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Tag: Jaume Plensa

  • How the Donum Estate Cultivated a World-Class Sculpture Garden

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    At Donum Estate, art, wine, and land are conceived as a single living system shaped by stewardship, regeneration, and long-term vision. Photo Robert Berg | Courtesy Donum Estate

    As California’s viticulture has matured—understood not merely as agricultural production but as a cultural, scientific and ecological practice—a generation of wineries in Sonoma and Napa began to reimagine the estate itself as a space where wine, hospitality and contemporary art could coexist, grounded in terroir-driven storytelling and aesthetic ambition. The Donum Estate was among the first to pioneer this convergence in a deeply intentional way, forging a sensory connection between land, wine and art.

    The estate’s name—Donum, from the Latin for “gift”—reflects its ethos. Everything produced here is considered a gift of this extraordinarily fertile land that must be stewarded and protected. Its history traces back to Anne Moller-Racke, a German-born viticulturalist who came to California in 1981 and later led Buena Vista Winery, planting the estate’s original vines. When the family sold Buena Vista in 2001, they kept the Carneros vineyards and renamed the property the Donum Estate. In 2011, Danish entrepreneur Allan Warburg and his wife, Chinese-born art collector Mei Warburg, acquired the property and began transforming it into a site where contemporary sculpture and ecological stewardship would become inseparable from the wine experience.

    While the estate’s viticulture has since earned acclaim—producing single-vineyard Pinot Noir and Chardonnay on over 200 hectares of regenerative organic land—what sets Donum apart is its world-class, open-air collection of monumental art. With more than 60 sculptures sited across its hills, it is now one of the largest accessible museum-grade private collections of outdoor sculpture in the world. These works are not static decor, but active participants in a living ecosystem, drawing on the land’s energy and shaping the visitor’s relationship to scale, time and movement.

    That ethos of harmony extends beyond the vineyards. A regenerative organic-certified lavender field, olive grove, plum orchard and culinary garden compose a living laboratory of sensory and ecological exchange. Yet the art remains the emotional and spatial center of it all—quietly guiding the experience. What began as a vineyard has evolved into a rare cultural landscape, where sculpture and soil shape one another in real time. Donum is less a winery with art than an open-air museum embedded in the land, where every element—natural and made—serves the same purpose: to cultivate a deeper attunement to beauty.

    Doug Aitken’s Sonic Mountain (Sonoma) stands among eucalyptus trees, composed of suspended metal chimes arranged in a circular structure.Doug Aitken’s Sonic Mountain (Sonoma) stands among eucalyptus trees, composed of suspended metal chimes arranged in a circular structure.
    A polyurethane fountain by Lynda Benglis. Photo Robert Berg | Courtesy Donum Estate

    “It’s about the energy that emerges from the interplay between art and the land,” said Angelica de Vere Mabray, CEO of the Donum Estate, when Observer visited during FOG Design + Art. (Located just over an hour from San Francisco, the estate should be an essential stop for any art enthusiast visiting Fog City.) This year, for the first time, Donum officially partnered with the fair and SFAW, underscoring its commitment to supporting art and culture across the Bay Area.

    De Vere Mabray welcomed us to the art-filled Donum Home, the estate’s hospitality center, which was redesigned and renovated by award-winning Danish architect David Thulstrup. Its light-filled interiors blend Scandinavian sensibilities with Eastern harmony, all rooted in California’s materials and natural beauty.

    Greeting visitors at the entrance is a towering Yayoi Kusama Pumpkin. Inside, major works from the collection appear throughout the space: an expansive tapestry by El Anatsui flanks the wine display, while overhead, a floating “cloud ceiling” by Tomás Saraceno hovers beside Jeppe Hein’s colorfully playful balloons. A large canvas by Liu Xiaodong anchors a grouping of works by prominent Chinese artists from the post-Tiananmen generation, including Yue Minjun and Zhang Huan. In another room, a glass cylinder encases Ai Weiwei’s hand-painted Sunflower Seeds—originally created for his iconic Turbine Hall commission, in which he filled the space with more than 100 million individual porcelain seeds to draw attention to the artisanal labor behind mass production and the mythology of conformity in China.

