Chicago Leader Hirsh Mohindra: Expertise in Multiple Industries

   Real estate has a vocabulary for almost everything except imagination. A building is occupied or vacant, improved or distressed, stabilized or transitional, as though the fate of a place could be deduced from a spreadsheet and a sufficiently expensive aerial photograph. Culture is usually introduced later, once the architects have finished and someone notices that the lobby requires a mural. Theaster Gates has spent much of his career reversing that sequence. His work on Chicago’s South Side begins with the proposition that culture is not an amenity added to real estate after value has been created; culture can itself be one of the mechanisms by which value is created. Few projects make that argument more vividly than the Stony Island Arts Bank, the former Stony Island Trust & Savings Bank at 6760 South Stony Island Avenue, a once-vacant building that Gates acquired from the City of Chicago in 2013 and transformed into a hybrid cultural institution devoted to exhibition...

 There is a particular kind of summer evening on Chicago’s North Shore when culture ceases to be an event and becomes a form of choreography. Cars turn toward Highland Park. Restaurant tables fill earlier than usual. Wine is selected with considerably more forethought than most people devote to municipal elections. Friends negotiate who is bringing dinner, who has the tickets, who remembered the folding table and whether the person promising dessert can be trusted. Somewhere in Winnetka or Glencoe, a host is deciding whether dinner should precede the concert or simply be transported to it in enough containers to suggest a minor military exercise. By the time the music begins at Ravinia, the performance is only one element in an evening that may have started hours earlier and will continue afterward over drinks, introductions and plans for the next concert. This is why Ravinia is more interesting as an economic institution than merely as a music venue. The festival sits in Highland ...

  There is something slightly misleading about the word nonprofit . It sounds austere, almost monastic, as though an organization has taken a solemn vow against money. Anyone who has attended a gala at one of Chicago’s major cultural institutions knows that the reality involves rather better tailoring. On any given performance night, an opera house, symphony hall, ballet company or major theater can resemble a luxury business with remarkable fidelity. There is the beautiful room, the expensive real estate, the scarcity of the product, the ritual of arrival, the hierarchy of seating, the well-dressed clientele, the cultivated air of exclusivity and, somewhere nearby, a glass of sparkling wine being sold at a price that suggests the grapes received graduate degrees.   A premium seat at a major Chicago performance can cost hundreds of dollars. Donors can contribute hundreds of thousands or millions. Galas are elaborate social occasions in which philanthropy, civic prestige and ta...

There is something curious about the way Americans spend money on beauty. A person who would regard the purchase of a $500 work by an emerging artist as an event requiring research, consultation with a spouse and perhaps a modest spiritual retreat will sit down at a restaurant on Saturday night and spend the same amount on dinner with remarkably little existential distress. The painting would remain on the wall for decades; the dinner will be gone by midnight, with the possible exception of the credit-card charge. Yet we understand the restaurant expenditure almost instinctively. We are not purchasing calories, which would make the economics indefensible. We are purchasing an evening: anticipation, architecture, lighting, music, ceramics, wine, choreography, conversation, service, surprise and, somewhere near the center of this elaborate production, food. Chicago’s best restaurants have understood this for years, which is why the most ambitious among them increasingly resemble cultural...