August 25, 2022

AUGUST 25, 2022

Englewood elevated trail

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kari lydersen 4 deep faith in sahar mustafah’s the beauty of your face A young Palestinian-American woman develops her faith to grapple with grief, loss, and growth. farooq chaudhry 8 changing the narrative around abortion isn’t easy Natalie Moore’s The Billboard dives into the complexities of reproductive justice within the Black community and offers no easy answers. tebatso duba ........................................... 9

diana solís and ‘the space between us’ The Pilsen photographer shares moments from her long career and rediscovers her neighborhood.

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paintings. reema saleh........................................... 25 IN THIS ISSUE SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY The South Side Weekly is an independent non-profit newspaper by and for the South Side of Chicago. We provide high-quality, critical arts and public interest coverage, and equip and develop journalists, artists, photographers, and mediamakers of all backgrounds. Volume 9, Issue 24 Editor-in-Chief Jacqueline Serrato Managing Editor Adam Przybyl Senior Editors Christopher Good Olivia Stovicek Sam MarthaStecklowBayne Arts Editor Isabel Nieves Education Editor Madeleine Parrish Housing Editor Malik Jackson OrganizingCommunityEditor Chima Ikoro Immigration Editor Alma Campos Contributing Editors Lucia Geng Matt FranciscoMooreRamírez Pinedo Jocelyn Vega Scott Pemberton Staff Writers Kiran YiwenMisraLu Director of Fact Checking: Sky Patterson Fact Checkers: Ella Beiser, Savannah Hugueley, Phan Le, Kate Linderman, Yiwen Lu, Bry Moore, Grace Vaughn, Grace Del Vecchio and Kate Gallagher Visuals Editor Bridget Killian Deputy Visuals Editors Shane Tolentino Mell Montezuma Staff Illustrators Mell ShaneMontezumaTolentino Layout Editors Colleen Hogan Shane Tolentino Tony Zralka Webmaster Pat Sier Managing Director Jason Schumer Director of Operations Brigid Maniates The Weekly is produced by a mostly all-volunteer editorial staff and seeks contributions from across the city. We publish online weekly and in print every other Thursday. Send submissions, story ideas, comments, or questions to editor@southsideweekly.com or mail to: South Side Weekly 6100 S. Blackstone Ave. Chicago, IL 60637 For advertising inquiries, contact: (773) 234-5388 or advertising@southsideweekly.com ARTS ISSUE ILLUSTRATION BY TURTEL ONLI

This year’s Arts Issue features artists from all over the South Side and in many stages of their careers. Begin with the poignant photography of Diana Solís that captures decades of Pilsen life, explore the fantastical imagery of Martha A. Wade, and dive into the colorful palettes of Beverly-based artist Hollie Davis. You’ll want to hear sculptor Roman Villarreal from South Chicago talk about the joys of working with stone (and check out our website to see a video tour of his studio), and end on the oil paintings of Little Village from Sebastian Silverio, whose art is featured on the cover. Included in the issue are also reviews of a book on faith and a play about abortion that get philosophical; a poem that explores the changing meaning of ‘South Side’; and a moving essay on finding safe haven in the city. The selection of artists in the issue came through crowdsourcing efforts led by our Arts Editor, Isabel Nieves—some artists were recommended several times, showing just how popular and important artists are to our communities. Dig in, enjoy, and make sure to check out some of these artists’ upcoming exhibitions and books.

A $20 million federal grant will provide the creation of a nature trail in Englewood that has been in the works for over a decade. 1.75 miles of unused railroad will be transformed into a nature trail running west from Wallace Avenue to Hoyne Avenue. Although bikes will be able to access the trail, the trail is being designed with nature as the main focus, rather than centering the trail for bike use. While design work is still being done, renderings of the trail are hoped to be shown to the public at the end of the year. The nature trail would not only provide a space to be physically active within the community and create economic development, it is also an opportunity for the community to connect with each other. There will be a “community benefit contract” so that families won’t be displaced due to the project. The grant has been provided by the Rebuilding American Infrastructure with Sustainability and Equity program.

activism

q&a with fantastical artist martha a. wade Wade has spent the last decade making art inspired by lucid dreaming, spirituality, and empowerment. reema saleh ‘art is my first love’: q&a with beverly artist hollie davis The Connect Residency Founder talks about art accessibility, the creative process and her Chicago connection. sarah luyengi chiseling in from the outside Sculptor and painter Roman Villarreal on growing up in the margins of the city and the joys of working with stone. jacqueline serrato cincelando desde las afueras El escultor y pintor Román Villarreal habla sobre su vida en los márgenes de la ciudad y sobre el gozo de trabajar con piedra. jacqueline serrato, traducido por alma campos the exchange The Weekly’s poetry corner offers our thoughts in exchange for yours. chima ikoro, yoo chang calendar Bulletin and events. south side weekly staff q&a with oil painter sebastian silverio The Little Village artist incorporates in his

Cover art by Sebastian Silverio

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PHOTOS BY DIANA SOLIS

“In late 2019, I sort of timidly started getting back into it,” Solís explained. “And then in 2020, I started going out and BY KARI LYDERSEN

“Neighborhood stuff, you name it: supermercados, family struggles or store closings or unique places opening in the neighborhood.”Shealsophotographed the rising gay and lesbian movement (as it was known then), protests with ACT UP, and gay and lesbian pride parades in the city. “In the early ’80s, there were still bar raids,” she noted.“This was an era where there were a lot of things happening—demonstrations, anti-war stuff in the late sixties, Casa Aztlan, the Chicano movement. I was working with grassroots organizations, becoming a youth organizer. And the artists who were doing murals were incredibly inspirational,” she said. As a kid, Solís’s family would take annual trips to her hometown of Monterrey. She started going to Mexico City later to explore the museums and culture, and in 1983 she moved there. She did odd jobs to survive, working as a secretary and photographing cakes in a French bakery. A friend helped her get a job at the television station, Televisa, basically as a “paparazzo,” she said.

Monterrey, Mexico; her parents had moved back and forth across the border and worked picking cotton in Texas. After her father got a job as a machinist at the Rock Island Railroad in Chicago, her mother traveled from Mexico with Solís, still a baby, to join him. She and her seven siblings grew up in Pilsen in a home stuffed with “rickety shelves” of jazz records and books— “everything from magazines to Mexican poets [and] Irish poets.”

Solís got her BFA in photography at the University of Illinois at Chicago and delved into photojournalism, shooting in Pilsen and other neighborhoods for the Lerner Booster local newspapers, the West Side Times, and the Chicago Tribune

Diana Solís and ‘The Space Between Us’

The photographer shares moments from her long career and rediscovers her neighborhood.

4 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022 ARTS

“My job was to photograph the movie stars. It wasn’t really what I wanted to do, but it was a job and I needed a job… After a year, I got fired because my way of photographing was much more documentary-style—very Rolling Stone. The editors hated it. They were like, ‘We have to have the woman in three changes of clothes, she has to look sexy.’ It was an incredibly sexist environment. I had to wear heels on the job and a skirt.” She also co-founded a lesbian women’s café and feminist center in Mexico City called Cuarto Creciente. In 1997, Solís lived in Paris and traveled around Europe. On first stepping out of the train in Paris, at age forty, she was so overcome by the majesty of the famous city that she cried. By the turn of the millennium, she was back in Chicago and focused on painting and drawing, creating a prolific stream of surreal, whimsical and fantastical works. Her thousands of photographs and negatives were stored away, and she stopped thinking of herself as a photographer. But during the pandemic, that changed.

Growing up in Pilsen in the 1960s, Diana Solís wandered the streets with her mother, marveling at the Bohemian architecture and imagining the buildings were “something out of a fairy tale.” That sense of imagination and eye for detail would take Solís around the world, photographing and participating in social movements and everyday life. But she remained firmly rooted in Pilsen, known back in the day as 18th Street. More recently, during the pandemic, Solís began taking early morning walks around Pilsen. She rediscovered her neighborhood—and her love for Solísphotography.wasbornin

“What happened for me, what probably happened for other people, too, during the pandemic and the lockdown, was that you really got to see things that you haven’t seen in a long time,” she said. “I slowed down tremendously. And that slowing down enabled me to look at things and look at the community in a different way. I call it slow photography now.” Many of the changes were sad and disturbing. “I saw heavy, heavy gentrification. The process was very clear. When I grew up here you would just have to go to the corner store for your tortillas or whatever. Obviously, there was a bar on every corner, literally like maybe five bars to a street. Those mom-and-pop stores are gone now. A lot of places disappeared, and others are in the process of disappearing.

In September, Solís is releasing a book of photography, Luz: Seeing the Space Between Us, featuring some of this work. She fundraised successfully for the book’s publication, and is holding a launch event on September 24 at the National Museum of Mexican Art. The book is filled with portraits of people and places: the Teloloapan muffler shop, the shuttered Panadería del Refugio, the Steak N Egger diner, Angel’s Tires, teacher Rosalio Mancera, punk musician Martin Sorrondeguy, poet Gregorio Gomez, artist Delilah Salgado, and many more.The collection “reflects the resilience and complexity of my home community,” SolísThesaid.title references the relationships and interactions behind the photographs.

“What is it that’s between us, between the photographer and the subject? What happens in that moment? Or what happens when you are communicating with somebody? Oftentimes we don’t see these things, because we’re just not paying attention to them. But there’s so much

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 5 ARTS walking in the morning. I had my camera phone, an older-model iPhone at the time, and I started to just take pictures of things that I hadn’t seen before—because we were just always on the go and moving so fast that I really didn’t pay attention to how the neighborhood I know has been changing.”Shedug out a DSLR camera a friend had given her, and learned how to use it—a whole different world from the analog photography she knew so well. She also got an updated iPhone. Though she had spent so much time in Pilsen, she was seeing it in a new way.

Oftentimes we don’t see these things, because we’re just not paying attention to them. But there’s so much going on in that supposedly empty space.”

PHOTOS BY DIANA SOLIS

The panaderías, there’s only one left. So I started documenting and photographing these“Andplaces.eventually I ended up moving from places and buildings to actual people, starting with my neighbors,” she said. She launched “a little online series” that she called “This is Pilsen during the Pandemic” on Instagram. “I started following a lot of young photographers, Latino photographers, Latinx photographers, from the community,” Solís noted. “I’ve become friends with a lot of them. And I’ve been so enthralled with them and what they’re doing.”

– Diana Solis

“What is it that’s between us, between the photographer and the subject? What happens in that moment?...