    A stainless steel rock-like sculpture stands at the crest of a vineyard hill at Donum Estate, reflecting the surrounding vines and distant hills at sunset.A stainless steel rock-like sculpture stands at the crest of a vineyard hill at Donum Estate, reflecting the surrounding vines and distant hills at sunset.
    Zhang Wang’s Artificial Rock. Chip Allen 2016

    Beyond expansive glass doors, the estate’s lush greenery foregrounds California’s mountains and San Francisco Bay, in a landscape punctuated by monumental artworks. On the terrace, a pink-tinted polyurethane fountain by Lynda Benglis flows with shifting currents, its organic form constantly in motion. Farther down the path, a head by Jaume Plensa towers, while a more recent work by William Kentridge appears downhill in dialogue with Zhang Wang’s Artificial Rock No. 28.

    Dated 2001, Zhang’s sculpture was the first installed at the Donum Estate. The artist used stainless steel to create a handmade, three-dimensional rubbing of natural Jiashan stone, embodying a tension between organic formations and human-made imitations. “That connection is really intentional. The ideas of healthy soils, regenerative agriculture, responsible stewardship and farming are core to our belief system. They’re deeply integrated into how we think about the art, the wine and everything else at Donum. All of it reinforces that bond between the land and the experience,” emphasized de Vere Mabray.

    Allan and Mei Warburg now live full-time in Hong Kong, while maintaining homes in Beijing, Shanghai and San Francisco. Allan Warburg, born in Denmark, frequently traveled to Asia with his parents and studied Chinese in college before enrolling at Yunnan University. He began his career in the trading industry, ultimately settling in China, where he met Mei. The two shared a passion for both art and wine and began collecting early—particularly works by the emerging Chinese artists of the time. “When they purchased Donum, they brought that first work by Zhang Wang with them, without any concrete plan to build what would eventually become one of the world’s most significant contemporary sculpture collections,” de Vere Mabray said. “Everything else unfolded organically from there.”

    The estate was originally founded in 2001 as a winery, with no plans for hosting visitors. It wasn’t until nearly a decade later, as artworks began to arrive, that the property began evolving in a new direction. The Warburgs started collecting large-scale sculpture in 2015, and soon after, they began intentionally dedicating works to the estate, collecting not just for themselves but for the land and its future. Still, it was only in 2019, with the arrival of de Vere Mabray as CEO, that art became strategically embedded in Donum’s identity. “We start thinking much more intentionally about programming and how people experience Donum not just through wine, but through the intersection of art, land and place,” de Vere Mabray explained. “At that point, the collection comprised around 40 works; today it has grown significantly, and continues to shape how the estate is experienced.”

    Louise Bourgeois’s Crouching Spider stands inside a minimalist gallery space overlooking vineyards through large windows.Louise Bourgeois’s Crouching Spider stands inside a minimalist gallery space overlooking vineyards through large windows.
    Louise Bourgeois, Crouching Spider, 2003. Photo Robert Berg | Courtesy Donum Estate

    Today, it’s home to nearly 60 artworks, with new additions installed at an irregular pace, depending on the artists’ schedules and production timelines. Nearly half the pieces are site-specific commissions by artists who’ve spent time on the property, engaging with its environment and responding to the land. The curatorial direction is guided not by an external consultant or brand identity, but by the Warburgs’ taste, affections and personal relationships with the artists.

    Although they’ve kept a low profile and chosen not to brand the collection under their name, the Warburgs still make all key decisions. “In most cases, they’ve built real friendships with the artists, who are involved in choosing the precise location of each work,” de Vere Mabray said.

    She gestures to a sculpture by William Kentridge as a clear example. “He came to Donum a few years ago with his wife while he was at Berkeley for a symposium. He walked the property, spent time here and chose this specific location for the work,” de Vere Mabray recounted. “That’s generally how it happens. When they acquire something, there’s a real conversation with the artist about where it belongs and where the energy is right.”

    Before venturing deeper into the green hills of the estate, we stop at a pavilion dedicated to Louise Bourgeois’s iconic Crouching Spider. This particular work is one of the few the artist created using metal construction materials she gathered in New York before fusing and welding them by hand. Due to its sensitivity, the sculpture requires an indoor, climate-controlled environment for proper preservation. In the same room, her The Mirror presents a distorted reflective surface, seemingly devoured by the vital interplay of predator and prey, winner and victim—the very dynamics that shape every ecosystem.

