Perhaps only a city that grew up around a stockyard could appreciate the art of Ivan Albright, now 67. And last week there it all was, 60 works in Chicago's Art Institute, in a fantasia of wattles, dewlaps and varicose veins, the lifetime work of Chicago's painter laureate. It is an exhibition for strong stomachs. Limbs were blotched and misshapen, rolls of flesh sagged swollen and pocked. In the background of the paintings were tumbles of battered objects, microscopically detailed, and all in ripe decay. Presiding over this exhumation was the master himself, smooth jowled, red cheeked and full...
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