The art world has descended upon the Windy City for EXPO Chicago, but perhaps the most poignant conversation is happening in Bronzeville. Blanc Gallery has officially unveiled “I Used to Live in Chicago,” a multidisciplinary exhibition that serves as both a love letter to the past and a critical reflection on the present. Curated by cultural strategist Anefertiti Bowman, the exhibition opened its doors on April 10, coinciding with one of the most vibrant cultural weeks in the city, and immediately distinguished itself by shifting the focus from the commercial spectacle of art fairs to the raw, lived experience of community, memory, and displacement. The exhibition invites visitors into a space that feels less like a gallery and more like a collective living room, filled with the echoes of porch conversations, the rhythm of neighborhood basslines, and the bittersweet acknowledgement of a city in constant, often painful, transformation.
Key Highlights
- Curatorial Vision: The exhibition is curated by Anefertiti Bowman, known for her work in creating spaces that bridge the gap between institutional critique and deeply human community storytelling.
- Intergenerational Dialogue: The show bridges the divide between contemporary creators like Norman Teague, Max Sansing, and Steve Bravo, and elder Chicago legends including Sura Dupart, Tyrue “Slang” Jones, and Patric McCoy.
- Cultural Context: Situated in Bronzeville, the gallery utilizes the exhibition to explore the impact of redevelopment and the concept of access—who retains ownership of a neighborhood’s narrative as it gentrifies?
- Multidisciplinary Scope: The works range from furniture design and sculptural forms to mural-scale oil paintings, reflecting the diverse creative output of Chicago’s South Side.
The Echoes of Bronzeville: Memory as Resistance
“I Used to Live in Chicago” is not merely an art show; it is a conceptual project about the fragility of belonging. By situating the exhibition within the historic neighborhood of Bronzeville, Blanc Gallery grounds the work in a geography that has been defined by its resilience, its cultural output, and its susceptibility to the forces of urban erasure. The title itself—I Used to Live in Chicago—is a haunting, universal phrase that speaks to the diaspora of residents who have been pushed out by rising costs, redevelopment, or simply the shifting tides of the city’s socioeconomic landscape.
Beyond the Canvas: A Multidisciplinary Approach
Unlike traditional galleries that might prioritize a single medium, this exhibition thrives on variety. Norman Teague’s furniture design brings a tactile, functional element to the conversation, suggesting that design itself is a form of civic engagement. When we sit in a chair designed to reflect the culture of its environment, we are literally supporting our own history. Meanwhile, Max Sansing, a muralist whose work has become part of the city’s visual DNA, transitions into the fine art sphere here with large-scale oil paintings. This pivot is significant; it elevates the muralist’s street-level perspective to the gallery wall, demanding that the art world treat street-level narratives with the same reverence as “high art.”
The Curatorial Hand of Anefertiti Bowman
Anefertiti Bowman has crafted a narrative that avoids the trap of pity. Instead of looking at Chicago’s changing landscape with sorrow, the exhibition focuses on dignity. The work by elder artists like Sura Dupart and Patric McCoy acts as an anchor. Their presence in the exhibition serves as a living library, providing context for the younger generation of artists who are now grappling with the same questions of identity and legacy. Bowman’s ability to create a safe space for this dialogue is what elevates the exhibition from a display of objects to an active, healing ceremony. She frames the exhibition not as an obituary for what was lost, but as a blueprint for what must be remembered.
Navigating Displacement and Gentrification
One of the most powerful themes explored in the show is the concept of “access.” Who gets to stay? Who is pushed out? Through object-based design and graphic storytelling, the artists examine the tangible artifacts of community—the front porch, the neighborhood store, the shared soundtrack of passing cars. These are the markers of home that, once erased, leave behind a void that no new construction can fill. The exhibition argues that true community is not just proximity; it is a practice. It is something we do, not just somewhere we live. By highlighting these practices, the artists force the viewer to consider the real-world implications of development on the social fabric of the city.
A Legacy of Resilience
As EXPO Chicago 2026 continues to draw international eyes to the city, the relevance of “I Used to Live in Chicago” cannot be overstated. It serves as a necessary counter-narrative to the idea that culture is something that arrives in a city from the outside. The exhibition insists that the culture was already here, deeply rooted in the soil, in the architecture, and in the generational knowledge of those who built the city. By supporting this exhibition, the community is not just celebrating art; they are reinforcing the importance of preserving the stories that make Chicago the complex, resilient, and deeply alive place that it is.
FAQ: People Also Ask
Q: Where can I see ‘I Used to Live in Chicago’ and how long is it open?
A: The exhibition is hosted by the Blanc Gallery in Chicago. It opened on April 10, 2026, and is scheduled to run through May 24, 2026. Visitors are encouraged to check the gallery’s website for specific hours.
Q: Who are some of the key artists featured in the exhibition?
A: The exhibition features a mix of contemporary and elder Chicago artists, including furniture designer Norman Teague, muralist Max Sansing, art director Steve Bravo, Sura Dupart, Tyrue “Slang” Jones, and Patric McCoy.
Q: How does this exhibition relate to EXPO Chicago?
A: The exhibition opened during the same week as EXPO Chicago, leveraging the influx of art-world professionals and enthusiasts to the city to highlight local narratives and Black cultural production that might otherwise be overlooked by the larger fair’s commercial focus.