Solís is also in the early stages of a new project documenting the concept of chosen family in Latinx and LGBTQ+ communities, featuring some of the same artists and photographers who have As in the early days, Solís’s work and life are intertwined as she lives and documents the artistic and social movements, and everyday rhythms, of communities in Pilsen and beyond.

“But at this stage of my life, I’m not going to immerse myself in chemistry anymore. I have a lot of allergies, I battled a lot of cancer,” so working with chemicals in a dark room “is not the healthiest thing Solís continues to teach photography, including master classes and a program with local women. “It reminded me of what I did a long time ago, in 1979 when I worked at Mujeres Latinas en Acción,” the Latina social service and empowerment organization. “I was teaching the exact same thing, but with film cameras. We had built the darkroom in the kitchen and the women would come in, take the class in the morning, then develop their film in the evening.”Now

Kari Lydersen leads the Social JusticeInvestigative specialization in the graduate journalism program at Northwestern University and works as a journalist and author covering energy, politics, and more. She last wrote about bridging Chicago’s food gap during COVID-19.

6 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022 going on in that supposedly empty space. How do you cross those boundaries?”

“I slowed down tremendously. And that slowing down enabled me to look at things and look at the community in a different way.”

PHOTOS BY DIANA SOLIS

Solís is also working with Nicole Marroquín, a professor at the School of the Art Institute, to organize and make accessible some 9,000 negatives from her work in Mexico, Peru, Paris, Spain, Chicago and Marroquínelsewhere.“helped rescue my archives five years ago from a friend’s basement, where they were stored for over twenty years,” Solís said. “Most have never beenSolísseen.” plans to continue working in digital photography, even though it “doesn’t hold a candle to using film and silver gelatin prints.”

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“You’re just so immersed. Chicago gave me a path to do this kind of work, and that allowed me to go anywhere and do this. It’s been quite a ride. And now it’s like I’m coming full circle.”

– Diana Solis

“We live the things we do in our artwork and photography,” she said.

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 7 ARTS PHOTO BY EMILY SOTO PHOTOS BY DIANA SOLIS

LIT

Echoing calls for “thoughts and prayers” in the wake of mass shootings now operate as a type of doublespeak. The devastating frequency of shootings has laid bare the actual meaning of these calls, particularly when invoked by conservative politicians: no meaningful change to gun regulations will be made, and any mention of regulation will be cast aside attempts to “politicize” a tragedy— a tragedy that, shockingly, can only be prevented from occuring again through political action.

Deep Faith in Sahar Mustafah’s The Beauty of Your Face

Sahar Mustafah confronts this erasure head-on in her 2020 novel, The Beauty of Your Face. The book opens by introducing us to Afaf Rahman, the principal at an all-girls Muslim high school in the South Suburbs of Chicago, who ducks into a small reflection room for a mid-day prayer break when a gunman enters her school. The Afaf we meet in the moments before the shooter enters the school projects a self-assured confidence and anchored piety, but this wasn’t always the case. Instead of the shooting propelling the novel forward, it instead travels back in time to chronicle the journey of how Afaf became who she presently was. What follows is the story of hardships and heartbreaks that shaped the lives of an immigrant Palenstinian family in Chicago, and sheds light on both the possibilities and limitations of faith for helping one make sense of the world, as well as the varying cruelties of life. The shooting is not the first time Afaf’s life is ruptured by loss—in fact, her life was shaped by it. When she’s in grade school, her older sister Nada goes missing. The pain of Nada’s absence—not knowing whether she had run away or been murdered—slowly overcomes her family like ink drops in a glass of water, saturating them with grief and confusion, and adding more pressure to the fault lines already present in their relationships with each other. Even before Nada’s disappearance, Afaf’s mother was emotionally distant and cold with her and her younger brother Majeed, feeling alienated within herself as she struggled to navigate her marriage, motherhood, and leaving Palestine. To make matters worse, Afaf’s father had been spending time with another woman, adding even more stress on his marriage and family. Now with Nada gone, Afaf’s mother’s sense of alienation deepens and leads to a nervous breakdown.

The effect has been to sour the mention of prayer and faith with notions of hypocrisy at best, and a tool used to insidiously enshrine political power at worst. But narrowing our perception of faith to how it is abused by people in power erases the many victims whose faith is central to how they process the carnage. It concedes a powerful tool for healing, communal care, and collective action to people who manipulate it to carry out an agenda that perpetuates more harm, more violence.

The family’s tipping point comes when Afaf’s father, grieving Nada and struggling to take care of his wife, develops a drinking problem and gets into a nearly fatal car accident while intoxicated. In the aftermath of this experience, Afaf’s father does something that, to his family, is unimaginable; he asks his wife for forgiveness for the pain that he has caused, and says he thinks God has given him a second chance on life, to make things right. The acknowledgment of pain and its association with religion feels like a betrayal to Afaf’s mother: “So you’ve found religion?” she asks, her words “slick with disgust,” her eyes “emerald, dangerous.” “After all of these years you think God will ever forgive you? I certainly will not.”

This tension between faith and pain animates the rest of the book. Majeed is disinclined to explore faith, but Afaf reluctantly warms up to it. The women she meets at the mosque are warm and welcoming, offering her respite from the harassment and ridicule she experiences from girls at her high school and from the white boys she haphazardly hooks up with. But the more comfort and healing she finds in faith and community, the more her mother pushes her away. For Afaf’s mother, pain itself becomes an idol: “The loss of her daughter, a troubled marriage, a lonely existence in a country where she never felt at home—she has no intention of relinquishing such injustices to prayer and fasting. Mama’s pain is supreme and hers alone; no higher being can ever claim that.” After nursing open wounds her entire life, Afaf’s mother refuses to let her efforts go to waste; she cannot see religion as a means of liberation or healing, but only as a threat to the way she has been able to make sense of her life for all of these years. And in service of that pain, she often lashes out at Afaf, mocking her faith, even attempting to rip off Afaf’sEmbracinghijab.

faith does not mean that Afaf no longer feels or is ignoring her pain. The pain of losing Nada, the pain of her mother’s contempt, and the pain of growing up in the shadows of her parents’ broken marriage hurt her deeply, and continued to hurt her. But she doesn’t try to “pray away” her shattered heart and the trauma that comes with it. Rather, she is able to place her life within a larger context of Divine Mercy and destiny, helping to resolve the feeling that life and its sufferings are arbitrary. It’s a

8 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022

BY FAROOQ CHAUDHRY

A young Palestinian-American woman develops her faith to grapple with grief, loss, and growth.

At its core, The Billboard, a play by journalist and author Natalie Moore, grapples with abortion by exploring how several generations of Black women talk about abortion and how it relates to self-care, reproductive justice, community, and economic disinvestment. By showing the conflict between the main characters and a group of antiabortion advocates, the play navigates important questions surrounding abortion and suggests that there is more to reproductive justice than the right to choose. But the play does not offer the readers or the audience any definite answers; The Billboard demonstrates how we know less than we think, and serves as an invitation to open ourselves up to the perspectives and experiences of others.

BY TEBATSO DUBA

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 9 false paradigm to place belief in God and that everything happens for a reason on one side of the spectrum, and feeling and dealing with pain on the other; the same God that created Afaf’s circumstances created the means for her to deal with them, too. Throughout the book, Afaf is often trying to come to terms with the fact that she still loves and empathizes with her mother, yet has suffered tremendously at her mother’s hands. There isn’t a clean resolution to this struggle, other than Afaf’s commitment to struggling with these emotions—she doesn’t let the trauma define her, but finds meaning in how she moves forward with and from it. At every point in Afaf’s journey with faith, others inflict pain and project insecurity onto her: her mother sees faith as hypocrisy and betrayal; on her first day of wearing a hijab she’s called a raghead; and when she reports potential childabuse to state authorities after she sees a young Muslim girl in her classroom with bruises on her body, an elder member of the mosque becomes cold with her, subtly implying that she broke a community norm by getting the state involved in familyPerhapsaffairs.it is these very challenges she faces after deepening her religious practice that strengthen her faith and give her the emotional fortitude to become the Afaf we meet in the book’s opening. When the gunman eventually finds her hiding in the closet, he sees in her an enemy who is destroying the country, responsible for his own personal failings in life. But even in this moment, knocking on death’s door, Afaf has the bravery to challenge his conceptions of her, and inquire about the pain that he has felt in his life. Even in this moment, on the cusp of obliteration, Afaf is able to work through fear and pain and meet the circumstances with her full self. This is a novel about transformation and tragedy in which trauma, faith, family and love all clash, and Mustafah does not afford her characters—or readers— an easy way out of the mess. With prose that strikes a balance between subtleness and sharpness, she puts forth a gorgeous portrayal of a young Palestininan Muslim woman growing in her faith and navigating the challenges that can clip its wings, while highlighting the contours that loving one’s family can create along the way.While reading this book, I was reminded of Dr. Sherman Jackson, an Islamic theologian and professor at USC, who once prayed to be blessed with “the words, wisdom, humility and courage to speak truth not only to power but also to pain.” Faith-washing the pain and trauma that people experience, without acknowledging and trying to help one heal from the pain itself, does nothing more than push people further from away faith. And given the epidemic of gun violence in the United States, among a myriad of other social inequities that systematically produce pain and trauma, I could say that there is no better time to read this book than our current moment. But that would be incomplete— it’s always the right time to read a book that excavates some of the most painful yet profound facets of life that give us meaning. ¬

Sahar Mustafah, The Beauty of Your Face $16.95 (paperback). W. D. Norton, 2021. 320 Farooqpages.Chaudhry is a writer, editor and UChicago law student. This is his first time writing for the Weekly.

The play takes place in contemporary Englewood. Once a flourishing neighborhood, it has lost much of its population and housing stock in the last several decades. Long subject to systemic disinvestment, Englewood is now also threatened by gentrification, which forms the backdrop of the play’s events. The story begins in the leadup to a local election where the incumbent City council member Cheryl Lewis faces off against Demetrius Drew, a community activist known for his advocacy for Black liberation. However, he is also described as a sheep in wolf’s clothing and there seems to be an unclear, hidden agenda behind his campaign against Lewis. Drew

LIT

EasyAbortionAroundtheChangingNarrativeIsn’t

A review of Natalie Moore’s The Billboard dives into the complexities of reproductive justice within the Black community and offers no easy answers.

“Faith-washing the pain and trauma that people experience, without acknowledging and trying to help one heal from the pain itself, does nothing more than push people further from away faith.”