    Mirrored vertical sculptures rise from tall grasses and wildflowers within Donum Estate’s vineyard landscape under an open sky.Mirrored vertical sculptures rise from tall grasses and wildflowers within Donum Estate’s vineyard landscape under an open sky.
    In the Sensory Garden, Yang Bao’s site-specific installation reimagines land damaged by disease as a living soundscape shaped by wind, humidity and movement. Photo Robert Berg | Courtesy Donum Estate

    Just outside, Mikado Tree by Pascale Marthine Tayou rises from the landscape. Another signature site on the property is the Vertical Panorama Pavilion, conceived by Olafur Eliasson’s studio in collaboration with architect Sebastian Behmann. An immersive architectural and emotional experience, the rainbow-hued structure functions as a multisensory instrument—inviting visitors to reconnect with nature and recalibrate to its rhythms. Its conical canopy acts as a kind of calendar, centered on a north-facing oculus and glazed with 832 laminated glass panels in varying hues. Each panel corresponds to data gathered at the estate by Eliasson’s design studio, representing annual averages of solar radiation, wind intensity, temperature and humidity.

    “His studio flew from Berlin to install it. A concrete pad was poured here; the work was fabricated and assembled in Berlin, then brought to Donum and reconstructed on site,” de Vere Mabray shared. “Olafur was standing right here with Sebastian Berman, and he pointed out that when you stand here, you’re shoulder-width apart, fully grounded—literally planted in the earth. You have a 360-degree view, and while you’re standing here, you can smell the soil, hear the grasses moving, and hear the birds. It’s deeply immersive and completely rooted in this place.”

    Doug Aitken’s Sonic Mountain (Sonoma) stands among eucalyptus trees, composed of suspended metal chimes arranged in a circular structure.Doug Aitken’s Sonic Mountain (Sonoma) stands among eucalyptus trees, composed of suspended metal chimes arranged in a circular structure.
    Doug Aitken’s Sonic Mountain (Sonoma) transforms the Carneros breeze into a resonant instrument. Photo Robert Berg | Courtesy Donum Estate

    Indeed, much of the art is organically and symbiotically rooted within the land. A particularly moving example is the estate’s Sensory Garden, which has been completely reimagined through Yang Bao’s immersive multisensory installation HYPERSPACE. Designed to blend seamlessly with the natural environment, the work responds to and converses with its surroundings: encircling a central pyramid, nine sculptural elements generate a spatial soundscape—a site-specific composition by Bao that shifts with wind, temperature and humidity.

    Donum grows three lavender varietals, and each summer, an entire hillside blooms into an ocean of purple. Originally, the estate’s lavender was planted on the very site where Bao’s installation now stands. But repeated failures led the Donum team to consult botanists who diagnosed Phytophthora—a soil-borne pathogen that attacks lavender roots coping with poor drainage. Instead of fighting the land, the team relocated the lavender to higher ground, where it now thrives. The cleared site became the foundation Bao—who is both a chemist and a composer—used to reimagine the terrain, helping it heal through art.

    There’s a spiritual dimension running through many of the artists’ installations at Donum, according to de Vere Mabray. One such work is Doug AItken’s Sonic Mountain (Sonoma), located in the Eucalyptus Grove. Measuring 45 feet in diameter and composed of 365 chimes—one for each day of the year—the sculpture is a living instrument activated by the Carneros breeze, one of Donum’s most persistent natural forces. While Aitken has engaged environmental themes in recent projects—most notably in his 2025 exhibition at Regen Projects—this installation marks a subtle and unexpected shift. Rather than addressing ecological urgency through overt imagery or a conceptual framework rooted in institutional critique, the artist operates here in a more spiritual register, privileging sensation and attunement.

    Anselm Kiefer’s weathered airplane sculpture rests on a gravel platform amid wildflowers and rolling hills at The Donum Estate.Anselm Kiefer’s weathered airplane sculpture rests on a gravel platform amid wildflowers and rolling hills at The Donum Estate.
    Anselm Kiefer, Mohn und Gedächtnis, 2017. Photo Robert Berg | Courtesy Donum Estate

    The land speaks to the art just as the art speaks to the land—there’s a clear dialogue between the two. “It’s incredibly powerful, De Vere Mabray said. “That’s really what we hope people take away: an understanding of that possible exchange of energy between art and landscape.” Seen in person, sculptures feel embedded in their environment, not simply installed on it. Rather than functioning as a curated series of standalone works, the collection operates as part of a larger, site-specific system in which form, material and placement respond directly to the terrain.

