When I first discovered this East Village house on Chestnut Street and Ashland Avenue, it was too dark out to get a decent shot. I went back during the day and was able to make out the wooden crosses, crests, hearts, eagles and labels like “alligator love,” “Chicago, the greatest city in the world” and “Supreme” that cover the rickety facade. The front steps look like they are about to collapse, so I can only assume the people who live there use the back entrance. They certainly don’t need to bother with holiday decorations.
I know this house quite well. Catches my attention every time I drive by. What I don’t know is this: is it a hippie commune or an elder woman of the Slavic persuasion?
He is an eldery Slavic man. The house is in the AIA guide and he was profiled several years back, if I recall correctly, in the Tribune’s Sunday Magazine. He likes cats.