Tag: Chicago

Art Walk in Pilsen Neighborhood

by Maggie Rife Ponce

A few weeks ago my aunt Susie called me to arrange a bi-monthly meetup. Usually we surf over to yelp or metromix and search for a tasty ethnic b.y.o.b like Chilam Balam (one of my favs. Isn’t it fun to say?) or Opart Thai House on Western (closest I’ve found to the real thing). The Pilsen Art walk happened to fall during this particular week so we decided to head south to check out the local art scene and enjoy the local Mexican fare at DeCOLORES galeria y sabores.

My friend Serina joined us for the evening. Around six we she and I headed toward Susie’s direction, stopping for a quick minute to snap a photograph of the bike below. We each admitted to checking out the beaut on earlier walks past. I’m a sucker for the retro style and color! I can’t wait to get my own!

After a short pit stop at Susie’s beautiful Ukranian Village apartment to meet Paris, her new darling kitten, we hopped in her Volkswagen GTI (my grandpa introduced her to the German company with her first starter car, the beetle) and drove south on Halsted.

Our first stop was an interactive exhibit where visitors were encouraged to try out the “art.” These guys produced enough energy from peddling to power the lights attached to their helmets and illuminate the room. They were pretty stoked, if you can’t tell 🙂

View from Brian Mancl’s gallery. This was my favorite collection of work. His photographs were simple, abstract, and beautifully executed.

Another view from one of the galleries. It’s a very traditional city scene to me. This could be nearly any city in the World.

On the walk back North to Decolores, Susie said there was something she had to show Serina and me. Each corner she’d have us wait for a minute while she jogged halfway down the block to see if it held the secret treasure. This alley is not what she wanted us to see, but I thought I’d take a picture of it any way. On the third or fourth block Susie found it–a flourishing communal garden, kept by the local artist surrounding the plot. At this point, it was too dark for a photo that would do it justice, but I’ll certainly be back soon and take one then.

Chicago Fog

by Maggie Rife Ponce

Explore where you live.

Black And White Chicago Photo

A man steps out of sunlight,
sunlight that streams like grace,

still gaping at blue sky
staked across the emptiness of space,

into a history where shadows
assume a human face.

A man slips into silence
that began as a cry,

still trailing music
although reduced to the sigh

of an accordion
as it folds into its case.

-By Stuart Dybek

The marriage of Jamie + Phil

by Maggie Rife Ponce

I’m blown away when I pause and consider the privilege I’m given each wedding I document. I fell in love with photojournalism while flipping through pages of National Geographic. Amongst articles featuring Inuits in Canada, or barracudas in the deep blue, famous photographers like Steve McCurry and Joel Satore presented pieces from across the World documenting special rights ceremonies. No matter what you call them, how they’re officiated, or what hemisphere they’re held, marriages are universal ceremonies between two people–a pinnacle point in their lifelong story, which I’m grateful to witness and document.

Phil and Jamie were quiet when I first met them. They were reserved, composed, and polite. During their wedding they were moving.

Emotion filled the air; tissues touched corner’s of eyes and sniffles were muffled behind cupped hands. From the people in the back row to the photographer crouching in the corner (me), I wager not a single person was left unmoved.

Thanks to Steve Koo for bringing me along as a second, and to Jame and Phil.What a beautiful ceremony. Did I mention we had a blast at the reception?

Before the birds flew south.

by Maggie Rife Ponce

It was the last weekend to get away before the weather turned. Scott and I drove down to the beach in New Buffalo, Michigan. We planned to catch one more sunset without the inevitable weather paned window we’d be watching through during winter. We were away from the city and the ceaseless white noise. I relished the silence of the surrounding nature–the smells and the light, unhindered by tall buildings.

The relaxing therapy of this place is magic, unfortunately, it hadn’t completely taken effect for me yet. I was still distracted. Instead of walking shoes, I grabbed my boats–mind you, not hiking boots. I’m talking black, leather, boots more appropriate for a Saturday night. It was too late to turn back though. Undeterred, I took to the sandy beach. My heels carved deep gouges in the shifting surface, but we pressed on. We reached the break wall, climbing up the rocky surface, carefully choosing each step. The fishermen watched me out of the corner of their eyes, certainly sizing me up, taking in my ridiculous footwear. “Watch yourself, you’ll wind up with a twisted ankle with those on.” I smiled, nodded, and continued on. Finally to the cusps of the breaker, I gave in, stripping down to my socks to summit the watch tour.

A small feat, but worth discarded boots. The last few boats of the season made their way back to shore while we took in the unbroken line of trees along the lake. I love cities, but I find such release in the open expanse of nature. It was a beautiful fall day, thinking about it makes me pine for spring.