The towers' LED screens project the faces of 1,000 different Chicago residents, which are perfectly aligned with spouts so that it appears they are spitting water on passersby. Most visitors come to Millennium Park to see the Crown Fountain and Cloud Gate, better known as "The Bean." Designed by Spanish artist Jaume Plensa, the Crown Fountain features two 50-foot towers that face each other at opposite ends of a shallow reflecting pool.
Situated in the Loop just north of the Art Institute of Chicago, this 25-acre space is used to showcase cutting-edge art, architecture and landscaping it also acts as a backdrop for concerts and festivals. and 2 a.m.A first-time visit to Chicago isn't complete without a stop at Millennium Park. It’s essentially one giant bathroom mirror that’s in service for selfies all day rather than between 10 p.m. People aren’t taking photos of it because of the reflection of the skyline and its surroundings they’re taking photos of it because they can still be the focal point of the photos no matter what vantage point you take it from. You don’t like this stupid monument because it’s architecturally beautiful – you like it because you can stand in front of it, stare at yourself, and make a goofy face that you can Snapchat to your friends.
We’ve reached a point as a society where everything is about you. But more importantly, it’s because The Fist lacks the mirrored surface that graces the entirety of The Bean. You know why people aren’t taking selfies in front of the Monument to Joe Louis in Detroit like they are in front of The Bean? Well, sure, it’s partially because not that many people are visiting Detroit. You can call it “Cloud Gate” all you want but I’ve never seen a cloud shaped like that before. The Bean’s designer, Anish Kapoor, actually hates the fact that it’s called “The Bean,” but earth to Anish Kapoor – it’s a fucking bean and nothing else. Half of modern art is just the product of an artist telling you there’s significance behind something when, in actuality, they’re just trying to make an honest buck like the rest of us. The only difference is that mine is less Instagrammable so no one would take selfies in front of it. Sure, this is “modern art,” but I could literally prick my finger and smear blood all over a canvas and dub it “modern art” too. I, personally, am not a fan of any monument that holds essentially zero cultural relevance. It’s gotten to the point of self-awareness where people know that taking a photo in front of it is cliché, yet they still indulge because they yearn for people to know that, yes, they did go to Chicago and they did do something else besides drink well vodka in Wrigleyville.Īnd while my hatred for “The Bean” is perpetuated by the photos of it, it goes deeper than that.
#Chicago bean picture full
It builds during the spring only to culminate during Lollapalooza when every millennial on your feed flocks to Chicago to dress like a gypsy, carry around water bottles full of vodka, and black out to a bunch of bands they just started listening to on Spotify once the lineup came out. Since 2006, we’ve all been staring at photos of this abomination on every form of social media that Mark Zuckerberg shoves down our willing throats. It’s apparently called “Cloud Gate,” but it’s more well-known to the rest of the world as The Chicago Bean. That turd nugget of a disco ball that’s consistently surrounded by tourists and native Chicagoans alike. It has to do with the mirrored lump of coal that sits smack dab in the middle of Millennium Park. No one cares.īut above all, by far, bar none, the worst part about the city of Chicago has nothing to do with food, sports, or people. Like, we get it, there’s a knife through it and an egg. And while I’m sure the Au Cheval burger tastes like a little chunk of heaven that fell directly onto your plate, I’m sick and tired of seeing the same goddamn picture of it on Instagram. Transplant Cubs fans might be the most annoying group of people that have ever collected in one geographical area. Notre Dame grads are on-par with Cardinals fans on the Holier Than Thou Scale of Miserableness. I want to punch Patrick Kane straight in the jaw.
There’s a lot about Chicago that I absolutely despise.
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