The protagonists are three women who are the pillars of the Black Women's Health Initiative. Dr. Tanya Gray is the chief practitioner at the clinic, leading its daily operations. Her care for patients reflects her deep dedication to the community’s well-being.

Moreover, The Billboard subtly reminds us that all women should be heard. This reminder comes through Williamson, who is on the board of the clinic and is lesbian. In a scene between Dr. Gray and Williamson, Dr. Gray mistakenly implies that Williamson does not understand the weight she feels on her shoulders as a woman fighting for abortion rights and reproductive justice. Williamson responds by affirming that whether or not she and her wife fall pregnant, she knows what it feels like to be disrespected, ignored, abused, and tired. Her sexuality does not make her immune to the pain of having her rights threatened and other societal issues that marginalized women face. All four women contribute to the fight to change the narrative around abortion, women’s autonomy, and reproductive justice. The play makes the argument that no single generation carries the torch, and no age is left behind or left unscathed by societal injustices and Additionally,prejudices.neither of the women give the same reason for having an abortion. Their reasons range greatly and illustrate their complexities. For example, Kayla shares her story of falling pregnant at seventeen with her high school boyfriend. She was not ready to become a parent and did not want to wait to go to college. Lewis had an abortion for health reasons. More specifically, the doctors told her there was a high chance that giving birth could be life-threatening. Dr. Gray had an abortion because she knew she and her partner were not ready for a child. Each reason for abortion is valued and respected equally. Despite deftly navigating questions and themes surrounding reproductive justice, the play does not land on any definitive, finite answers. There is no single institution to blame for Englewood’s sordid economic situation in the play, and there is no single reason for having an abortion. There is no single generation to designate as the “social reformers” and no specific generation to blame for the lack of reproductive rights and reproductive justice. There is no single institution to blame for inequality in reproductive justice, and there is no obvious solution to thisConsequently,problem. the audience is left with a harsh but potentially liberating truth that we know much less than we think. How do we find out more? My takeaway was that the key to gaining more information is being open enough to listen to as many perspectives as possible—something the lead women of the play repeatedly do. To ask is to admit that you do not know. To acknowledge that you do not know is to cut through the fear of allowing yourself to be vulnerable. This vulnerability creates the opportunity to build bridges across different communities and mindsets.

The Billboard also reminds us that much of the societal problems we face today are intergenerational. Brown shares her experience and reason for having an abortion during her teenage years. Dr. Gray, Dawn, and Lewis’s ages range from the mid-40s to mid-60s. They each share their perspectives of and experiences with navigating abortion in this community, which they feel often lays the world's problems at the feet of Black women.

Natalie Moore, The Billboard. $16 (paperback). Haymarket Books, 2022. 100 Tebatsopages. Duba is a lifelong learner who enjoys exploring and telling stories of people, events, and projects from an optimistic philosophical lens. They last wrote about the Haji Healing Salon.

Dr. Gray, Brown, and Williamson grapple with this reality when they confront the public’s reaction to their message of abortion as a self-care practice. They realize that many people believe their concerns are unwarranted because women already have abortion rights. Their response is depicted in discussion amongst themselves about how Engelwood is an example of a community that lacks the resources, programs, and economic support for people to exercise their reproductive rights. For this reason, Williamson and Dr. Gray work hard to keep the Black Women's Health Initiative open.

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Kayla Brown, who is on the cusp of her twenties, is a program assistant at the clinic and preparing for college. She is strategic and knowledgeable about managing the clinic’s public relations over social media. Amid their efforts to change the narrative surrounding abortion endorsed by Drew, she keeps the smaller operations of the clinic running and teaches courage when she publicly shares her abortion story. Dawn Williamson is the chair of the board of directors of the clinic. Her responsibilities primarily entail ensuring that every aspect of the clinic runs efficiently and to lead strategic development initiatives for the clinic’s long-term success. Each woman is a strong leader in their own right and brings insight to the conversations around abortion. To retaliate against Drew’s campaign and abortion stigmas, they create a new billboard that reads “Abortion is selfcare.” Since the community is split on whether abortion should be a legal right or not, it is not surprising that describing abortion as self-care conjures mixed reactions of support, indifference, and hostility. “Self-care,” in this case, is not alluding to the commercialized selfcare practices like face masks, brunches, or extravagant vacations, but rather something that has the potential to heal deep intergenerational wounds in many Black families and communities. Hence, to fuel their activism, Dr. Gray, Brown, and Williamson accompany the message of their billboard with the hashtag #TrustBlackWomen which becomes a trending movement on social media within the world of the play. Through their activism, The Billboard facilitates a conversation about reproductive justice being more than just about reproductive rights. These two terms are sometimes mistakenly understood to be synonymous, but the conversations and reasoning that the three lead women present to the audience illuminate a critical difference between the two.Whereas reproductive rights refers to having the right to choose to have an abortion, and places the access to these decisions in a legal framework, reproductive justice broadens the concept to include economic, social, and health factors. For example, while marginalized groups have the right to healthcare, they may not have continued access to comprehensive sex education and public programs that help feed mothers, children, and infants. So, while the right to abortion—and reproductive healthcare in general— are a notable foundation, advocates working for reproductive justice know there is more that goes into decision-making and genuine autonomy.

The Billboard reminds us that vulnerability can be our greatest strength when taking steps toward resolving our societal issues.

10 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022 LIT puts up a billboard that reads “Abortion is genocide” right next to the Black Women’s Health Initiative, a “medical clinic and reproductive rights center.” Drew’s campaign sees gentrification in Englewood as an imminent threat that is pushing out an already declining and under-resourced Black community. The culprit for the supposed danger of gentrification, he argues, is Black women getting abortions, thus “killing” the future Black generation. He claims that the government and businesses are less likely to invest in a community that is considered dispensable and declining. As a result, he believes Englewood will continue to experience divestment until it is taken over through gentrification.

The protagonists do not find solace in politicians or policies through their battle. Instead, they find refuge in their community and each other. Dr. Gray, for example, has a sister circle that listens to her and provides emotional support as she shares her grievances with their efforts to change the narrative around abortion. Even though the sister circle only lent an ear, their time, and words of encouragement and support, it meant Dr. Gray knew she was not alone and gave her the energy to keep going.

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 11 ARTS

Using wood palettes to capture the skin tones of her subjects, her paintings depict Black people and people of color with beauty and strength. Some of her paintings feature children communing with spirit guides. Others show constellations dotting the night sky, her subjects untethered from the world below. Framed against the city, her subjects feel abstract and figurative, contemplative and full of life.

How do you describe yourself as an artist? I’ve been painting for about ten years seriously. I grew up watching my father create art. He’s one of the artists that helped start the Mural Movement in the 1960s—Eugene “Eda” Wade. But I was scared of the starving artist stereotype. So I actually went to business school and had six different careers before I came about ten years ago and said, “No, I want to paint, I want to be an artist. This is what I want to do.”

Q&A with Fantastical Artist

Martha A. Wade

South Side Weekly spoke with Wade about her art practice, her creative process, and her long career as an artist and curator. This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Working in the arts scene for the past ten years, Martha A. Wade’s art seeks to immerse everyday experiences into the fantastical. As the daughter of artist Eugene “Eda” Wade—one of the pioneers of the 1960s Mural Movement in Chicago—she carries much of that legacy forward. Wade works primarily in oil, acrylics, and mixed media on wood, often using collage to mix digital art, ink, and painting together. Through ethereal dreamscapes, star constellations, and vibrant colors, her artwork uplift people’s spirits and explore the connections between her subject’s interior selves and environments.

After cycling through six different careers, Wade is making art inspired by her muralist father, lucid dreaming, and a deep curiosity about spirituality.

BY REEMA SALEH

When did you first become an artist? When did you know you wanted to start creating things? I think that was five years old when I would pause cartoons and draw them, trying to draw every single character. I remember growing up watching my father create and working on these huge canvases and being like, "Wow, I want to do that,” but too young to have one of my own. What influences your art and the things you like to paint? Dreams influence my art. I am someone who’s a lucid dreamer. I’ll dream something, and I’ll remember it. So I’ve had dreams before that I’ll see a painting where it’s literally sprouting up things, and then I’ll paint that. I take a lot of pictures of my kids who are such great muses, and they’re such great models over the years. Then, everybody—movies, photos, books. I take a million photos as references. What does your creative process look like? The best way is where I bring it together in Photoshop, where I’m planning out my painting. I’ll have my reference in Photoshop and then start creating from there. I like to look at it first digitally, and then start to make the painting.

Silent Preparation - Martha A. Wade

I think that was five years old when I would pause cartoons and draw them, trying to draw every single character. I remember growing up watching my father create and working on these huge canvases and being like, "Wow, I want to do that,” but too young to have one of my own.

¬

– Martha A. Wade

12 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022

Reema Saleh is a journalist and graduate student at the University of Chicago studying public policy. She last reviewed José Olivarez’s debut poetry collection Citizen Illegal.

