faster than he can make them. She is always a novelty; for she is never the Chicago you saw when you passed through the last time" (Life On The Mississippi). Yes, Chicago moves fast and we are moved by it: in this movable dynamics, we are free to guess and invent the “alternate world” the lies beyond reality. Through the looking-glass or eyes wide-open, the world is never one; away from the mainstream of the downtown glee and glamour, there will remain darkness and poverty, sorrow and insecurity..