    This sense of integration runs throughout the estate. Sculptures are situated with intention—some echoing the contours of the land, others drawing attention to its shifts in light, texture or scale. The same attention applied to cultivating Pinot Noir and Chardonnay is visible in how artworks are commissioned and positioned. The result is not just aesthetic harmony, but a layered visitor experience that bridges visual art, agriculture and landscape. Here, art doesn’t compete with the landscape, and the landscape doesn’t merely serve as a backdrop. Each reinforces the other, creating a rhythm of encounter that feels designed to sharpen awareness—not just of the estate, but of the viewer’s own place within it.

    Bronze animal head sculptures encircle a circular lawn set within vineyards and olive trees at The Donum Estate.Bronze animal head sculptures encircle a circular lawn set within vineyards and olive trees at The Donum Estate.
    Ai Weiwei, Circle of Animals Zodiac Heads, 2011. Photo Bob Berg | Courtesy Donum Estate

    How the Donum Estate Cultivated a World-Class Sculpture Garden

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    Elisa Carollo

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  • 48 Hours of Art in Chicago: CXW, Museums and Monuments to Come

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    Anish Kapoor’s Cloud Gate, better known as the Bean. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    I was going to kick this off with a fun anecdote about my daughter walking into my office to ask whether I knew there was a guy trapped inside the Bean, followed by my inevitable dive into the Man in Bean movement (including Sarah Cascone’s wild dissection). Anish Kapoor’s Cloud Gate is the kind of artwork people love to hate while still lining up to slap their greasy palms on it to get the same warped selfie everyone takes. And while I usually enjoy a good dunk on that sort of thing, it feels a little tone-deaf given what’s happening in the Windy City right now—from ICE patrols to the arrival of National Guard troops.

    The idea that Trump could deploy those troops in Chicago—invoking the Insurrection Act in the process—feels dystopian and doesn’t track with my experience of the city at all. Does Chicago have crime? Yes, Chicago has crime. So does every city. More people, more problems. Is Chicago, as the president has claimed, the “world’s most dangerous city”? Please. Not even close. It’s just a city—and from everything I saw during a trip that took me from the Loop to Streeterville, from East Village to Washington Park and the Fulton Market District—it’s a pretty chill one. Sure, I only saw a sliver, but to echo the words of U.S. District Judge April Perry, I saw nothing resembling a “danger of rebellion.”

    What I do see while I’m here for Chicago Exhibition Weekend (CXW) is beautiful in the way most urban places are beautiful—full of hard edges paired with softness and united by the widely held conviction that art is the solution to a range of challenges. Chicago’s artists—and their champions, from patrons to gallerists to curators—are as open as they are unfiltered. When I ask Scott Speh, founder of Western Exhibitions, what makes the Chicago art scene different from, say, New York or L.A., he’s quick to tell me how much he hates that question, then launches into a perfectly clear-eyed answer: “I think everywhere, people want to put on good shows. It doesn’t matter what city they’re in, they want to put forward interesting artists.”

    Alexander Calder, Flying Dragon, 1975. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    That’s what he’s been doing for 21 years (“Chicago would be a far less interesting art city if Scott wasn’t doing what he was doing,” artist Stan Shellabarger told The Chicago Reader in 2024), and he’s in good company. Speh might resist boiling it all down, but if I had to try, I’d say Chicago’s is a scene grounded in and by the people who are in the thick of it. “In Chicago, there’s a really good ecosystem because it’s not too small and it’s not too big either,” Sibylle Friche, Document gallery partner, tells me. “You don’t get bored—there’s always enough going on.”

    Enough, and then some—as is the case with Chicago Exhibition Weekend, now in its third year. Around 50 galleries and creative spaces citywide mounted shows and everything from panel discussions and artist meet-and-greets to collector tours and an art-and-tennis mixer. The whole thing is the brainchild of Abby Pucker, Gertie founder and Pritzker family scion—yes, that Pritzker family. But despite her association with big bucks and big names (Illinois Governor JB Pritzker is a cousin), Pucker is—as I find out in conversation after conversation, including with the woman herself—simultaneously down-to-earth and committed to lifting others up.

