30 Days of Dinner Time, Day 20

In the window, Chris and BettyJo. Chris is a musician and researcher in Chicago and BettyJo works for Cutters Inc, a self described "editorial boutique" downtown. Chris and BettyJo had never met before their dinner and represent the first male/female stranger pairing of the piece. More than a few viewers mentioned the hypothesis that this would surely be the start of a love affair... probably the soap opera phenomenon left over in viewership, but funny nonetheless.


For dinner Chris brought a tortilla/guacamole combo and BettyJo brought cucumber salad. He drank cranberry juice and tonic while she had red wine. Chris also brought a stellar looking stuffed rabbit with a machine gun to sit on the table with them, as well as a large wooden wind instrument which they played for a while at the end of the night.

At the very start of the evening, a viewer mentioned something about the piece that they were drawn to: memory. He said most often he sees the piece later at night when the people are gone. Seeing the dining room empty always begged him to remember the reason for the piece and what might have happened in it just hours before. The emptiness activated his memory for life.

As I thought more about memory as an idea, so many interesting things happened. From far away the smell a man's cologne blew over me with the wind. As I didn't know Chris myself, the smell and the image mingled together creating my new memory for this man. Later in the night, while BettyJo tried her hand at the wooden flute, the music from an icecream truck played in the distance. The sensory combination tricked me into thinking she was playing that song on the instrument, just for a second.

After writing yesterday about the sensory divorce for the viewer over this month, tonight I was reminded that our perception and placement sometimes creates new memories out of varied senses. Surely Chris doesn't smell like that cologne nor does BettyJo play clown music on wooden flutes, but for just a moment they did, to me, because my world interfered and asked me to entertain the absurd idea that it might be true.

Also tonight Methaline stopped to talk, a semi-regular to the piece. This is one of a few times over the past 20 days where a person has poured their heart out on the steps of the window. We had the kind of conversation that brought tears to our eyes and bonded us indefinitely to one another... even in just a memory of that night. Again the gesture of intimacy is honored on both sides of the glass between strangers (as Chris recalled their evening was deep and unexpectedly intimate as well).

As this piece draws to an end, I want to dissect it for the elements of value and excess. But in moving to the next piece, beyond dinner, I hope to incorporate this powerful thing that keeps happening as a byproduct of 30 Days... the action and relief of unloading yourself into the arms of a caring stranger.

30 Days of Dinner Time, Day 19

In the window, Emily and Brittany. These two lovely ladies are contending with the award for youngest participants to date, late-teens/early twenties. Emily had originally signed up with her husband, Tony, but his schedule conflicted with the dinner. Emily explained that her and Brittany are the kind of friends who could spend hours talking about nothing but rarely get the opportunity.


For dinner they brought salad and spaghetti. Emily had water to drink while Brittany had two cans of Jumex, not sure which flavor. At one point they switched beverages for a while.

This was the second night of nice weather in a row... the kind of weather I anticipated the entire month of May. This may seem like a side note, but it makes the entire experience so much easier from the outside. Easier is not necessarily better, especially at this late phase which is already making me tired, but it is much more pleasurable. Hopefully it will improve foot traffic over the last ten days.

Tonight was much like other nights, pleasurable to watch and peppered with viewers. Two interactions stand out specifically. The first involved two men who sat down on the chairs for quite a while. With their open cans of Busch beer one viewed silently and the other engaged me in extensive conversation. The talker was a smart, inquisitve guy. He talked himself through his questions and I did my best to stay quiet while he worked. His final question was "is this art?", to which I responded by smiling and asking him the same question back. Then he smiled and restated the question "is it art" in a tone which sufficed as his satisfied answer.

The second stand-out interaction came long after the dinner had ended. I managed to catch the last fifteen mintues of our small group (for church) which meets Wednesday nights. I was able to have a quick but filling conversation with Tuwanda, a friend from group, about the progress of the piece. We were conversing in a thick layer of cocktail conversations, as ten people carried on five different conversations in one room.

I told her that in the past I had so often wished there was a way to turn off the white noise generated by group-chat in order to see a quiet version of their interactions. In saying that I realized I had actually created that through 30 Days... this ever-present wish in the back of my mind for years has finally become a possibility. But now, after so much seeing and so little hearing... the hum of their chatter felt like a warm blanket on a cold day. I still couldn't hear their stories specifically, but the sound felt alive, messy, non-sterile. To the degree that starving makes you appreciate food all the more, I found myself comforted by the tangibility of this sound which I have been fasting from for three weeks. Apparently I have missed viewing life with my ears, and I'm thankful to realize it's not a give-in, but a gift to do so.