Self Love - Martha A. Wade

Now, I’m doing a lot of mixed media. I make my prints and collage that onto wood and then add paint on top of it. The collage started as a way to work smart, not hard—where I’m starting with my own painting that I’ve done. I make a print, I cut a piece of that out, [and] put it on wood. And now, I can color my own coloring book. My idea is to let me start with that and make something even greater from that. Does spirituality inform or inspire your work? I’m very spiritual. I’m not necessarily going to church every week, but the things [like] morals and thinking about a higher power or being open to the universe. So whatever you believe in—Buddha, God, Allah, the universe—I put all that in the work. I haven’t studied each one down to the last word, but I have studied several religions, and I find a lot of commonality among them, where they’re speaking to different groups of people. Maybe God is called a different thing, but it’s very similar—the notion that the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. I put that overall theme in my work. A lot of the work has star constellations, so it’s all about dreaming, looking beyond yourself, looking out there…like what is out there? What are your favorite pieces that you’ve gotten to work on? I really like this piece called “Silent Preparation.” There’s a little boy, and part of his face is covered with plants. I’m a plant lover, so I incorporated that. Right now, I want to do art where the theme is connecting with yourself emotionally, physically, and mentally, but then also with nature—being grounded, appreciating plants, appreciating animals and other Anotherpeople.favorite is called “Knowledge is Power.” It’s a boy with a bird on his shoulder. It’s a piece that my dad and I collaborated on together. This painting was my favorite of my dad’s. He did a print for me on canvas. I cut that out and collaged it onto the jacket of the boy, and it became a new piece. You feature a lot of young people and people of color in your paintings. How does this empowerment drive your own work? I started this series called Childhood Dreams & Conquered Fears. I’ve been working on this series for a long time, maybe six or seven years. My daughter was having issues because of her hair— it’s so beautiful. It’s big and curly, and so, she’s being teased at school, saying that her hair is too big. So I painted this piece called “Zora, The Conqueror” and it’s based on her and her big red hair with curls. I wanted her to see how beautiful she was and how beautiful her hair was. Secondly, to combat a lot of the stereotypical things we see written about people of color, the fear, and the violence—showing the worst of us on TV. I wanted my art to combat that. I was imagining if people of all races would put images like this in their homes, how you could grow up seeing that and maybe start to see people of color in a positive light and not only listen to the backstories that are shown on the news and other social media and other platforms. There are a lot of beautiful cityscapes in your work. What about Chicago inspires your art? When I was younger, I wanted to be an architect, so some of that shows up in my work. I like order. I like the lines— it makes me feel calm or feel a sense of organization in the painting. I do like to pay homage to the city where I grew up and the city that I love. I definitely put cityscapes to show love to Chicago, but also the architecture is beautiful to me. I also feel like architects were the first artists before there was art for fun or figurative. What are you most proud of with your work so far? I’m proud of what I give to other artists. It’s not only about me, and I want to wrap them up and help other artists along the road as well, especially ones that maybe don’t like to deal with the business side. I love the community that we’ve cultivated in Chicago among the artists, and we now all help each other. What do you hope people feel when they see your art? I hope that they feel inspired and empowered to fulfill their dreams, especially young people looking at themselves and achieving things— whether it’s riding a bear, conquering your fears, or in a boat towards the city. I want people to see themselves as powerful and as beautiful and to feel good. And to feel empowered to go after what you want to do in your life.

ARTS

Knowledge is Power - Martha A. Wade

Lucid Dreamer - Martha A. Wade

'Art Is My First Love': Q&A with Beverly Artist

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 13

South Side Weekly spoke with Davis about the inspiration behind her work and her journey as an artist. This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity. Tell us a little bit about yourself. What has your journey been like as an artist? I’ve been interested in art my whole life. It’s very powerful. What resonated with me was that many artists that I’ve met, or knew growing up, use their art to build community and deepen the emotional and communal connection. When I was twelve, my mother had me take the ACT and I scored high enough to go to college. In return, CPS provided me with a free class, which was an Art History class, at the Art Institute. Just being around paintings and movement really empowered me. I always hear that you’re either a “fine artist” or a “commercial artist” and I think I bridge those two—I’m more of a community artist. I’m interested in creating art from any perspective. Art is very personal to you. Can you speak more about that? I was dealing with a lot of uncertainty when I was young. When I was making art, it was very isolating—I was in college, it was in a very rural area, and I felt like I lost my audience. I felt a little adrift because the people who I knew didn’t understand my passion. It made me question a lot. At the time, I didn’t even

The Connect Residency Founder talks about art accessibility, the creative process and her Chicago connection.

BY SARAH LUYENGI ARTS

Hollie Davis

Hollie

Davis is an artist born and raised in Beverly. Davis’s art focuses on expression, authenticity, and urban living through the use of color, shapes, and complex backgrounds. Her portraits portray people who have achieved despite facing adversity—from Nipsey Hussle and LeBron James to Frida Kahlo and Josephine Baker. She is also the founder of the Connect Residency, a virtual international program that offers emerging artists the opportunity to connect with each other and share their progress. The residency will have its second cohort this fall.

KING VON AND LIL DURK – HOLLIE DAVIS

My parents both had a very hard time growing up. My mom grew up on the South Side of Chicago with not much, and my dad grew up in Mississippi during the 1960s. While I’ve been involved in art, I’ve also been involved in politics and social justice. My dad had me going to political meetings since I was thirteen years old. I very much engaged with the world of art and community-building. It’s the best place to find authenticity. What usually inspires your work? What people recognize in my work is the background, details, and color. I try to show that we’re more the same than we are different in the people that I portray. The backgrounds are complicated because I think that it’s our background that individualizes us. I also make the backgrounds abstract because sometimes we’re not even aware of what’s in our backgrounds. It’s also, in a way, a symbolic

“I love you” to everybody who has put me in spaces where I’ve seen art that looks like this. It gave me enough of an education and background in art that I could pull from so many different types of historical arts. Make sure that you’re grateful and thankful for everyone who has helped you because I believe that art truly moves people. How would you describe your art process? I mainly use acrylics typically when I’m doing portraits. When there’s a complicated background, I draw everything with pencil first, and then typically I paint the background. I think that if the background is painted first, it looks like it’s receding a bit more than if you paint it after the portrait. Then I paint the portrait, which I mainly do in black and white because I think as individuals we tend to think of everything in black and white. Like us and them. How do you tell a story through your art? Well, I collect images that I think are culturally impactful. It’s a very instinctive, almost visceral experience—I kind of look at what I’ve been painting. I’ll pick a photo that will suit the idea. I’m more of a planner. I think that comes from the fact that for the last three years I’ve been booked once a month. So it depends on what shows are coming up - if it’s a group show, or solo show, or a theme. I always try to focus on expressions

14 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022 know what I liked to make. My technical skills were a lot newer and less developed. As an arts major, I had this critique from this artist, and he goes, “This will never sell, and you only have five pieces here—five pieces won’t make a career. You’ll just end up in the Black History section, like Kara Walker.” Well, Kara Walker is a millionaire, but I won’t get into Sothat!Iwas a little unsure at first, but art is my first love. Are you thinking of a particular audience when you’re creating your art? My audience tends to be a storytelling,Anyonedocumentary-watcher-type-of-crowd.Netflix-who’sinterestedinhistory,andtheideaofunderstanding the two together through a lens that you don’t ordinarily see. When you say that you’re into art or want to buy art, it’s a very one-percenter thing to say for some people. I think it’s critical that artists can speak to what they do. How does your home shape your identity and influence your art? My parents collect art—they love art. I don’t remember this but my parents told me that as a baby, I would be really irritable so they would walk around the house and talk about the art pieces. That was the only thing that would calm me down. When I was growing up in Beverly, there was a sense of the adults being really involved with the young people. I felt like any time I showed any sight of aptitude in an area, it was encouraged to the max. My parents also made sure that we traveled, and we also have family abroad. Overseas, there’s a very strong preservation of culture while in the U.S. there’s this idea that culture recycles every twenty years. I’ve been going to see art in museums, since I was four years-old, every year. There’s this intentionality in investing in their cultural resources.

ARTS

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 15 instead of accuracy. Accuracy is important but it’s like, how do you create the most authentic expression? It comes from practice, figuring out what you like and what you’re good at. The Bus Stop Series started in 2020 because we were all locked indoors. Urban living is so important because it allows you to be almost anywhere and interact with people. My biggest thing, though, is that I make sure to spend twenty hours a week artistically. But it’s weird when someone asks you how you do it! It’s just like, I don’t know, I do it! What in Chicago inspires you? The hustle! I mean that in the best way. I always say to my out-of-towner friends that Chicagoans love a project. They love a hustle! When I’m at the lake, I hear people talking about nonprofit ideas or ways to open businesses. I think that Chicago can compete with any city in the world when it comes to art—there was a comic book exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Lucien Caillouet at Grand Gallery is doing phenomenal things—throwing shows almost every month. You have, like, Lessie Vernado Dixon and Lisa Taylor at the Morgan Arts Complex, which is who I work with, and they throw events. I think that’s a true advantage of Chicago—people are your resources. I want to talk more about the Connect Residency. What is it and what inspired you to create it? In 2020, I was accepted into a virtual international residency from Mango Residencia in Argentina. We met weekly, for about six weeks, and showed each other our progress. The people were from New Zealand, Spain, Mexico, Argentina, but I was the only Black woman. In 2021 we had a group exhibition in France, and it really motivated me. I could really offer something to people that could make us all a lot more interconnected. I wanted to create something for the busy, emerging artist that doesn’t have time or money. A woman, Meg’n Barba, had opened a wellness studio and gallery [a few years back] and [in February 2021] we became really great friends. We ended up talking about our goals. I was like, “I would love to put together this program, it would be virtual, and I just need a place to have the exhibit,” and she said, “Well, why don’t you have it here?” She became my first community-partner.

A lot of people applied to the program—I got about thirty-five responses, and I chose eight people because of the amount of space I had in the gallery. Half of the participants were from Chicago and the other half were from Nigeria, Brazil, Turkey, and France. I want the Connect Residency to be a program that’s contracted by universities, art centers and other institutions to help underrepresented artists. If you have connection after connection after connection, then ideally all you need is motivation. I’m currently working on the second cohort, and I received about forty applicants. I've consistently been encouraged and supported - I’m trying to create a professional development experience that gives that to artists. ¬ You can learn more about the Connect Residency and view Hollie Davis’s work at Sarahholliedavisart.comLuyengiearned her B.A. in English with a concentration in creative writing from the University of Illinois at Chicago in 2014. Some of her non-fictional work has appeared in Borderless Magazine. She last reviewed an anthology of Chicago poetry.

THE STOP PILSEN – HOLLIE DAVIS

My parents collect art—they love art. I don’t remember this but my parents told me that as a baby, I would be really irritable so they would walk around the house and talk about the art pieces. That was the only thing that would calm me down.–Hollie Davis

BUS

SERIES

ARTS

16 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

The hammer and chisel are his main tools and South Chicago is his base. Sculptor and painter Roman Villarreal is the definition of an outsider artist. Homegrown and armed with a lifetime of experiences growing up in the far South Side, near the Indiana border, he likes to get dirty and will occasionally light up a joint in the studio. His working-class approach was usually “too much” for the highfalutin artworld. In the 50s, Villarreal’s parents were doing farmwork in Michigan when they heard that there was a shortage of workers in the steel mills in Chicago. “So my father, his brothers, and a few other people that were all together came here and got hired on as laborers in the steel mill. But little did they know, they were strikebreakers,” he told the His father was hired and managed to put in thirty-something years that almost afforded the family a middle-class life. Villarreal remembers that South Chicago and East Side were racially and ethnically segregated, but there was a real sense of camaraderie among the children whose parents worked in the mills. They played outside everyday from dawn to dusk with minimalVillarrealsupervision.worked a “real” job for about a year before he was drafted into the military. That is where his political consciousness began to take shape. He began to think about his identity and where he fit in.

