Nighthawks

Before we left on the trip, Bonnie asked us to be sure and visit Marc Chagall's American Windows when we visited the Art Institute of Chicago. Chagall's windows, commissioned to celebrate the United States bicentennial, portray his sense of gratitude for the tolerance and liberty he found in America during World War II. It's a beautiful piece of blue stained glass, inlaid with greens and yellow, and would've been a great example of American identity portrayed in art...but it wasn't on display.

The recent remodel and new addition to the Art Institute has sent some of the more delicate pieces into storage until the dust has settled and it's safe to come out. The new Millennium Entrance is looking shiny, so hopefully it will be up soon for everyone to enjoy.

I've been to the Institute a few times in my life, and it's like coming home for me. The collection feels so familiar anymore, I can walk the halls and visit my favorite pieces just like I would old relatives. One such piece is Hopper's Nighthawks



To me...this may not be American culture portrayed, but it is definitely Chicago. Although Hopper swore up and down that he never meant for Nighthawks to have any kind of symbolism, he did admit that consciously or unconsciously, he was portraying the loneliness of the city. Three lone figures idling around coffee mugs and cigarettes, the city bustle slowing to heavy, tired sighs in the fluorescent lights of the diner, the short-order cook behind the counter working to scrape together the last few dollars of the night. It's quiet, it's still, and it's the exact opposite of what most people see in Chicago, or any city for that matter.

Chicago is constantly moving, constantly breathing with the push and pull of people scurrying about. You can feel it in the heat of the sidewalks and in the constant white noise of people and cars and food stands and music playing on every corner. It has a pulse to it, a vibe that is alive and beautiful. You really need to stand still at a bus stop and watch the city blur past to fully understand that in all of that movement it's easy to leave some things behind. Like connection.

My favorite part of Nighthawks is the man and woman sitting at the counter, their hands so close they are almost touching. I used to stare at those hands and wonder if they were at the diner together, if they were sharing a cigarette, if they were holding hands, or if their fingers reached for each other simply because they needed to feel someone's hand in theirs.

I love Chicago, don't get me wrong. My time in the city has almost always been amazing. But sometimes it feels like I'm completely alone, even in that sea of movement. It's not until the night come and the city quiets down and people tuck themselves into bed when you can really see the difference.

I thought about Nighthawks as a group of us walked along the deserted tracks of the Metra towards Big Mama. It was late and the city was finally coming to a rest. Even in the station, amongst all the concrete and stairs, it felt like there wasn't another human being around for miles. It wasn't until the noise fell away that we could really tell just how heavy silence can be.

I think Hopper understood that...the loneliness that covers you. Like a warm blanket. But I also think we've seen that kind of need for connection everywhere we've gone. So many people are connecting with our group as we travel on, even when their lives are busy enough. So often we'll approach strangers and ask them questions about their lives and their beliefs, and so often they are willing to sit down and explain their views. It makes me wonder if we're all kind of like the couple at the counter, almost touching hands. Maybe they're helping us out because we seem like nice people and they're curious about the trip. Or maybe they are just looking for the connection they've been missing, even in sea of faces. I know I am.