I arrive at Pebble Beach to see Lake Michigan, just a block away from my home in the Kenwood neighborhood. The weather is cold and windy, typical of Chicago in March, but the sunny day makes me feel less cold. On the left side, I see the skyline and shoreline of the city. The Sears Tower is on the left, Trump Tower and Aon Center are in the middle, and the John Hancock Center is on the right—distinctive architecture visible from Pebble Beach. I stand at the entrance of Pebble Beach and turn around to see the running path.

 

On the right side, I see an oil ship kind of structure, which is an orange mandarin hue with domes from the oil ship f above the water horizon. White smoke is coming out of a pipe, but it’s hard to tell whether it is from the domes or from factories in nearby Gary, Indiana.

 

I see the Michigan lake with a horizontal view. The water is a light turquoise hue, which is pretty opaque. I notice different shades of blue—like cerulean with a slight tint, making the lake resemble a watercolor painting. The water wave has a certain rhythm, slowly, while the sky remains still. I can hear the colors of the water. Water can symbolize cleansing, life, death, or wealth. I am excavating my memory while I am looking at the water; my mom said that living near water brings wealth. I closely examine the color of the water. Now, the water has become more greenish, with a light cerulean blue hue because of the changing light. Again, the water  is opaque today because of the waves muddied with sand. I observe, learning how to look more closely.  Pebble Beach is a constructed public space first established in 1909 and designed by architects, urban planners, and bureaucrats. This area was originally a body of water, not a man-made beach. According to the Chicago Park District, Pebble Beach is now planning to expand, and the community has expressed concerns about this development, which is ironic.

​

What does it mean to me to think about the history of  Pebble Beach by looking at the lake? Who owns this history? How history is being told and by whom?  Am I romanticizing this knowledge?

 

The German word Fernweh describes an ache for experiences never had and sensations never felt. It is a yearning for the complete unknown, a place free from the limiting confines of familiar space. It is also where we imagine endless possibilities and realize how limitless the conditions of our existence really are.[1] While I am thinking about Fernweh, I am also monumentalizing a statement Fred Moten shared during his 2023 talk at the  Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, “We are located by structure, we should romanticize anti-structure.”[2]

 

[1] Talia Gutin, Not Here (Chicago: Fernwey, 2015).

[2] Moton, Fred. “Festac and Fela.” The New Art School Modality- Festac. 31, Oct. 2023. Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA). Lecture.