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I’m a big fan of Chicago, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that I’ve only been an admirer from afar until recently: My first trip to the Windy City was a few months ago, when I traveled to speak at MCA Chicago with Guggenheim Fellow Lotus L. Kang about her artwork Molt, installed in the atrium. That also happened to be the same day Ghislaine Leung’s exhibition “Holdings” opened at the Renaissance Society.
Artist Kevin Beasley and Renaissance Society Executive Director and Chief Curator Myriam Ben Salah at the Renaissance Society RenBenGala 2024. Photo by Lola Kramer.
Walking through the University of Chicago’s campus in January, in -6°F windchill and up those wide stairs, I had the impression that the Ren, as locals call it, was better than I imagined, primarily because it was immediately unglamorous. For the spectacular legacy it’s carved over the last century (109 years!), it felt exceptionally humble. Entering Leung’s exhibition, it struck me that this bizarre A-framed room, which almost felt like it could have been a cafeteria, was where Bauhaus painter László Moholy-Nagy exhibited on the eve of WWII in 1939 and where Mies van der Rohe presented projects like the German Pavilion in 1947. This was the room where some of my favorite artists, like Joan Snyder, R.H. Quaytman, Kara Walker, Kerry James Marshall, and Mike Kelley, each had their first solo shows in Chicago. The celebrated Swiss duo Peter Fischli and David Weiss premiered the illustrious Der Lauf der Dinge (The Way Things Go) here in 1987, and Isa Genzken had never exhibited in the United States until her show at the Ren. (I’ll spare you a list of my favorite publications released by the institution, but I was excited to discover an out-of-print exhibition catalogue for Louise Bourgeois’s solo exhibition Femme Maison (1981). You get the point. Despite never having visited physically, the institution has lived near-mythologically in my mind.
Crowd inside the Former Church of the Epiphany, Chicago. Photo by Lola Kramer.
“Do you recognize anyone?” asked publicist Gia Kuan. Graceful women in silk-feathered gowns and handsome men flowed through the entrance of Chicago’s Former Church of the Epiphany, the same venue that once held the memorial service for Black Panther Party leader Fred Hampton, who was brutally gunned down by law enforcement during a raid of his apartment in 1969 at the age of 21. The large, vaulted interior, framed by heavy round arches and stained glass windows, was under red light, creating a moody glow that made the evening feel as if it were from a bygone era. Kevin Beasley, the New York-based artist tapped to host the evening’s RenBenGala, told me that he had planned an evening of soul, jazz, and gospel, inspired in part, by the Harlem Cultural Festival (1967-69), also known as “Black Woodstock” and the subject of Questlove’s 2021 documentary Summer of Soul. “It was this liberating moment for people to gather and listen to music,” Beasley told me. “Even the color palettes were all there.”
Artist Candida Alvarez with American civil engineer and businesswoman Cheryl McKissack, and entrepreneur Eric McKissack. Photo by Lola Kramer.
Laura Font and Penelope Steiner attend the Renaissance Society RenBenGala 2024. Photo by Lola Kramer.
It was only 15 minutes into the evening, and the room was packed. Glasses were clinking and dresses were swishing. I noticed an elegant woman with a blonde bob wearing a white ankle-length skirt and white top fluffed with fur up to the neck and down to the wrists who looked like a chic abominable snowman or a Capote “swan.” Mostly, the room was filled with people I didn’t recognize, which was refreshing because we all go to the same functions in New York.
Dia Art Foundation curator Jordan Carter and artist Michelle Grabner. Photo by Lola Kramer
American photographers Paul Mpagi Sepuya and Dawoud Bey. Photo by Lola Kramer
Because this year’s gala coincided with Expo Chicago, the first fair since the Frieze acquisition, many flew in from New York. My eyes traversed the length of the room, and I spotted DIA Art Foundation curator Jordan Carter, who debuted a presentation of the recently acquired Untitled (Loverboy), 1989, the sheer ethereal light-blue curtains by Félix González-Torres in Beacon a week prior. Carter was chatting with a beaming Kevin Beasley, dressed in a silk purple jacket with red lapels over an orange silk-printed shirt and a black bowtie. (Beasley has been busy planning his upcoming participation in Nicolas Bourriad’s Gwangju Biennale.)
Right: Director of the Art Institute of Chicago, James Rondeau with Renaissance Society Executive Director and Chief Curator Myriam Ben Salah & Chicago patron Neil Ross. Photo by Lola Kramer.
Before I had a chance to take my coat off, Nate Freeman, culture correspondent at Vanity Fair and creator of Artnet’s Wet Paint column, walked in through the doors. He was set to do a talk with Chance the Rapper at the fair the next day. Nate told me about the museums he had visited earlier in the day, noting that “[Nicole] Eisenman’s show was fantastic.” Ann Goldstein, the deputy director, chair, and curator of Modern and contemporary art at the Art Institute of Chicago, and her husband, artist Christopher Williams, two Chicago legends I don’t know personally but whom I deeply respect (and occasionally see at the Odeon), made their way past us. Among many of Goldstein’s accomplishments, like directing the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, and the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam, she’s also a leading scholar of my mentor, artist Lawrence Weiner. (Lawrence’s first solo in Chicago was at the Ren in 1978.) I was reminded of seeing one of my favorite photographs by Williams, Kodak Three Point Reflection Guide (2005), in Lawrence and Alice Weiner’s entryway. It always appeared slightly askew, never level, even after tapping it back into place on my way out the door. But somehow, it worked like that, as if it were hanging inside a captain’s cabin at sea.
