If you’re standing inside the Art Institute of Chicago, a trip to the Impressionist galleries usually involves climbing a grand staircase and wandering through the quiet, sunlit rooms upstairs. An entirely different route is available to anyone willing to push the Ferris Bueller-style date a little further. Take the Blue Line to O’Hare, hop on a plane to Tokyo, ride the Shinkansen bullet train to Osaka and get off at Namba Station, where you’ll find yourself standing in what feels like the Osaka subway wing of the Art Institute of Chicago.
Located at the transportation hub of the underground Namba Walk, a subway network not unlike Chicago’s Pedway, this space serves as a permanent cultural bridge between the two sister cities. Founded in 1994, the gallery is re-installing 60 ceramic tiles of Impressionist art drawn directly from the Art Institute’s collection. You wouldn’t guess their age looking at the walls today. Many tiles are as bold and vibrant as the original works. Japanese company Otsuka Ohmi Ceramics worked closely together to recreate these pieces, using a special hot firing process to produce an indestructible masterpiece designed for the daily rush of commuters. The sheer volume of installation is amazing. Spread over a kilometer, the works are divided between the first 5 pieces in News Park and the 55 west in Art Park. Finding them all requires the kind of deliberate afternoon effort you’d devote on a rainy day to a traditional museum. You could easily spend hours down here wandering around like Ferris Bueller, getting lost among the world-class art while millions of people walk past you.
Chicago and Osaka share a deep second city perspective, although the moniker has a different history to each other. In Chicago, the title represents a literal rebirth from the ashes of the Great Fire of 1871, highlighting the legacy of grit and architectural renewal. For Osaka, it’s a cultural pride built in defiance of Tokyo’s dominance. Each city has an unmistakable character; their larger, more popular counterparts feel sterile in comparison. This localized pride is reflected in distinct dialects. The witty, witty Osaka flourishes contrast beautifully with the flat accented vowels of the classic Chicago brogue. Second City comedy was born in the Midwest, yet punchlines arrived at the same time in the Pacific.
The accompanying map goes straight to the food scene, where locals champion comfort food, comfort food over soft presentation. Osaka is very proud of its delicious okonomiyaki pancakes, a dish born out of post-war shortages where residents had to mix whatever ingredients they could find into a simple batter. This perfectly illustrates Chicago’s devotion to deep-dish pizza, a giant, filling creation that emerged as a cheap, hearty way to feed hungry immigrant communities stretching their dollars to the limit. Both foods started out of sheer necessity and simplicity, yet evolved into incredibly proud cultural staples. There is a raw, unpretentious hospitality that runs through these cooking places. You can hear the legendary Billy Goat Tavern’s “cheezeborger, cheezeborger” echoing with the same energy as the passionate shouts of “Maido!,” an Osaka bartender’s greeting wailing from a neon-lit izakaya. These are cities that contain a lot of personality and a crowded world that is often tied to deep local shorthand. We put on a good face for tourists, yet there is a deep language only a local can truly understand. Flash a finger gun at a passerby in Osaka, and the unwritten comedy code dictates that they should pretend to be shot. In Chicago, the same unspoken understanding rules the streets with the hallowed tradition of “dibs,” where the absolute, unquestioned authority of a rusty folding chair keeps a parking space shoveled in winter.
This shared local loyalty extends completely to their sporting suffering. Both cities boast passionate baseball fans who have long been plagued by strange hexes. The Chicago Cubs suffered the curse of the Billy Goat after the pet was banned from Wrigley Field in 1945, while the Hanshin Tigers endured the Colonel’s Curse after fans threw a statue of Colonel Sanders into the Dotonbori River to celebrate the 1985 championship. Both loyal fans faced generations of grief before finally breaking their curses, with the Cubs winning the 2016 World Series and the Tigers capturing the 2023 Japan Series.
This municipal connection extends to the surface roads. Midosuji Boulevard serves as Osaka’s Magnificent Mile, a parallel so remarkable that the two streets are officially designated as sister streets. They serve as high-end retail meccas sharing international mainstays such as Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Apple. Each maintains a separate, hyper-local anchor. Michigan Avenue relies on the intoxicating smell of Garrett Popcorn to keep it going, while Midosuji Boulevard eventually succumbs to the amazing, multi-story retail chaos of Don Quijote before feeding pedestrians directly onto the underground Namba Walk.
Right next to these shopping areas, the waterways of both cities tell the story of human engineering. The Chicago Riverwalk passes through a wide, impressive canyon of tall buildings, defined by history, the industrial work of reversing the flow of the river. The Dotonbori River canal in Osaka provides a vibrant, neon-drenched tunnel meant for sensory overload and flamboyant excess. Despite their different aesthetics, both rivers use architectural cruises to showcase industrial history, proving that the central arteries of a working city can be repurposed into highly functional public spaces.
The deep bond between the two cities goes back to the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, a major event that put Chicago on the international map. Japan presented the Phoenix Pavilion to the exhibition, a historic wooden structure built on Wooded Island in Jackson Park. Today, that legacy lives on with the ripe cherry blossoms that frame the grounds of Osaka Garden. Chicago has planted more flowering trees in the park in recent years, ensuring that colorful trees bloom directly in the shadow of the much-anticipated, newly erected Obama Presidential Center. This real combination of history and modern development strengthens the sister city bond, creating a main point of reflection for future tourists.
If Ferris Bueller had extended his famous day across the Pacific, he would have found a great artistic reward waiting on the Namba subway. Because these works are built into the walls of the transport hub, the underground gallery invites you to break the fourth wall. You are completely free to walk up to the pieces. Running your fingers over the ceramic reveals a cool, heavy touch and an ever-so-slight body relief that gives the brushstrokes tangible depth. The crown jewel of this exhibit is a large, meticulously detailed production of Georges Seurat. Sunday afternoon on the island of La Grande Jatte. In the classic film, Ferris’ best friend, Cameron Frye, stands inches away from the original painting, meticulously studying the pointillistic dots until his identity seems to melt into the canvas.
Standing in the clear, brightly lit corridor of Namba Walk, you can re-enact that cinematic moment. You can get an eyeful with the right eye through ceramic fun to explore texture without the single pane of glass in the museum that separates you from the art. The surrounding transport hub is incredibly clean, safe and well maintained. Walking past these beautiful Impressionist displays while the trains whiz by in the distance requires a brief moment of mental rejuvenation. It’s not until you look up and see signs pointing to the Midosuji, Yotsubashi and Sennichimae lines instead of Chicago’s Red or Blue that you really realize you’re not wandering the lost basement of the Art Institute’s Modern Wing.
More reporting on Tsuyoshi Kizu.
