SPOTLIGHT: Lot49 is the DIY Venue Behind the Stained Glass Arrow

 

☆ BY Kora Elms Fleming

 
 

DIY VENUES ARE SPACES THAT YOU EVENTUALLY STUMBLE — or are dragged into. Their smelly bathrooms, Sharpie-covered walls, and deteriorating ceilings somehow get ignored for the hope of seeing someone so cool you get to tell your friends, “I saw them in a basement.”

During my first experience in Lot49, a Chicago DIY venue tucked into Ukrainian Village, I didn’t see the stained glass arrow made by T, or notice the copious amount of art tucked into the corners. We giggled around to the wrong entrance, staring at people who already made it in. Once we went down the right path, it led us to a sea of 20-somethings under fairy lights. Jokes, cigarettes, and the muffled tone of a punk band mingled in the air. I knew I had to write about this space. 

The second time, I interviewed T and H, founders of Lot49. I met T trumpet in hand as his band, Tunnel, recorded their upcoming album. I sat with H, squeezing into a kid's school chair listening to them play. An easel holding a huge canvas of a horse was next to me. Paintings laid haphazardly, a drumset in the corner, recording equipment, and remnants of their past shows decorating their space. I quickly realized Lot49 wasn’t just a venue — it was an exhibition.

Behind a stained glass arrow (which T made as optimistic signage to the entrance) lies Lot49, a DIY space that echoes its founders. There are remnants of themselves all over the space; the audience unknowingly steps into their minds when they enter a show. 

Lot49 is a project born out of necessity for H and T to explore and expand themselves creatively. They entangle their love for music with their hunger for visual art. Air guitar world champion, Justin “Nordic Thunder” Howard, orchestrated the visuals behind their 4/20 show. The pair’s friends exhibit their art behind a 20-something band getting their sea legs.

Lot49 celebrates art in every facet, letting Chicagoans live without a security guard breathing down their neck; allowing them to form a community behind a privacy fence and a collage on the wall. But what is it about T, H, and Lot49 that allows artists of all kinds to debut their newest album, single, or even their first show? 

T and H met in a DIY stars-aligning moment. T’s band practiced above H's apartment and ended up in H’s first venture of DIY music organizing.

“T hit me up and told me that he had acquired this haunted fun house that he wanted to do shows out of,” H explained. This haunted fun house used to be hardcore DIY space Mousetrap. Its space seems cursed or blessed with loud music and boots deteriorating its checkered floors. 

The founders' roots are in art school and music. As visual artists themselves, Lot49 mirrors a twisted art gallery. It’s a space that aims to feel welcome, creating something to write home about after every event. Their distinctive pairings of artists — with mediums from Chinese photography to sculptures — balance and complement the emerging bands that capture the stage.

“I like to create experiences,” H shared. “I want people to come to this show and be like, ‘I’m seeing some shit and hearing some shit that I’ve never seen before in my life.’”

There’s a story thought of in every show. How will Inkjet work with jazz powerhouses Lonnie, how will the art visuals play with Liska’s bubbling, whimsical tracks? H and T string these acts together in an intricate web with art as the stronghold — it’s unwavering.

“What I’ve been thinking the most is, ‘How do I cultivate in this bill some kind of musical narrative?’” T added. 

Entering Lot49, or T’s coined term of a “nightclub-themed birthday party,” the unknowingness of what you’re walking into is the draw. It’s mysterious and elusive, hidden behind a privacy fence and “DM for address” gatekeeper. G, the guitarist of Tunnel, described Lot49 as a “kaleidoscopic scene of all these different musicians, different artists showing up at the same place.” It’s true — the space is scattered, each piece reflecting a different part of T, H, and the revolving door of artists making their way with guitar cases and canvases in hand. Because of their open arms to all art, the venue charms and lures a different crowd at every event. Supporters are dragging their friends, 20-somethings, college kids, skaters, bikers, musicheads, and everyone involved.

“Every time we put on an event it's a huge sample of an audience,” H said. “All of these really intriguing factors that make it feel like things can be so unexpected every time.”

Lot49’s birthday parties create this hodgepodge of a community, tied together through music and the journey of getting to the space. 

DIY venues seem to sprout out of every sidewalk crack in Chicago. They are appropriately named with weird ambiguous titles: Lot49, Bookclub, The Attic, Wally World, Iguana House. But the thing about these spaces is the community they house. You start to see the same people circling shows, or the temporary “doorman” running up to go play bass. As an audience member, your proximity to the art is special. It’s something that you don’t get to see at a venue like The Salt Shed or Thalia Hall — it’s simply just a different experience.

These spaces serve as a crystal ball, forecasting who is the next big thing on the scene. That was T’s goal in creating Lot49 — he shared that he looked at all the space it had to offer and thought, “‘What can I use with all this square footage?’ I could paint and do studio work all day, but I could also throw events to build community.”

DIY spaces like Lot49 are the backbone of the music scene. They usually go undetected unless you stumble on a flier. It’s a space for bands to get their footing, to explore their range, and for an audience to feel a part of something bigger than themselves.

“I’m being really fluid about this space — I had to… It’s a multifaceted spot,” I think it will attract a lot of people. We carry some sort of responsibility to enrich it.”

Lot49 delivers that starry-eyed feeling, curious and hopeful, igniting something in you. Echoes of looping guitars and walls of sound are framed by the space: cracked and peeling crown moldings, dusty doorways, and a sea of people. Lot49 is a place you want to be, that you dream up when you hear your parents talk about seeing indie bands in the ’90s.

“We create the kind of spaces we want to see,” H said. “We're all here because we love art and we love music.”

Lot49 acts as T and H’s’ DIY love child. The space is equal parts them and the community they form every weekend.

“I’d like to think Lot49 is a space you could take someone on a first date,” H said. “If you can survive the wobbly toilet, I think they’ll be fine.”

T added, “Bring a date to hold it for you — the power of love would conquer any toilet.”

Bring a date, bring a friend, and bring your parents (maybe), but Lot49 is for everyone. Chicago needs these spaces; its music scene relies on them, artists depend on them, and so does the audience. There is something special in those blessed checkered tiles, and T and H are extracting each inch of talent out of them. Chicagoans reading, I hope you “DM for address” soon.

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