    I’m here for CXW, of course, but also to figure out what makes Chicago’s art world tick. Pucker deserves serious credit for rallying next-gen patrons and collectors through Gertie’s EarlyWork program of curated cultural events. Still, she’s one voice in a glorious chorus of artists, curators and civic-minded supporters—all of whom, it seems, are ready to invite outsiders like me in.

    Day 0

    It’s just around lunchtime when I touch down at O’Hare, but I’m thrilled to find my room at Chicago Athletic Association already ready when I arrive after an uneventful ride on the Blue Line. I can see Cloud Gate from here, or at least glints of it between the leaves of Millennium Park’s many trees, which means I’m also near Jaume Plensa’s ever-smiling crowd-pleaser, Crown Fountain. It’s hours before I need to be anywhere, and my home base is just steps from the Art Institute of Chicago (the second-largest art museum in the United States, after New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art), which feels like the perfect way to start an unfamiliar city fling with art.

    The Stephen Alesch painting in my hotel room. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    In the elevator, someone cheerfully asks if I’m headed out to see the Bean. “Sure am,” I answer—and I guess I’m just that suggestible because suddenly I feel compelled to make that my first stop. Close up, it’s filthy, covered in smeary handprints and streaks, but from a distance, framed by the city skyline, it’s pure sculpture drama. I take selfies from afar but resist the urge to touch it since I left my sanitizer back in the room—rookie mistake.

    Marc Chagall’s America Windows at the Art Institute of Chicago. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    On a normal trip, I’d budget at least five hours for the Art Institute, but this isn’t a normal trip, so I decide to focus on the heavy hitters: Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks. Van Gogh’s The Bedroom. Seurat’s A Sunday on La Grande Jatte. Grant Wood’s American Gothic. My all-time favorite Cézanne, Basket of Apples. I’m waylaid early on by the Elizabeth Catlett show, “A Black Revolutionary Artist and All That It Implies,” a fantastic career survey on view through early next year and absolutely worth the flight alone. In Gallery 262, everyone is clustered around Nighthawks, which is probably among the least interesting paintings there—though it’s definitely bigger than you’d expect. Far more captivating are Peter Blume’s weirdly brilliant The Rock (commissioned for Fallingwater but rejected for being too big) and Kay Sage’s deliciously desolate In the Third Sleep. There’s even an early cubist-expressionist Pollock, which feels like spotting a celebrity before their glow-up.

    Kay Sage, In the Third Sleep, 1944. Oil on canvas. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    And so it goes. The Art Institute of Chicago is home to paintings we’ve all seen a hundred times on mugs, tote bags and in movies—you can absolutely have your Ferris Bueller moment in front of the Seurat—but it’s the lesser-known gems that really sparkle. There’s a stellar selection of Georgia O’Keeffe’s works (Ballet Skirt or Electric Light is a standout) and Alma ThomasStarry Night with the Astronauts. Other highlights: William Zorach’s Summer, Marsden Hartley’s Movement, Elizabeth Sparhawk-JonesShop Girls and Mary Cassatt’s The Child’s Bath.

    Elizabeth Catlett, Head of a Negro Woman, 1946. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    Time-bound as I am, I feel like I’m jogging through the galleries. (Fun fact: Large as the museum is, less than 20 percent of the collection is on display at any given time.) I pause for a late lunch at the café—great food—and sit in the garden for a charming little reset before diving back in. Monet’s stacks of wheat remind me what repetition can achieve. There are Van Goghs here you haven’t seen on a million mugs, but don’t skip the Pissarros. I breeze through the Greek, Etruscan, Roman and Egyptian galleries but somehow miss the entire Asian art collection. I cap off my visit at Marc Chagall’s America Windows and leave feeling artistically overfed yet hungry for more.

    Andi Crist’s Precautionary Measures. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    After a stop back at the hotel, where I freshen up and check out Andi Crist’s Precautionary Measures, a site-specific installation that transforms symbols of caution and containment into a new visual language (then installed at Chicago Athletic Association), I hop on the train toward 400 N. Peoria. It’s the hub of CXW and the site of “Over My Head: Encounters with Conceptual Art in a Flyover City, 1984–2015,” a special exhibition curated by Gareth Kaye and Iris Colburn and presented by Abby Pucker’s Gertie.