An angelic member of the Uniting Voices Chicago choir. Photo by Lola Kramer.
A choral voice broke the warm chatter of greetings. Voices of other choir singers scattered throughout the room joined in as they walked up towards the stage, signaling the transition to dinner. I caught the glistening eyes of the radiant Renaissance Society director and chief curator Myriam Ben Salah, wearing a black Simone Rocha dress with crimson bows tying off her long dark hair, and mouthed a hello and a “thank you for having me” across the table.
I was seated next to the Renaissance Society’s curator, Karsten Lund, whom I had met in January at the opening of Leung’s show. It’s an exhibition of seemingly minimal interventions with profound conceptual implications, featuring gestures like a school photo of the artist floating in the reverse of its original cardboard frame, and the looping lilt of Audrey Hepburn’s voice in “My Fair Lady.” (Hepburn’s voice echoed throughout the nearly empty gallery save for the physical results of her “scores.” “All I want is a room somewhere / Far away from the cold night air / With one enormous chair / Oh, wouldn’t it be loverly?”) It reminded me that you don’t need much to fill a room—a sentiment many seem to have forgotten, a symptom of systems of value and labor that leap first to what is most profitable rather than worthwhile. (The Renaissance Society is probably one of the few spaces in North America where experimental solo exhibitions and generous artist commissions still happen despite market pressures.)
Artists Jordan Strafer and Isabelle Frances McGuire with Renaissance Society Executive Director and Chief Curator Myriam Ben Salah. Photo by Lola Kramer.
Over a series of courses masterfully designed by the local cult favorite Lula Café, I spoke with artist Jordan Strafer about her forthcoming exhibition, “Decadence.” Curated by Ben Salah, the show, opening at the Renaissance Society on May 4th, will premiere the second chapter of a larger film project shot in Los Angeles. The costumes were made in collaboration with Angelina Vitto, a costume designer from the television show Euphoria.
Nearby, the glammed-out Gucci team had filled a long table. Seated at the end of ours was German-born, Chicago-based artist Julia Phillips, in good spirits following her first Whitney Biennial, seated near Beasley and Megan Steinman, director of Denniston Hill artist residency in the Catskills. Stephanie Cristello, the former artistic director of Expo Chicago and current curator at the local Driehaus Museum, sat across from me wearing a striking red lipstick. “It’s Fenty, Universal Red,” she said. “It doesn’t come off.” (It didn’t.) Danielle A. Jackson, curator at New York’s Artist Space and curator of the 59th Carnegie International, a gracious Chicagoan in her own right, also joined us. Wearing a black Commes des Garçons dress with a silver buckle on the shoulder and hair pulled back, she told me about her memorable experience working with Pope.L, who presented his first solo exhibition in Chicago, “Forlesen,” at the Renaissance Society in 2013 while teaching at the University of Chicago.
Renaissance Society board chair Nancy Lerner Frej. Photo by Lola Kramer.
Remarks began with board member Nancy Lerner Frej posing the question, “How can we be better, as opposed to being bigger?” In 2021, she told us, the Renaissance Society “courageously withdrew from the gala-as-auction format” to adopt a new model where a nominated artist drops the attendees into their vision and practice. Previous years using this formula brought in artist Piero Golia (2022) and dancer-choreographer Adam Linder (2023). That evening, the institution hoped to fundraise by engaging guests with a more genuine production, encouraging donations through QR codes at each table. (The gala exceeded goals, pulling in an impressive $400,000.)
I asked Lund about the institution’s work with Beasley, and he told me that the artist was first included in a group exhibition called “Between the Ticks of the Watch,” in 2016, and that they had recently released an ambitious multi-media publication called A View of a Landscape. Edited by Lund and former Ren director Solveig Øvstebø, the publication includes texts by Fred Moten and Mark Godfrey and an accompanying LP with musical contributions by Eli Keszler, Kelsey Lu, and L’Rain, among others. (L’Rain, a band helmed by Brooklyn-based musician and Performance Space New York artistic director Taja Cheek, was flown in to perform later in the evening as part of Beasley’s tribute to Pope.L.)
Josephine Lee of the Uniting Voices Chicago Choir. Photo by Lola Kramer.
As the wine was being poured, over a dozen choir singers from the musical organization Uniting Voices Chicago (previously the Children’s Chorus of the First Unitarian Church of Chicago) took to the stage, their elegiac voices ringing throughout the space. Other vocalists scattered throughout the venue around the tables began joining in—a creative touch Beasley says was inspired by a performance by French choreographer Jérôme Bel that he had participated in. The acoustics were divine and moving. I’m sure many reached for their wallets then. I attempted a quick photo overhead and had the flash go off. “You’re that person,” joked Lund. (Sorry!)
