Believe it or not, there is still hope for antique art in Chicago.  I have become acquainted with a man named Russell who lives, and works, in Logan Square.  He is trying to open a gallery specifically for decorative art to be bought and sold, provided it was created more than 50 years ago.  Russell is determined to see it through.  He invested almost all of his savings in this project.  He used to teach art history at DePaul and took an early retirement to work on his own art and write art articles.  This project, he told me, will be the culmination of his life’s efforts.  If he can do this he will die content.  He has no family to speak of.  A few cats live with him in his loft studio.  Once he had a charcoal drawing exhibited at Rosebud Galleries in Pennsylvania or New York, I forget which.  That gallery is obsolete now, he said.  He offered me tea and scones—how charming!  He said he has always wanted to live in Great Britain, from where his grandparents came, but he feels as though somehow he’s needed here in the States at least as much.  The European sensibility, he explained, is what he’s trying to cultivate.  No cellular phone, no newspapers, only art journals.  He doesn’t own a television set.  What about the radio?  I inquired.  Well, if NPR has an art program on, he tries to find out when it will be.  No, he said firmly, my main mode of communicating is with former colleagues and with those who share my interest in transforming Chicago into a kind of London, Paris or Florence.