    The weather is perfection—so close to ideal it’s practically invisible. But I’m off to an inauspicious start. My GPS goes haywire, and I’m spinning around River North in a mild panic, trying to figure out where the hell I am. And once I do, I’m unfashionably early—as in, they’re-still-setting-up-the-bar early. But someone lets me in, and the bartenders take pity on me, which is how I score a private preview of the show. I spend an embarrassingly long time standing in the room where Jordan Wolfson’s hypnotic Perfect Lover (2007), one of my favorite works, is playing on a loop.

    An installation view of “Over My Head: Encounters with Conceptual Art in a Flyover City, 1984–2015
” at 400 N. Peoria. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    As the gallery fills, I’m still feeling untethered. I spot Tony Karman. I eavesdrop on conversations, playing a game of Artist, Collector or Scenester? I linger by Wendy Jacob’s Untitled (1988), watching it breathe, then lose myself in Rashid Johnson’s Remembering D.B. Cooper (2013), until Ellen Kaulig, chief of staff at the Chicago Reader, saves me from myself by introducing me to Pucker. In a relatively quiet spot under the stairs, she tells me how Chicago Exhibition Weekend evolved over three years and where the idea for “Over My Head” came from.

    “It’s a bit of a double entendre—being a flyover city, right? People don’t often attribute movements like conceptual art to Chicago, but it is an amazing nerve center of that,” she says, calling the planning phase a whirlwind. “We talked to these absolute icons. People like Karsten Lund, Helen Goldenberg, Laura Paulson, John Corbett and Jim Dempsey… just people who have been integral to this area for so many years.” Chicago’s art elite were, she said, excited to share, and the resulting show collected work from Molly Zuckerman-Hartung, Dara Birnbaum, Rosemarie Trockel, Martin Puryear, Tony Lewis and others.

    “They don’t think so highly of themselves that they’re detached from reality,” she adds. “They’re around. I think sometimes that might work to our detriment, because it’s hard to brand something as cool when it’s so inviting—but it’s fucking cool to be invited.”

    Rashid Johnson‍, Remembering D.B. Cooper, 2013. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    That word—invited—comes up again when I talk to Chanelle Lacy, Gertie’s director of art initiatives, about the crossover between CXW and EarlyWork: “We want to lower barriers to entry. We try to demystify things because once you actually get into it, it’s not that scary. The art world just looks a little intimidating from the outside. We want to expose people to the finer side of things and be a lifeline. And everything is very serious—it’s just about making it more approachable, so people feel invited into the experience.”

    The exhibition dinner is where I meet Friche, along with Carla Acevedo-Yates (if the name’s familiar, it’s because she’s on the documenta 16 curatorial team), several dealers and a cadre of arts-friendly businesspeople and politicians. I stay and schmooze for as long as I can before exhaustion sets in.

    Molly Zuckerman-Hartung‍, Notley, 2013. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    Day 1

    I’d planned to follow one of the curated routes that the CXW team had Chicago artists, gallerists and creatives put together, but last night Friche hand-drew me a one-of-a-kind mapped itinerary—and really, how could I possibly say no to that? But Chicago’s art museums don’t open until 10 a.m., and the galleries open even later, so I decide to wander toward Lake Michigan. I get sidetracked by the absolute unit of a fountain in the distance—it’s Clarence F. Buckingham Memorial Fountain—and I start heading that way, thinking it can’t be too far. And it’s not, technically, but its sheer scale plays tricks on your senses. I know I’m close when I pass Turtle Boy and Dove Girl and the North Rose Garden, which must be stunning at the height of summer, and then I keep going for a quick peek at Magdalena Abakanowicz’s leggy Agora.

    Clarence F. Buckingham Memorial Fountain. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    I haven’t even officially started my day, but I’ve already clocked more than a mile—according to Friche’s map, in the wrong direction. After an about-face, I get plenty of lake views on my three-mile walk to the MCA Chicago, which is showing “City In A Garden: Queer Art and Activism” and “Wafaa Bilal: Indulge Me,” along with “Collection in Conversation with Pablo Helguera” across all three floors of the museum’s stairwell galleries. Like the Art Institute, MCA Chicago is a feast, but a much more digestible one. You can see everything in a couple of hours, which is ideal because my weekend itinerary is threatening to become an endurance sport.