Chicago patrons Tom Dunton and 2024 Renaissance Society RenBen Honoree, Gael Neeson. Photo by Lola Kramer.
Following the performance, Suzanne Gez, the previous director of the Renaissance Society for over 40 years, took to the podium to introduce the evening’s honoree, Gael Neeson, a beloved member of the community, praised for generous donations from her collection to MCA Chicago and the Art Institute of Chicago, among others. “The Ren is near and dear to my heart,” began Neeson. She described discovering, years ago, that the Ren had shown Mondrian while he was still living, adding that he was one of the early acquisitions by her and her late husband Stefan Edlis.
When Ben Salah took to the podium, dinner conversations quickly subsided: “Gael, you are the grande dame of contemporary art in Chicago and beyond,” Salah said, transitioning into her speech. “We are proud to allow artists to experiment and make a mess. We are proud to offer them resources, support, and companionship to do so. Sometimes we know where we’re going, and sometimes we really don’t. But every single time, we are humbled by what they give us in return. ” She followed with a poignant quote from writer Margo Jefferson:
“We don’t need art because it is ‘necessary’ or because there is an inherent positive impact that art offers by default. We need art because ‘history cannot exist without the discipline of imagination.’ We need art to create meaning, where there seems to be none left.”
Thanking the entire staff and the event team, she added, “Happy birthday, Karsten,” to a crowd that lit up, suddenly feeling like one big family. Lund, incredibly modest, leaned towards me and blushed, “I’ve never had so many people clapping for me.”
L’Rain & Kevin Beasley performing. Photo by Lola Kramer.
The spirited energy that L’Rain’s musical performance ushered in next was contagious and made the following tribute to Pope.L feel joyous and celebratory rather than sorrowful. “Taja was a fitting person to do this with,” Beasley told me, “because we understand each other’s approach and ethos. I have so much respect for her work on a curatorial level and as a performer, musician, and artist. She finds a balance between all of it.” (Among many of her projects, Cheek was a guest curator for the 2024 Whitney Biennial performance program alongside co-organizers Chrissie Iles and Meg Onli.) “Her work is challenging, and it has high stakes,” Beasley remarked. “She’s genre-bending and thinking about social issues through free-form jazz, experimental rock, and noise… There’s a soulful, radical Black music tradition that I think she’s expressing.”
As the festivities wound down, I found Nate Freeman outside and hopped in his car to join him at the Zebra Bar, a local piano lounge that happened to be a block from my hotel. When we arrived, artist Ohad Meromi and 56 Henry dealer Ellie Rines, wearing a flirty leopard print dress, were tucked into a booth. “Who is going to kick things off?” the pianist asked. The intrepid Mr. Freeman approached the pianist and requested Sinatra’s “Chicago.” Soon, the entire bar was singing along.
Nicole Eisenman, From Success to Obscurity (2004). Shelby Ragsdale, © MCA Chicago.
Nicole Eisenman, Breakup (2011). Shelby Ragsdale, © MCA Chicago.
The following day, I woke up to the news that O.J. Simpson had died at the age of 76. I remembered that Simpson took a flight to Chicago hours after his ex-wife and her friend were murdered. I suppose it’s time to rewatch the documentary. Lake Michigan was a block away, and I wanted to touch the water but turned around when it looked like I would have to walk a half mile next to a highway to access a tunnel. After checking out of the hotel, I joined Gia Kuan and her press team for lunch at Doma, a cafe that we all agreed felt eerily similar to Dime’s.
My flight was in the afternoon, but I planned to see as much as possible. I insisted they accompany me for a drive-by of Nicole Eisenman’s exhibition at MCA Chicago and texted curator Jack Schneider, who generously organized our tickets from the fair. I’m glad I saw the show, because I was reunited with some of my favorite paintings by Eisenman, like From Success To Obscurity (2004), Long Distance, and Breakup (2011)—too many to mention. (I remembered that I never picked up my Pandemic 2020 Solidarity poster “Never Forget Kissing in Bars” from Artists Space. I need that!)
“Arnold” coffee table book by Taschen, with Gia Kuan’s manicure.
Ohad Meromi, Expulsion (2018-2024) at the 56 Henry Expo Chicago Booth.
We drove past the Centennial Wheel to the fair, where I rolled my carry-on through what felt like two miles of a pretzel-scented mall toward the end of the pier, where the fair began. With little time before my flight, I swung by the Taschen booth to admire the absurd, steroidal Arnold Schwarzenegger coffee table book. The next stop was the 56 Henry booth to see Ohad Meromi’s impressive pair of massive, textural butterscotch-colored figurative sculptures composed of insulation foam. Rines had just left for the airport to catch the Sculpture Center Gala, which was happening later that night. And that was also my cue! Off to O’Hare.