ARTSSERRATO

“It was through these brothers from California that I became a Chicano. It was an education on what was the big picture, because a lot of us didn’t even know there was a war going on, let alone the issues that were [affecting] our people in the Southwest, the farmworkers, because we were involved in that were all the men who were the children of the men who got displaced by the steel mills… When the mills closed, that’s when everything changed for everybody. Alcoholism, drugs, divorce, depression, all these things He witnessed this community collapse through the lens of an artist. During these hard times, Villarreal decided he was going to take his fate into his own hands, for the sake of his children and family. “We were [nomadic], we used to work every single festival fair within a certain radius, every weekend we were working somewhere to make that extra But he also suffered his own losses. He lost his younger brother to drug addiction, and he knew many guys who He quietly rationalizes it as a consequence of the times. “Very few choices were given to us at that time. So mistakes were made, we stepped into the black market, you know, the underground and all that. And bad enough, if you were an unemployed steel worker with minimal education, now to be an unemployed steel worker with a criminal record…”

An upcoming documentary by Steven Walsh potentially called “The Gray” will feature Villarreal and the stories of other residents coping with the end of the steel industry. As a child, Villarreal loved to play with clay, and later on, he became proficient at working with other types of organic materials. There were other artists in the area who were of Mexican descent and influenced him, like muralists José González and Francisco and Vicente Mendoza—but not many sculptors. Years would pass before he met other sculptors who arrived from Mexico and out of state. Villarreal went to art school only tangentially. He would sit in on his friends’ classes at the Art Institute and take what was useful to him. He believed that academia, at the time, repressed his creativity.“That’s one thing about being an artist, there’s almost nothing you can’t work with. And that’s the beauty of being an outside artist, because a lot of techniques that you learn, they’re frowned upon in education. In other words, you don’t work with this material, you don’t mix this with this. They try to make you not use black… But when you’re an outside artist and learning, you use everything and anything until you figure out that this work, that don’t work, it’s trial and error,” he said.

Chiseling In From the Outside Sculptor and painter Roman Villarreal on growing up on the margins of the city and the joys of working with stone.

BY JACQUELINE

PHOTO BY JACKIE SERRATO

“My first medium, my passion, has always been stone. I’ve always enjoyed something about working hard and sweating as a part of life. You feel like you will accomplish a hard day’s work because we’re workers.”

But with the pandemic, many quarries have closed and sourcing the material has become expensive. He’ll sometimes use more affordable or less resistant minerals like antimony, and is always scouting for material in states as far as New York or California, though the shipping is costly.

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 17 ARTS

Serrato is the Weekly’s editor-inchief.

A couple of years ago, the Intuit Museum, whose mission is to showcase outsider art, approached him about exhibiting his work. They visited his three studios and picked a few dozen artworks, mostly sculptures, to curate. While they had to put the exhibition on pause during the worst of the pandemic, the show opened June 15 and is Villarreal’s first-ever retrospective show, which captures “the struggles and triumphs that followed the fall of the steel mill industry. He tackles complex subjects through creative experimentation and in a diversity of media," said Alison Amick, chief curator at Intuit. The museum will host other programming throughout the run of the exhibition, which closes January 8, 2023. ¬

The Southeast Side felt isolated from the rest of the city and Villarreal had to find ways to expose his work. There was a growing sense of solidarity among Latinx artists in the 70s that led to collaborations and friendships across neighborhoods, especially with and between artists from Pilsen. An art festival by the Museum of Science and Industry brought together many of these artists every fall. Those relationships spawned early conversations with González about the idea to open a Chicano museum—it never materialized, but did lead to others developing the National Museum of Mexican Art, he said. Villarreal was among the artists who were featured in the museum’s first show. Afterward, however, he and some of his contemporaries went back to being “outside artists” and their continued pursuit for recognition. Most sought institutional recognition; Villarreal mostly wanted to connect with his community and make ends meet. Villarreal has worked with all kinds of stone. “My first medium, my passion, has always been stone. I’ve always enjoyed something about working hard and sweating as a part of life. You feel like you will accomplish a hard day’s work because we’re workers,” he said. He’s used to working with limestone, which he calls an “urban stone,” and he’s not shy about scavenging for it in his own neighborhood, in empty lots and formerly industrial sites. He also works with a softer limestone from Texas, alabaster from Colorado, and feels honored to have worked with Italian serpentine, and his favorite, African serpentine.

– Roman Villarreal

A short video tour of Villarreal’s studios will accompany this story online at bit.ly/romanoutside and can also be accessed using this QR Jacquelinecode.

PHOTO BY ISABEL NIEVES

Cincelando

POR ALMA CAMPOS

Un documental de Steven Walsh potencialmente llamado “The Gray”

Pero aquí estaban pasando demasiadas cosas como para escuchar realmente a esos soldados que regresaban a casa. Con los salarios de las fábricas y acerías, las familias obreras en el área por primera vez se convirtieron en dueños de casa, compraban automóviles y abrían negocios. Pero de repente, las acerías comenzaron a cerrar y la vida de las personas cambió. Casi de la noche a la mañana su propiedad estaba siendo embargada, recuerda Villarreal. Los llamados “sangrientos años 90” son “cuando todo se puso difícil. Quiero decir, la tasa de homicidios comenzó a subir”, dijo. “Pero todos estos jóvenes que estaban involucrados en eso eran todos hijos de los hombres que fueron desplazados por las acerías…cuando las acerías cerraron, fue cuando todo cambió para todos. Se vió alcoholismo, drogas, divorcio, depresión, todas esas cosas que no estaban ahí”. Él fue testigo del colapso de esta comunidad a través del lente de un artista. Durante estos tiempos difíciles, Villarreal decidió que tomaría su destino en sus propias manos, por el bien de sus hijos y su familia. “Éramos [nomádicos], solíamos trabajar en todas las ferias de festivales dentro de un área, cada fin de semana trabajábamos en algún lugar para ganar ese dinero extra”, dijo. Pero también sufrió pérdidas. Perdió a su hermano menor a las drogas y conoció a muchos muchachos que fueron a prisión.

Villarreal racionaliza tranquilamente esto como una consecuencia de esos tiempos. “Se nos dieron muy pocas opciones en ese momento. Así que se cometieron errores, entramos en el mercado negro, ya sabes, lo clandestino y todo eso. Y lo malo es que si eras un herrero desempleado con una educación mínima, ahora eres un herrero desempleado con antecedentes penales…”

“Fue a través de unos camaradas de California que me hice chicano. Fue una educación sobre cuál era el panorama general, porque muchos de nosotros ni siquiera sabíamos que había una guerra, y mucho menos los problemas que estaban [afectando] a nuestra gente en el suroeste [de EEUU], los campesinos, porque no sabíamos, ni siquiera veíamos la tele en esos días”,Eldijo.vecindario de South Chicago tuvo la mayor cantidad de muertes per cápita en los Estados Unidos a causa de la Guerra de Vietnam y hay un monumento permanente en la histórica Parroquia de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe en honor a estos hombres en su mayoría mexicoamericanos.

El martillo y el cincel son sus principales herramientas y el barrio de South Chicago es su base. El escultor y pintor Román Villarreal es la definición de un artista rebelde o ‘outsider’. Villarreal está armado con toda una vida de experiencias en el sur de Chicago, cerca de la frontera con Indiana. De los que le gusta ensuciarse y, de vez en cuando, prende un churro en el estudio. Su enfoque en la clase obrera suele ser “demasiado” para el mundo del arte pretencioso.Enlosaños50, los padres de Villarreal trabajaban como campesinos en Michigan pero escucharon que había escasez de trabajadores en las fábricas de acero de Chicago. “Así que mi padre, sus hermanos y algunas otras personas que estaban juntas vinieron aquí y fueron contratados como trabajadores en la acería. Pero lo que no sabían es que eran rompehuelgas”, le dijo al Weekly. Su padre fue contratado y logró trabajar ahí por treinta y tantos años que casi le dió a su familia una vida de clase media. Villarreal recuerda que los barrios de South Chicago y East Side estaban segregados racial y étnicamente, pero había un verdadero sentido de camaradería entre los niños cuyos padres trabajaban en las fábricas. Jugaban afuera todos los días desde el amanecer hasta el anochecer con mínimaVillarrealsupervisión.tuvoun trabajo “de verdad” durante aproximadamente un año antes de ser reclutado por las fuerzas armadas. Ahí es donde su conciencia política comenzó a tomar forma. Empezó a pensar en su identidad y en dónde pertenecía.

desde las afueras El escultor y pintor Román Villarreal habla sobre su vida viviendo en los márgenes de la ciudad y sobre el gozo de trabajar con piedra.

PHOTOS BY ISABEL NIEVES

JACQUELINE SERRATO TRADUCIDO POR

“Mi primer medio, mi pasión, siempre ha sido la piedra. Siempre me ha gustado el hecho de trabajar duro y sudar como forma de vida. Sientes como que vas a completar un duro día de trabajo porque somos trabajadores”.

18 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022 ARTES

– Román Villarreal

Quizás su obra de arte más pública es una escultura de bronce de una familia de clase obrera en la entrada del parque Steelworkers llamada “Tributo al pasado” inaugurada en 2015. Villarreal ha trabajado todo tipo de piedra. “Mi primer medio, mi pasión, siempre ha sido la piedra. Siempre me ha gustado el hecho de trabajar duro y sudar como una forma de vida. Sientes como si vas a completar un duro día de trabajo porque somos trabajadores”, dijo. Villarreal está acostumbrado a trabajar con piedra caliza, a la que llama “piedra urbana”, y no tiene pena de buscar esta piedra en su propio vecindario, en lotes baldíos y viejos sitios industriales. También trabaja con una piedra caliza más suave de Texas, alabastro de Colorado, y se siente honrado de haber trabajado con serpentina italiana y su favorita, serpentina africana.