    Nick Cave’s Sound Suit (2008) in “City in a Garden: Queer Art and Activism in Chicago” at MCA Chicago. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    First stop: Patron Gallery for Bethany Collins’s “DUSK,” which is nuanced but underwhelming as presented—or maybe I’m just too overstimulated post-museum to process it properly. Next up: Western Exhibitions, Document, Volume Gallery and David Salkin Creative, which all share a floor at 1709 West Chicago Avenue. Friche is in, and she tells me the neighborhood is a hub for emerging contemporary art, but you’ll also find heavy-hitters like Mariane Ibrahim Gallery and Corbett vs. Dempsey. “It definitely concentrates a lot of the scene,” she says. “And it feels pretty supportive—we each have our own identity. I think it’s hard to find programs in Chicago that resemble each other. I’m not saying anything negative about New York, but sometimes you go to Chelsea and see the same kind of painting shows over and over. I feel like here, you don’t have that.”

    Journie Cirdain’s Chandelier Dewdrops (2025), part of “The Gloaming” at Western Exhibitions gallery. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    Unlike Scott Speh, she’s more than happy to talk about what makes Chicago’s art scene unique: “Because our overhead is manageable, it’s more accessible to open spaces and experiment. Eventually, you get a bit more constrained by the commercial aspects—if you want longevity, you do need to sell some art. That affects your choices. But there’s still a bit more breathing room here than in the coastal cities, given how unaffordable things have become in San Francisco and New York.”

    Kiah Celeste’s Four Shores (2025) at Document. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    I linger over Kiah Celeste and Gordon Hall’s work at Document and Journie Cirdain’s “The Gloaming” at Western Exhibitions before briefly popping into “Porfirio Gutiérrez: Modernism” at Volume Gallery. Then I’m back out on the streets, where I’m spoiled for choice but already flirting with art fatigue. Sadly, Monica Meloche gallery isn’t opening its Luke Agada and Braxton Garneau show until tomorrow, so I make my way to Mariane Ibrahim for “Yukimasa Ida: Flaming Memory.” It is, in a word, transcendent. I stand for a long time in front of each painting, hypnotized by the massive brushstrokes and thick layers of paint that blur into half-remembered faces—like fragments of a dream fading faster than I can hold on.

    I think about squeezing in a few more galleries, but once again, I’ve grossly underestimated Chicago’s distances—and I’m hitting the wall. In a way, it’s a happy accident: I return to my hotel to the news that the iconic Agnes Gund has passed away, and her obit is waiting in my production queue. I edit, publish and then dash out to gape at the Chicago Picasso before hopping on the train to yet another neighborhood: Washington Park.

    Darius Dennis, SEEN. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    I’m here to see a different side of the art scene and join the large crowd gathered at the Green Line Performing Arts Center for a tour of the imagined Washington Park Public Art Corridor. In several batches, a trolley ferries us to Amanda Williams Other Washingtons at 51st and S. King Drive, the future site of Breath, Form & Freedom, created by the Chicago Torture Justice Memorials Foundation to honor victims of police torture, and Arts + Public Life’s Arts Lawn for a preview of Yvette Mayorga’s City Lovers in Paradise. I learn more about Chicago’s recent history in a few hours than I could’ve gleaned from a week of reading—and not all of it’s pretty. Back at the arts center, there’s live music, dance and collaborative art-making with artist and teacher William Estrada, who’s brought his Mobile Street Art Cart Project to the Art Lawn.

    When I ask Estrada about the art scene, he’s frank. “There are a lot of spaces where not everyone is welcome, and that’s the worst part of it,” he says. “But the best part is that there’s a lot of art in Chicago, and you can see it across 77 neighborhoods. That’s the part I get really excited about—because you get to experience different art in different communities, and actually engage in conversations about what that art means and who made it with the folks who are being affected by it or get to experience it directly.”

    Jaume Plensa’s Crown Fountain. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    And that’s exactly why I’m here—not just for CXW (which is fantastic) or the city’s world-class museums (also fantastic) but to understand what makes Chicago’s art pulse so distinct. Back in the Loop, I stroll around Millennium Park waiting for a text from Wilma’s letting me know my barbecue is ready. The evening is gorgeous—warm, breezy and humming with life. Kids are splashing in Crown Fountain, musicians are playing on the sidewalks, and the whole scene radiates that beautiful combination of grit and charm. I can see why so many people love it here.