30 Days of Dinner Time, Day 18

In the window, Roland and Pam. Pam just graduated with her Masters in Clinical Pschology. Roland, Pam's boyfriend, decided to throw her a surprise party in lieu of these great accomplishments. Pam knew she would be having a nice dinner with Roland, but did not realize there would be decorations, presents, and an after party with friends who came to view their dinner time.


Roland made steak and a delicious looking side dish for dinner. They drank raspberry gingerale out of wine glasses, which gave off the most surreal pink hue. He hung banners and signs for the graduate, brought in a floor lamp, two helium balloons, speakers and music, a small table upon which were wrapped presents of many chocolate variations, a stuffed animal, a vase of purple and white flowers (closed tulips, Pam's favorite) and a homemade picture book.

This dinner did a great job of representing those moments of Event which occur in our lives all the time. The celebrations or big-deal-situations which we often bring out a camera to help us remember.

Viewership changed drastically for this dinner. There was confusion for those who had seen the piece in previous nights, as though the large amount of decorations changed the inside of the window so much that it felt like a new piece altogether. For those who hadn't previously encountered the piece it became a game of talking with them through the entire month, so they could understand that each night is not actually a graduation party. It seems that most viewers have paid very little attention to the physical space on other nights... but the wall hangings and domestic additions made the space incredibly apparent. Instead of standing as a stage, it became a locatable place.

Then just as "quickly" as the event began, it ended. The space became a stage again. This is definitely the most vivacious example of objects having a direct relationship to the interaction of the participants. Pam and Roland danced, moved around, gave and received gifts and interacted with the outside viewers. It was good to see the connection between things and actions, objects and intentions, tangible and intangible become apparent.

30 Days of Dinner Time, Day 17

In the window, Nicole and Matt. They are the fifth married couple of the piece, though the other four were scheduled almost back to back in the first week. I went to grad school with Nicole, she is graduating in the next few weeks with her MFA. Matt is starting his residency as a medical doctor in the near future.


For dinner, Matt prepared a home cooked meal. Chicken with seafood marinara, salad, an amber colored beverage stored in a nalgene bottle, and a bottle of bubbly which they happily finished between them.

Tonight was the night of Clocks and Cars.

I have never been more aware of the time passing than I was for this dinner. Talking with them afterward, Nicole and Matt felt the awkwardness of the piece, the tension of not wanting to be theatrical but needing to be to maintain sanity on this small stage. Though she may not have realized the frequency, Nicole spent a great deal of energy responding to the awkwardness by checking the clock, her watch, anything for a gravity on her pending escape. Being aware of the time made it all the more present, even from the outside.

Cars come into play when talking about the night's viewership. Not many people walked by on foot but a great deal of vehicles pulled off to watch, honked, paused at an intesection, and momentarily parked to observe the piece. I find it interesting that the night which (potentially) the most self-aware participants were in the window was also the night that the entire neighborhood opted to observe in secrecy. Perhaps the tension of expecting observation without experiencing it outright could make a participant even more self-conscious... reminiscent of "they're always watching" conspiracy theories.

The second set of police officers for this piece joined the drive-up viewing as well. I mentioned last time how goody-two-shoes I feel when speaking with the police, as I've never been in any serious trouble in my life. This interaction was different though. When I walked to them to introduce myself, they seemed nervous of ME. As though I was going to blame them for staring with their governmental eyes, ruining my pure gesture. In the conversation of assumptions and perseptions, these two police officers must have a very interesting image of their presence in the world... they are not just people, they're symbols. Symbols watching secretly like all the others but also always on stage themselves.

30 Days of Dinner Time, Day 16

In the window, Gloria and Tiffany. They know each other well enough to have had lunch together after church or carry on small conversations in group settings, but that I know of they've never had a one-on-one conversation for this duration. Also, they will be taking on roommate status with one another at the start of July, so this conversation was not only one for bettering a new friendship, but also for sorting out how they will be living beside one another in the near future.


For dinner they brought Mexican food from a restaurant down the street. Tiff had a water bottle and Gloria had a diet 7up with a straw. They brought Uno cards but didn't use them. Gum in shiny blue wrappers came out at the end.

Nate and I brought our dinner from the same Mexican restaurant as the participants... but our burritos revolted against us and my jarritos bruised Nate's hand in the process of opening. Being hungry at dinner time is one thing, but it's very hard to talk about the work with passers by as your hands are covered in red spicy sauce and you have meat in your teeth. This was just one example of my dispostition through the entire dinner. Whether due to preoccupations or the fact that the piece just made it past halfway, I felt "off" all night. Perhaps a contributing factor was my comfort level with both women in the window, this may have disabled some of the tension I have become accustomed to while being a viewer.