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 19 ARTES incluirá a Villarreal y las historias de otros residentes que enfrentaron el fin de la industria del acero. De niño, a Villarreal le encantaba jugar con la plastilina, y más tarde aprendió a usar otros tipos de materiales orgánicos. Había otros artistas en la zona que eran descendientes de mexicanos y lo influyeron, así como los muralistas José González y los hermanos Francisco y Vicente Mendoza — pero no muchos escultores. Pasarían años antes de que conociera a otros escultores que llegaron de México y fuera del estado. Villarreal fue a la escuela de arte sólo por debajo. Dice que se sentaba en las clases de sus amigos en el Instituto de Arte de Chicago y tomaba lo que le era útil. Creía que la academia, en ese momento, reprimía su creatividad.“Lacosa de ser artista, no hay casi nada con lo que no puedas trabajar. Y esa es la belleza de ser un artista de afuera, porque muchas de las técnicas que aprendes están mal vistas en la educación. En otras palabras, no trabajas con este material, no mezclas esto con esto. Tratan de que no uses el negro… Pero cuando eres un artista de afuera y estás aprendiendo, usas todo y cualquier cosa hasta que te das cuenta que esto funciona, eso no funciona, es prueba y error”,Eldijo.lado sureste de Chicago se sentía aislado del resto de la ciudad y Villarreal tuvo que buscar formas de exponer sus obras. Hubo un creciente sentido de solidaridad entre los artistas latinos en los años 70 que condujo a colaboraciones y amistades entre vecindarios, especialmente con y entre artistas de Pilsen. Un festival de arte del Museo de Ciencia e Industria reunía a muchos de estos artistas cada otoño.Esas relaciones generaron conversaciones con González sobre la idea de abrir un museo chicano; nunca se materializó, pero llevó a otros a desarrollar el Museo Nacional de Arte Mexicano, dijo. Villarreal fue uno de los artistas que se presentaron en la primera exhibición del museo. Después, sin embargo, él y algunos de sus contemporáneos volvieron a ser “artistas de afuera” con su continua búsqueda por el reconocimiento. La mayoría buscaba el reconocimiento institucional; Villarreal principalmente quería conectarse con su comunidad y mantenerse económicamente.

Pero con la pandemia, muchas canteras de piedra han cerrado y obtener el material se ha vuelto caro. A veces usa minerales más asequibles o menos resistentes como el antimonio, y siempre está buscando material en estados tan lejanos como

Jacqueline Serrato es la editora-en-jefe del Weekly.

PHOTOS BY JACKIE SERRATO

Nueva York o California, pero el envío es costoso.Hace un par de años, el Museo Intuit, cuya misión es exhibir el arte de “afuera”, contactó a Villarreal para exhibir su trabajo. Los miembros del museo visitaron sus tres estudios y eligieron unas cuantas docenas de obras de arte, en su mayoría esculturas, para Aunqueexhibirlas. tuvieron que poner la exposición en pausa durante lo peor de la pandemia, se inauguró el 15 de junio y es la primera exhibición retrospectiva de Villarreal, la cual captura “las luchas y los triunfos que siguieron a la caída de la industria de la acera. Aborda temas complejos a través de la experimentación creativa y en una diversidad de medios", dijo Alison Amick, curadora en jefe de Intuit.El museo tendrá más programación a lo largo de la exposición, que cierra el 8 de enero del 2023. ¬ Un breve recorrido en video de los estudios de Villarreal acompañará esta historia en internet en bit.ly/roman-outside y también se puede acceder usando este código QR.

20 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022 HUNTER PROPERTIES 773-477-7070 • www.hunterprop.com Gorgeous Remodeled Units in a Pristine Courtyard Building! Studios available now for $1000 per month. Located in the heart of Hyde Park, walking distance to The Museum of Science and Industry, Jackson Park, and The Univer sity of Chicago. New Kitchens and Baths, Laundry on Premises, Hardwood Floors, Ceiling Fans – Must See! Included in Rent, Tenant Responsible for Electric and Cooking Gas. For more information or to make an appointment to view this apartment call Gordan 1-773-908-4330. Apartments/Rooms for Rent 305 Apartments/Rooms for Rent 305 JO & REMODELINGRUTH We Specialize in Vintage Homes and Restorations! Painting, Power Washing, Deck Sealing, Brick Repair, Tuckpointing, Carpentry, Porch/Deck, Kitchen & Bath Remodeling. *Since 773-575-72201982* Construction 083 Cleaning Service 070 Best House708-599-7000MaidsCleaningServices Family owned since 1999 www.bestmaids.comMICHAELMOVING We Move, Deliver, and Do Clean-Out Jobs 773.977.9000 Movers 123 KELLY Plastering Co. Plaster Patching, Dryvit, Stucco. FULLY INSURED. 815-464-0606 Plastering 143 Accurate Exterior and Masonry Masonry, tuckpointing, brickwork, chimneys, lintels, parapet walls, city violations, We are licensed, bonded and insured. Free Estimates 773-592-4535 Masonry 120 CONRAD ROOFING CO. Specializing in Architectural Metal Work, Gutters & Downspouts, Bay Windows, Clay Tile, Cedar, Shingles, Flat/Energy Star Roof 773-286-6212 The Plumbing Department Available for all of your residential plumbing needs. Lic. & insured. Serving Chicago & Suburbs. Senior Discounts. Call Jeff at 773-617-3686 Plumbing 145 Townhouse for Rent 307 2BD, Den, 2BA, A/C Garage, addl pkg space, washer/dryer, nr campus. $2100/mo. Available! 773-914-7140 Hse/Apt/Off847-630-4172Cleaning 87th & Cregier (1700 E) Room for rent. Grad student preferred. Shared kitchen & bath. Clean & quiet. 773-301-7773 Let Us Help Build Your Business! Advertise in the Business & Ser vice Director y Today!! Ad copy deadline: 1:00 p.m. Friday before Wednesday publication date. To Place your ad, call: malone@southsideweekly1-773-358-3129oremail:.com SERVICE DIRECTORY To place your ad, call: 1-7 73-358-3129 or email: malone@southsideweekly.com Ad copy deadline: 1:00 p.m. Friday before Thursday publication date MASONRY, TUCKPOINTING, BRICKWORK, CHIMNEY, LINTELS, PARAPET WALLS, CITY VIOLATIONS, CAULKING, ROOFING. Licensed, Bonded, Insured. Rated A on Angie’s List. FREE Estimates &ExteriorAccurateMasonry 773-592-4535 BUSINESS & SERVICE SHOWCASE: 708-599-7000HouseCleaningServices Family owned since 1999 www.bestmaids.com MICHAELCOMPMOVINGANY Moving, Delivery and Cleanout Jobs Ser ving Hyde Park and surrounding 773-977-9000communities PICTURE YOUR BUSINESS HERE! Advertise in the Business & Ser vice Director y today!! Build MOVINGSerPlaceBusiness!YouryouradintheBusiness&viceDirectory!PLASTERING - PLUMBINGMICHAELCOMPMOVINGANY Moving, Delivery and Cleanout Jobs Serving Hyde Park and surrounding 773-977-9000communities KELLY PLASTERING CO. PLASTER PATCHING FULLSTUCCODRYVITYINSURED (815) 464-0606 Call 773-617-3686 License 058-197062#: 10% OFF Senior Citizen Discount Residential Plumbing Service SERVICES INCLUDE: Plumbing • Drain Cleaning • Sewer Camera/Locate Water Heater Installation/Repair Service • Tankless Water Heater Installation/Repair Service Toilet Repair • Faucet/Fixture Repair Vintage Faucet/Fixture Repair • Ejector/Sump Pump • Garbage Disposals • Battery Back-up Systems Licensed & Insured • Serving Chicago & Suburbs RoofingConradCo.ofIllinoisInc. SPECIALIZING IN ARCHITECTURAL: METAL WORK: • Cornices • Bay Windows • Ornaments • Gutters & Downspouts • Standing & Flat Seam Roofs ROOFING WORK: • Slate • Clay Tile • Cedar • Shingles • Flat/Energy Star Roof (773) 286-6212 CONSTRUCTIONROOFINGCLEANING708-599-7000HouseCleaningServices Family owned since 1999 www.bestmaids.com MASONRYMASONRY, TUCKPOINTING, BRICKWORK, CHIMNEY, LINTELS, PARAPET WALLS, CITY VIOLATIONS, CAULKING, ROOFING. Licensed, Bonded, Insured. Rated A on Angie’s List. FREE Estimates &ExteriorAccurateMasonry 773-592-4535 Business!BuildYourPlaceyouradintheBusiness&ServiceDirectory! HELP BUSINESSYOURGROW!AdvertiseintheSouthSideWeekly’sBusiness&ServiceDirectorytoday!! malone@southsideweeklyemail:.com HELP today!!Director&BusinessWtheAdvertiseBUSINESSYOURGROW!inSouthSideeekly’sServicey CLASSIFIED Section He lp Want ed 00 1 Help Want ed 00 1 Advertise in the South Side Weekly Today!! Let Us Help Build Your Business! The South Side Weekly will get your malone@southsideweeklyor773-358-3129Call:noticed!businessemail:.com

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 21 LIT

Submissions to this prompt will be featured in a special Literary Edition of the South Side Weekly and must be submitted by Friday, July 22nd, 2022 This could be a poem or a stream-of-consciousness piece. Submissions could be new or formerly written pieces. Submissions can be sent to bit.ly/ssw-exchange or via email to chima.ikoro@southsideweekly.com.

In this special segment of The Exchange, we’re sharing many thoughts in response to a few prompts.

“things are different now,” i say making a u-turn in front of the unmarked ford explorer. the license plate says michigan T he Exchange is the Weekly’s poetry corner, where a poem or piece of writing is presented with a prompt. Readers are welcome to respond to the prompt with original poems, and pieces may be featured in the next issue of the Weekly The Exchange was first published in the August 19th, 2021 issue of the Weekly, making this issue the first anniversary of our poetry corner. The Weekly is extremely grateful for every submission and reader, and we look forward to growing this section that we’ve built together, one poem at a time.

THIS WEEK'S PROMPT: “WHAT IS THE BIRTHPLACE OF YOUR ARTISTRY?”

Explorer by chima “naira” ikoro my dad says “don’t make a u-turn at the intersection” as we leave La Fruteria on Commercial. identified a corner, round and worn tells me, before he owned a house or had a credit score a bunch of plain clothes cops in an unmarked car snatched him up and showed him what urban renewal feels like. i don’t know how to ask if he was sure those were even acops.transplant tells me tales of their South Shore escapades as if i am the one that’s new here. i guess i move further north with every apartment but my mom has only ever lived South…far South so far, when i moved to Hyde Park she told my aunt that i lived on the north side.