    Day 2

    If you have limited time in Chicago—say, you’re breezing in for a weekend of art and, like me, you’ll be operating without wheels—you need to think hyper-locally. This is a city of neighborhoods, each with its own cultural flavor and art offerings. Hyde Park has the Smart Museum of Art, the Renaissance Society, Hyde Park Art Center and the Logan Center Gallery (plus the Griffin Museum of Science and Industry, the Institute for the Study of Ancient Cultures Museum and the DuSable Black History Museum in nearby Washington Park). Lincoln Park has the DePaul Art Museum and Wrightwood 659. Ukrainian Village and West Town boast a cluster of commercial galleries, along with the Ukrainian Institute of Modern Art and Intuit Art Museum.

    The Chicago Picasso. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    If there are specific museums or galleries you’re determined to hit, book a spot somewhere central. Because if you’re coming from New York and assuming you’ll just zip between neighborhoods like you’re downtown, you’re in for a rude awakening. Chicago is about ten times the size of Manhattan in terms of land area—which is why, during my final hours in town, I’m speedwalking the South Loop’s Wabash Arts Corridor. (Sidenote: I consider myself a hotel gym connoisseur, but I racked up so many steps during my two-day stay that I never once made it to the Chicago Athletic Association gym. No regrets.)

    Crisscrossing streets so eerily empty of cars they feel post-apocalyptic, I admire murals not just on walls but also on doors, alleyways and parking lots. Initiated by Columbia College Chicago in 2013, the Wabash Arts Corridor project has brought more than 100 murals to the neighborhood, including We Own the Future by Shepard Fairey. I’m especially charmed by Marina Zumi’s Impossible Meeting and the candy-colored Moose Bubblegum Bubble by Jacob Watts, and wish I had more time to wander—but I need to get back to Chicago Athletic Association for my final art experience of the trip: the “City as Platform” breakfast conversation.

    Jacob Watts’s Bubblegum Moose Bubble, one of the Wabash Art Corridor Murals. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    On my straight-line power walk back to my hotel, I marvel at Chicago’s abundant parking—a downright shocking sight for a New Yorker—and pause to peer into the windows of Elephant Room Gallery, one of many I didn’t make it to, which is showing Darin Latimer’s solo exhibition “Rhinoceros.” Other things I don’t do in Chicago: participate in the “Throw your phone into a body of water!” activation by Weatherproof, which invited art lovers to toss their phones into any handy body of water on September 19, 20 or 21 whenever the numbers on a clock added up to four in military time (e.g. 0400 or 2200)—though I was sorely tempted. Attend the Improvised Sound Making at The Franklin. See “Alex Katz: White Lotus” at GRAY. Visit the National Museum of Mexican Art and the National Veterans Art Museum.

    Cheri Lee Charlton’s Curious Bunny. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    Before the talk—an engaging conversation between Kate Sierzputowski (artistic director of EXPO CHICAGO), Nora Daley (co-chair of the Chicago Architecture Biennial), Christine Messineo (Frieze director of Americas) and, no surprise, Abby Pucker, who greets me warmly, by name, when I check in. As Sierzputowski notes when the convo kicks off, the panel “reflects the best of what Chicago has to offer: collaboration across sectors, deep civic commitment and a shared mission to place the city’s cultural work on a global stage.” Daley calls CXW a “cultural palooza” and declares that “Chicago shows up,” which is something I see in action, over and over, during my short time here. “I think it’s who’s in the room at these dinners is what makes this work,” Sierzputowski agrees—whether that’s gallerists, artists, curators, museum directors and civic leaders or, as Pucker reminds us, engaged corporate entities committed to supporting the arts in Chicago.

    “City as Platform,” one of the Chicago Exhibition Weekend talks. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    “The creative economy contributes massively to city revenues, yet the people in power often don’t see or understand it,” she says. “We’ve seen perception hurt Chicago. Every city has problems—but if the media only amplifies those, we lose people. Art and culture can bring them back.”

    Ironically, the end of the conversation marks the close of my 48 hours of art in Chicago. As I ride the Blue Line back to O’Hare, mulling over everything I’ve experienced, it hits me: as thrilling as it is to be here during Chicago Exhibition Weekend, there’s just too much on the CXW agenda and not enough time to do it. What I experienced in two days was barely a teaser of what this city has to offer. So with that in mind, Abby, if you’re reading this, I have three words for you: Chicago Exhibition Week. Think about it.

    Strreet art by Doc Mosher. Photo: Christa Terry for Observer

    48 Hours of Art in Chicago: CXW, Museums and Monuments to Come

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    Christa Terry

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