Forever Open, Clear, and Free

Millennium Park

Where a grimy rail yard and parking lot sat for decades, a 24.5-acre rooftop garden now anchors Chicago's lakefront.

You're standing at the northwest corner of Millennium Park, on what was, until 1997, a scar of gravel and railroad tracks. The Illinois Central Railroad held an easement here for nearly 150 years, running a single boxcar back and forth to maintain the legal fiction that the land was still in rail use. When the city discovered it actually owned the land underneath, Mayor Richard M. Daley seized the moment.

Construction began in 1998, and the park opened in July 2004, four years late and nearly half a billion dollars over the original estimate. But the result silenced every critic. The park sits on top of a parking garage and an active commuter rail station, making it one of the world's largest green roofs. The name Millennium was meant to mark the year 2000; the park arrived fashionably late.

Look east. The silver curve you see in the distance is where you're heading next.

Cloud Gate

Anish Kapoor's 110-ton mirror-polished steel sculpture reflects Chicago's skyline and everyone who stands before it.

You're standing before Cloud Gate, though almost nobody in Chicago calls it that. It's the Bean. Anish Kapoor's sculpture weighs 110 tons and is made of 168 stainless steel plates welded together so seamlessly that you cannot find a single joint. The surface was inspired by liquid mercury.

It took longer to polish than to build, and when the park opened in July 2004, it was still under a tent with workers buffing out the last imperfections. The final price tag was 23 million dollars, all private money. Walk underneath the 12-foot arch and look up. The mirrored ceiling multiplies you into a kaleidoscope, a concave chamber Kapoor called the omphalos, Greek for navel.

The sculpture reflects the Michigan Avenue street wall behind you, the sky above, and every person who walks past. Touch the surface. It is cleaned daily, sometimes twice, to keep that mirror finish. When you're ready, head north toward the silver ribbons rising above the tree line.

Jay Pritzker Pavilion

Frank Gehry's stainless steel bandshell, with 4,000 seats and room for 7,000 more on the Great Lawn.

Frank Gehry designed this bandshell, and it nearly broke the project. The curving stainless steel plates that frame the stage are Gehry's signature: brushed metal ribbons that look like they were caught mid-flight and frozen there. The pavilion cost 60 million dollars, funded by the Pritzker family of Hyatt Hotels fame. It seats 4,000 in fixed chairs and can hold another 7,000 on the Great Lawn.

Gehry insisted on a trellis of steel pipes that crisscrosses the lawn, suspending the sound system above the audience so everyone hears the same mix, whether you're in the front row or sprawled on the grass at the back. The pavilion sits on top of the Harris Theater, an indoor venue, and the two share a loading dock and backstage. In a park that exists only because the law said this land must stay open and clear of buildings, Gehry's creation is the grandest thing that ever slipped through. When you're ready, walk south out of the park toward the Beaux-Arts building with the green bronze roof on Michigan Avenue.