22 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022

LIT

Which is why many residents resort to Uber or owning their own car if they can afford one. Biking is an option during the summer time. But once, at a bar, I saw a woman who had knocked out her whole set of front teeth and I was so confused when she smiled at me because I was sure it was not Halloween. She said it happened in a biking accident—so if Chicago is not turning into a major biking city like those you can find in Europe, like Strasburg in France, maybe it’s because Midwesterners like to drink more heavily than people who reside in the metropoles of the other side of Western dominance—Western Europe. Like a flower, in our global, cultural landscape, it is still the Rose. And our imaginations, the little prince who waters it daily. I’ve learned to appreciate the English language for its aplomb but the people who were born and raised in the English language do not know how alienating of a language it can be. Spanish has urgency and fire. It is the voice of the restaurant class. It feels a bit disrespectful to work in Chicago restaurants without trying to learn a little Spanish. The communication barriers are quite literal—most often with the person who washes dishes or polishes. Without learning how to speak Spanish, I do not know how else to reach out to the humanity of the person doing the grinding job that is being the dishwasher. Grime and sweat and smiles—gracias they say to those who are able to leave the mess—the dirty dishes, endless glassware & trash of excess and fête. How else do you learn more of their life, of their humanity?

I was on the corner of North and Western on the way to picking up some ketamine from my friend Felicia—a code name for my friend of Yoruba ancestry—who studied to be a pharmacist like his father, from Nigeria. Felicia, like me, is a first-generation immigrant. Unlike me, he was born here in Missouri. Unlike him, I immigrated here when I was six—as a Corean, re-casted Asian, re-born American. Living in the United States. This cursed country—the land of the free. Or was I stolen here? Did I come here willingly? How could a child know— who came here illegally. whether it was a choice? a vocation—a curse— a blessing? to carry the English brand as my second language?

In the 80s though, things were different—at least that’s what my Uber driver Summer said. She grew up in Chicago. She said she liked my energy and told me she remembered the moment when it changed—the gun violence. She said she remembered when it was all sunshine during summer in Chicago and you could run and laugh and play as kids with other kids. She said it was a diverse neighborhood where she grew up. But then it changed—noticeably in the 90s—everyone left until there were only poor, Black people. Two Black men, her brothers, she referred to them, she was out by her porch when she heard two gunshots and she saw—like birds—the older boys who grew up with her shot dead side by side. “That’s when it all changed for me,” she said, “it all went downhill from there.”

It must have because it takes too goddamn long for the #49 and #X49 bus that goes up and down Western and the #73 bus that goes west and east on Armitage to arrive. Sometimes it takes forty minutes—literally—for one of these buses to make its way down these major streets but for the majority of people who are coming home from work, it is an infuriating reality that it could take twenty, often thirty, if not forty minutes just to catch a ride on one of these deprived, depraved modes of alleged transportation.

While waiting, my eyes caught eyes with a woman—Black—with lashes that furled and blinked, cute and pouty, at me. She had a round face that was pleasing to me. We both knew we had been waiting a while. “It’s coming,” she said. I said, “is it?” She said “the bus—it says it’s coming.” “It’s always coming,” I said. She laughed. The trains are better. Though she began to tell me of the time she was stuck on the CTA. “Someone had died—that’s what I thought,” she said, “I was stuck there—just waiting.” Chicago is a lot like that—there’s a lot of waiting. And learning how to be patient in the waiting, like waiting out the winter—that is Chicago’s soul, its richness, its rhythm—the wait. “you got lucky,” I said, “the city didn’t charge you $5 to get off that train.” She laughed because she knew the city was siphoning money from its residents. She was Black. You couldn’t be Black in Chicago and not know how the city was gutting a whole community of people of money–jobs—a life. The city’s attack on its Black residents was impossible to ignore if you were Black—an endless list of charges.

To Ashtin –Chicago, My Safe Haven by by yoo chang

Alas, 1789 still lives in the heart of Gotham city.

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 23

The thing is, Marwan, another Uber driver, told me he never knew why Batman couldn’t understand his parents walked past the homeless and the poverty in order to go to the opera. They walked straight past those they could have helped and had an obligation to help—knowing what we know about capitalism—and instead of helping, their wealth ended up getting them murdered.

In another reality, maybe Bruce Wayne’s parents felt compassion and grief over the plight of the city’s poor and dropped their pearl necklace mysteriously into the pocket of some homeless person’s cup. Maybe that person who was homeless would be overjoyed because it meant they could afford a present for someone special’s birthday. And they noticed that the couple who dropped the necklace was being attacked and through some miraculous instinct saved them—as it is the historical instinct of poor people to lay down their lives for the wealthy.

The English language, to a non-native speaker, is an Emily Dickinson’s dash—a suggestive thread that weaves and crafts. Its essence is wrung, like ceaseless rosemary, to intoxicate you; slowly & subtly, the anaconda twists around the meat of its meaning. It is a strange, humorous, oblique business—to speak English. Corean is more direct—immediately it can create intimacy and the understanding that we—those who can speak and those who can understand Corean—are compatriots, why not blissfully, just by virtue of understanding each other in this language. But no matter how well I speak English, there are those who will never recognize me as a full compatriot. That is an undeniable difference.

The thing is—as the woman and I were talking, cracking jokes, waiting for the #49 and #X49, there was a difference in which bus we were waiting for and this difference was telling for I wasn’t traveling as far South with her and that meant something—socioeconomically in Chicago—that I realized and she did too. She smiles sweetly at me, “well, later.” “later,” I said. My safe haven would look like me not feeling the weight of that discomfort—knowing she is going places where the legacy of segregation is more prevalent and impossible to ignore. My yellow face was already a suggestion to her that I had structural advantages as opposed to being Black in America. Even my bus is different.Isit me or is it the city? Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a pre-Gotham city. Before things got so violent. I read about it happening in New York City, where a man—Black—held another man—Asian—whilst another two took turns to punch him at Fulton Street Station in Manhattan. The victim was accused of molesting a girl he claims he didn’t touch. People tried to call the cops to alert them about the public beating taking place but police officers didn’t arrive for about 20 minutes after the first call1. They also said no complaints of sexual assault had been Ifiled.imagine instances of such bullying rising, especially between communities of color, and I mourn for the victims. My safe haven would look like a city where such beatings were unimaginable because why would a person have so much hatred and hurt in their hearts that they would want to publicly humiliate another person in the name of vigilante justice (the Asian man was a “pervert”)—especially if they were of a certainThatrace.is white supremacy’s invisible hand sowing division and their hero?

Batman he comes without bats but like a bat he comes I imagine an alternate reality where Batman comes but instead of with the vengeance of the violent judicial system, he comes as the warm and paternal male role model these men most likely never had, who would teach them how to deal with emotions like anger which they righteously had but in more productive ways than the perverse enjoyment found in publicly humiliating another person that a bully receives. That could be a safe haven.

And Batman still has the entitlement of a white man that would have him put on a super high-tech, expensive bat suit instead of seeing the necessity of giving up his wealth, and pressuring other wealth holders like him, to reduce crime in Gotham city.

LIT

What then? Bruce Wayne’s parents would live and Batman’s story would still be a foolish, angsty tragedy ripe with comedic intrigue— that in the historical comedy of being born with the privileges of white manhood, billionaire or not, their demise is inevitable. We must guarantee it—us, the tired, huddled masses, the wretched refuse, the tempest tossed to sea yearning to breathe free—send these, she said, of liberty, my safe haven, this city—our Chicago—a lamp beside the golden door.

So why the farce? That is the allure of Batman—the self-delusions of Elon Musk. That Batman still represents the story of a hero and is not read with the comedy of Hamlet whose madness is the source of the play’s tragedy is an essence of how seriously white Americans take themselves and their attempts to “help.” Every donation from a millionaire or a billionaire is nothing more than evidence that despite their wealth and alleged self-awareness, they are still not willing to go all the way with the thought experiment that their wealth is the root cause of a city’s crime. How much could they really care about mental health if they do not care to use their influence to ensure that the city’s homeless have rights to shelter?

Pilsen Fest 2022 18th St. & Blue Island Ave. Saturday, September 17–Sunday, September 18. Free. facebook.com/pilsenfest Pilsen Fest celebrates the pool of Latino/a/x artistic talent in their Pilsen neighborhood and the city. Musicians, chefs, mixologists, poets, muralists, painters, writers, documentarians, and photographers all come together to celebrate local creativity and culture. This year in partnership with Casa Humilde Cervecería. Festival art by Gabriel Villa. (Jackie Serrato)

24 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022

As part of Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, Tommy Talks, a Chicago nonprofit dedicated to “normalizing and improving mental health through creative arts, education, and peer support” will be hosting a pop-up event that will feature “Community mental health resources, break out rooms for private discussions, activity rooms promoting positive coping skills, multiple panel discussions/speakers, yoga/meditation, job development, self improvement workshops” and more. Those interested should register on the website though admission is free. (Adam Przybyl) Slow & Low: Chicago Lowrider Festival Navy Pier, 600 E. Grand Ave. Saturday, October 15, 10am–8pm. Price of entry TBD. chicagolowriderfestival.com

Debut of Chicago Performs Museum of Contemporary Art, 220 E. Chicago Ave. Thursday, September 15–Friday, September 16, 2pm–8:30pm. $20 for one day, $30 for two days. org/chicago-performs-2022visit.mcachicago.