Overall, it was the night which left me feeling like I'd gotten too used to the piece. It all felt very normal, as though it had become a task to finish. That might be a mandatory part of the process when doing something for this many days consecutively, but I would much rather be amazed than comfortable. But the same goes with human relationships, intimacy always fights against boredom... the better you know someone the more likely you are to take them for granted.

My thoughts from the outside in no way take away from what happened on the inside though. This is another part of this piece that I love. Tiffany and Gloria seemed to have an engaging time together. Our viewpoints are divorced from one another and yet inextricably linked at the same time.

30 Days of Dinner Time, Day 15

In the window, Danielle, Kim and Vikki. Originally Kim and Vikki were planned to dine together in the normal format (two people in chairs at the table). A few hours before dinner Kim asked if their friend Danielle could come as well, and I happily agreed. This marks the first night for a non-traditional format. I had originally imagined some participants would want to engage with the floor as they defined dinner time but this is the first time it's happened.


For dinner they brought... everything. I sincerely believe they purchased at least one food item from every aisle in the grocery store. This includes but is not limited to rotisserie chicken, hummus, tapanade, flatbread, a veggie tray, vitamin water, iced tea.... It was a wonderful picnic on steroids.

Not only was the dining style a unique element to the night, there were many other elements that were out of the ordinary. Immediately following dinner, an Evanston artist was having a one-night-only performance inside the studio space of Art on Armitage. This meant the dinner conversation was being overheard from inside by any early arrivals to the space. Normally the inside space is isolated and quiet, acting as a vault for whatever is said. Mary Ellen (the gallery owner) mentioned the interesting scensory disconnect from inside the building to outside... from inside you can hear and smell the dinner but cannot see, from outside you can see but cannot hear or smell.

There was also a much more concentrated out-of-neighborhood viewership as people filtered in for the nighttime performance. This included other artists from Chicago and even, unexpectedly, a couple who's wedding I'm photographing this summer.

In addition to all this (yes there's more), a photographer from the Tribune was present. This was altogether a new kind of viewership for the piece, especially as the ladies in the window knew the source and purpose of our photographer friend. From 7pm til almost the very end of the evening a relentless amount of photos were taken by our friend. It's one thing to know a stranger is studying your behavior and a completely different thing to know that you are being watched intently through the eyes of a recording device which will be presenting your photo for the entire city to see.

Watching tonight, I felt not only the ladies' sense of obligation to the piece, but also their incredible image-awareness. This may have been the only way to turn the image of themselves as art back onto themselves as participants... for them to come as close as possible to phsychologically experiencing the image we see from the outside. In contrast to other nights where I have felt inside the window mentally while my body sat on the sidewalk, perhaps tonight the women in the space sat mentally outside looking in at themselves as images, as art objects.

30 Days of Dinner Time, Day 14

In the window, Laura and Grace. These two ladies are dear friends of mine and friends of one another. Though I know their apologies go as far as the moon from the earth, they were about 25 minutes late for the 7pm start time. Thus I am presented with another opportunity to decide if I am justifying aspects of the piece that I can't control (giving them meaning though they have none) or if these things are happy accidents which illuminate something new about the work. So far I'm leaning to the latter, but the jury is still out. Surely their asbense, prompting the neighborhood kids to exclaim from outside "where are they, it's 7!", is an interesting proof to my hopes for creating a habit.


For dinner they brought an assortment of McDonald's cuisine with warm Miller Light for dessert. This is SO funny. Grace may be one of the most food oriented people on the planet, taking weekend trips to NYC just to eat. However, their lateness left them no choice but to pick up the fastest and most available food. They embraced it like champions though, such confidence.

Day 14 ended up being ladies night. Foot traffic was very light to start. This left me time to interact with my goofy dinner mates, who laughed and giggled their way through the night. The fun they were having helped me laugh out loud many times.

Later in the evening, a woman stopped by and sat for a while, her name is Diane but a lot of people call her Barbie. We began to talk on the chairs about the piece. That conversations quickly turned into one about our lives, which then led into a time of bonding with a woman who doesn't often bond with anyone. She calls herself a lady of the night but in spite of her professional activities, she is a woman who very much wanted to connect with someone in a meaningful way.

To add to the femininity of the evening, a woman from the neighborhood brought her daughter (or grand-daughter) to watch as well. They spoke very little english, so they talked amongst themselves about the piece and watched. While Grace and Laura caught up in the window like old friends, four ladies of all different backgrounds and ages caught up on the sidewalk. I couldn't help but be amazed at the simultaneity of our activities... it had the feeling of a middle school slumber party.

It seems there is a safety in this piece that makes it possible for openness. I am blessed to be witness to even just a moment of the vulnerability people have expressed around this piece, inside and outside the glass. It's humbling to be given something so intimate by so many and it's important that I respect that gift and accept it graciously. This gift is just as much a framework for the work as the glass in the window.