After a four-year hiatus, the Lowrider Festival is back and taking over Navy Pier. The festival last took place in 2018 and the pandemic put a hold on organizing efforts for a few years. The event is sure to have hundreds of customized cars, motorcycles, and bicycles, as well as music, food, art, and entertainment. Going on more than a decade now, the festival celebrates the ingenuity and creativity of Mexican-Americans and highlights the importance of lowriders in culture, history, and even politics. As the festival's website notes, “during the Chicano Movement in the 1970s, lowriders took on a more formalized political function. Car clubs, which were forming, began offering community services, like fundraising for the United Farm Workers labor union and hosting health initiatives.” Those who want to display their vehicles at the festival can sign up to be exhibitors for a small price through the website, and vendors can apply for booth space too. Festival organizers are working on determining an appropriate admission fee at this time. (Adam Przybyl) Museum Discounts for Link and WIC Card Holders Free. museums4all.org Through Museums for All, a national program, people receiving food assistance can gain free or reduced admission to a list of museums in Chicago and throughout the country simply by presenting their SNAP EBT or WIC card. Admission ranges from free to $3.00 per family, depending on the museum. Some participating local museums are the Adler Planetarium, the Art Institute, the Field Museum, the Botanic Garden, Shedd Aquarium, the DuSable Museum, and the Museum of Science and Industry. (Jackie Serrato) Wooded Island Bird Walk Wooded Island, Stony Island Ave and 59th St. Saturday, September 3, 8am. Free. Weekly, every Saturday, year round, weather permitting. The Walks are free and open to one and all. Newcomers are warmly welcomed. Please wear masks if you have not been fully vaccinated and respect everyone’s physical distance. Bring binoculars, field guides, and dress for the weather. The walks cover a distance of two miles, walking through Wooded Island and Bobolink Meadow. In the winter the group also drives to the Outer Harbor near La Rabida Hospital to check the lakefront and the harbor for wintering ducks. Meet on the west side of the Columbia Basin (north lagoon) at 8am. Park on Stony Island, near 59th street, walk east across the parkland area, then cross Cornell Drive to reach the spot. Next dates are July 16 and 23. (Kate Gallagher) Chess Records Tours Chess Records, 2120 S. Michigan Ave. $20 donation. info@bluesheaven.com Willie Dixon’s Blues Heaven, the foundation that owns the building formerly known as Chess Records, is resuming tours of the place that saw some of the most legendary Black artists in the '50s and '60s: Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry, and Etta James, among them. The second floor is dedicated to Dixon, and the recording studio displays period artifacts. Tours are Thursday through Saturday afternoons. (312) 808-1286 (Jackie Serrato)

ARTS

In The Land: Englewood Open Mic Imagination House, 6407 S. Honore St. Friday, August 26, 6pm–9pm. Free. bit. ly/3wpnuF0 As part of an open mic series that aims to be “a safe space for fun and artistic expression,” come if you have something to say or just want to listen and get inspired. This night's featured artist will be Stock Marley and the event will be hosted by JazStarrand Thoughtpoet. The Abundant Chi Collective, a mutual aid group, will be accepting donations at the event for their work. (Adam Przybyl)

HECHO EN: Arts & Craft Fair 18th Street, between Paulina & Ashland Ave. Saturday, August 27–Sunday, August 28, 10am–6pm. Free entry. bit.ly/3Aadq3C “Hecho En” Arts & Craft Fair is an annual event supporting both the BIPOC Artist Vendor community and the Pilsen Arts & Community House organization. This Art Fair is focused on the Artists, Artisans and Makers of our diverse communities from all over. Makers will be lined on 18th Street, between Ashland and Paulina Avenues exhibiting many styles, cultures, and colorful unique artwork and original designed products. This arts and craft fair honors the dedication of our creative community and the public who appreciates and supports the Maker’s movement. The fair will run 10am-6pm on August 27-28. (Isabel Nieves) African Festival of the Arts Washington Park, 5100 S. Cottage Grove Ave. Friday, September 2–Monday, September 5, 1pm–10pm. $15 online, $20 at gate. Seniors $10, Children $5. bit. ly/3wlJsbK Washington Park hosts the annual African Festival of the Arts, featuring vibrant drumming, museum quality and collectible artifacts, colorful and rich handwoven fabric and textile, family friendly activities, music, and food. The festival will run 1-10pm on Friday and 10am-10pm Saturday through Monday. (Isabel Nieves) Cooler By the Lake: South Shore Arts Party South Shore Cultural Center, 7059 S. Shore Dr. Sunday, September 11, 11am–7pm. Free. bit.ly/arts-party This September, come celebrate Chicago’s South Side. Chicago Humanities Festival is partnering with South Shore Works to host a day-long Arts Party at the South Shore Cultural Center: Pop in and out of mural painting, collaborative art installations, tours of South Shore, poetry readings, house music on the lawn, and more. Plus, join in on the big-name events CHF is known for: a chat with award-winning food blogger Michael Twitty on Black and Jewish cuisine, a podcast taping of the popular Some of My Best Friends Are… on what it means to be a Chicagoan, and live musical performances from the legendary Great Black Music Ensemble and Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. (Isabel Nieves)

BULLETIN You Are Not Alone: Suicide Prevention Awareness Pop-Up St. Francis de Sales High School, 10155 S. Ewing Ave. Thursday, September 29, 5pm–9pm. Free. bit.ly/3pFK4Fs

A new annual festival of live arts will showcase work by local artists, focusing on artists of color and LGBTQ+ artists. This year’s live performances feature Derek McPhatter, Erin Kilmurray, and Bimbola Akinbola. Each artist will share a new work including pieces developed through the MCA. Curated by Dr. Tara Aisha Willis, a Hyde Park native. On Friday night, join for a celebration and party to cap the series. (Jackie Serrato)

Q&A with Oil SebastianPainterSilverio

BY REEMA SALEH Sebastian Silverio’s art explores the reality of living in a neighborhood experiencing chronic violence and disinvestment. His work draws on his experiences as the child of undocumented immigrants—exploring how gentrification, immigration enforcement, and environmental injustice impact his community. Silverio uses his perspective to draw attention to these issues and call for change.Inspired by neo-expressionism

The artist, born and raised in Little Village, documents the beauty of the neighborhood, the immigrant journey, and the social and political issues affecting his community.

PHOTO BY EMILY SOTO

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 25

ARTS

The first couple pages of my sketchbook are just words and sentences that I’ll write, and I use that to try to capture what themes I want to capture in pieces before

South Side Weekly spoke with Silverio about his art practice, art as activism, and how Little Village inspires his work. This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity. How do you describe yourself as an artist? I grew up on the Southwest side of Chicago in Little Village. My main focus is using oil painting to capture childhood and life and what growing up was like in a neighborhood like Little Village—how all that ties together and creates a tiny section in Chicago that is one of a kind. When did you first become an artist? When did you know you wanted to start creating things? It’s something I’ve always done, but as far as the art that I do now, I want to say that started maybe when I was nineteen years old, fresh out of high school, and realizing that I want to keep making art but making art that really means something and has something more to offer. I’m curious to know how Little Village inspires your work. A lot of your pieces focus on environmental injustice or immigration and how these issues impact your community. What was your thinking behind some of the pieces? I’m a child of undocumented immigrants. I can remember being a kid and my parents fearing deportation. That’s something that’s always followed me through childhood. I went to elementary school at Saucedo, which is right on 24th and California. That area is where I basically did everything my entire childhood. My mom primarily worked from home, so we spent a lot of time together. At that time, my mom didn’t drive, so we walked everywhere, and the simple act of walking throughout your neighborhood every single day as a child—there are images that you see all the time. So the Arch in Little Village on 26th Street—something I saw every single day—that really iconic and beautiful image is a big part of me. All the little stores and every detail there in Little Village is something that, even though I don’t live there now, it’s still something I want to keep representing in my work. We see a lot of Chicago representation as a whole, as a city in its entirety, but there are so many little subsections, and I want that to come out as well.There’s a lot of beauty in Little Village and my home. When that beauty gets threatened and the people in those communities get threatened, that’s something that hits even closer to home and hurts even more. Because these are people I grew up with and places I saw every single day growing up, it’s something that makes me want to fight back in whatever way I can. Why is it important to represent your neighborhood through art? What is the relationship between art and activism for you? Art and activism—they’ve always been so closely tied. I personally want to represent my home in the best way I can, especially when there are a lot of people that get taken advantage of there. Local government and local aldermen don’t do what they should be doing to protect the interests of the people. A lot of the time, they’re so disconnected from what the community actually is. I want the truth to be told and the actual views of people without any conflicts of interest. I feel my duty as an artist is to try to encapsulate that as well as I could. What’s your favorite piece that you’ve gotten the chance to work on? I really enjoyed the “HellNoHilco” piece I did. I wanted the community to see this and be able to tell our story in the best way I could. Because while it did get media coverage, what happened—the Hilco demolition that created the big dust cloud in the Little Village neighborhood—didn’t seem to be as important as it should have been, especially during that time when we were still very much under strict COVID lockdown guidelines. Another piece I really enjoyed was one I did fairly recently—I actually took inspiration from José Olivarez’s poem, “My Parents Fold Like Luggage”—and in that piece, I explored my parents’ immigration journey, but also that and its relationship with spirituality and the different perspectives of what it means to immigrate to the US and have it not all be like the grass is always greener on the other side. I tried to capture their journey and the hardships that came with it. Can you walk me through your process of working on these paintings?

26 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY ¬ AUGUST 25, 2022 ARTS and abstract portraiture, he uses art to tell meaningful stories about survival and resistance in his community. By representing his own stories and those of his community, he hopes to create art that people can see themselves in. Not only does his work ask us to look at the realities of these situations, but it asks us to work together to come up with solutions and empower one another.

even coming up with any images. From there, I will do small sketches of the overall composition. When I actually get in front of a canvas is when I start to embrace the spontaneous ideas that come in that moment. It’s almost like a dance—dancing with your canvas and letting it speak to you. As you’re working on it, the painting almost takes a life of its own. What do you want to evoke through telling stories about your family or community? I know these personal stories are also stories that so many other people, like me, have gone through. I want others to see themselves in these artworks as well. It’s not about me, but it’s about community. More than anything, I want people to look at artwork and see themselves in it and feel like they’re also part of it. Can I ask what you’re most proud of with your work? What do you hope people take away from it when they’ve seen one of your paintings? I want people to see beauty, in spite of sometimes heavy subject matter. Because once they see beauty, it feels easy to digest, but not in a sugarcoating way. If people see this and get comfortable with a subject, maybe something else can happen. Maybe some people can take action. I want people’s takeaway from my work to be to genuinely enjoy interacting with art and enjoying seeing that painting, seeing themselves in it, and having a relationship with art that sometimes people are scared to have. What would you tell someone that was getting into visual art for the first time? My first thing of advice will be: look at as much art as you can. Go to museums, go to galleries, and even follow a bunch of artists on Instagram. Consume as you can, because looking at all that is going to make you so much better. It’s going to creatively fuel you. Immersing yourself in creative environments is what really makes art perfect. What comes next for you as an artist? Where do you hope to be?

"MY PARENTS FOLD LIKE LUGGAGE" - SEBASTIAN SILVERIO

“It’s not about me, but it’s about community. More than anything, I want people to look at artwork and see themselves in it and feel like they’re also part of it.”

¬

– Sebastian Silverio

Reema Saleh is a journalist and graduate student at the University of Chicago studying public policy. She last reviewed José Olivarez’s debut poetry collection Citizen Illegal

My biggest goal is to be able to quit my day job and be an artist full-time. But also my goal is to get my artwork out there—have people see it, have people criticize it, get a bigger development platform, and have my name a little more known in the city. I have so much love for a lot of artists already that are established in Chicago, and I would love to be part of that community.

AUGUST 25, 2022 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 27 "HELLNOHILCO"ARTS-SEBASTIAN SILVERIO