On a warm July afternoon, kites stitched from silk, paper, feathers, and salvaged plastic bags lifted into the wind over Promontory Point. Fifty artists came together for the second edition of the Up Up Kite Show, an ephemeral exhibition at the shore of Lake Michigan.

‍

The premise was simple: make a kite and bring it to the lakefront. But behind each flight was a response to a city in flux, to the threat of redevelopment, to the enduring desire for play, community, and shared air.

Promontory Point, a beloved stretch of South Side shoreline, faces a proposed multi-million dollar renovation that could close it for five years. For multidisciplinary artist Christina Sadonikov, originally from Virginia, it became a site for collaboration and collective making. Christina invited 50 artists to gather at the lakefront, each bringing a handmade kite to the site.

‍

Some artists flew delicate washi-paper constructions; others made textile sculptures, origami-inspired assemblages, or experimental chimes designed to interact with the wind. A few first-time kite makers relied on help to send their creations skyward.

‍

Hai-wen Lin came prepared. A recent graduate of SAIC’s fashion program, they arrived with a toolkit of spare parts and a practiced eye. Adjusting tails, mending frames, and lending string, Lin became the afternoon’s unofficial “kite doctor,” tending to fragile structures with precision.

‍

Around the artists, the community gathered itself. Toddlers chased drifting tails. Strangers held the line for one another. Artists passed scissors and tape down the shore. For a few hours, the lakefront turned into an aerial museum; uncurated, participatory, and alive.

‍

Lin’s practice extends beyond the act of making. Days later, in another corner of the city, they led a community kite-flying festival at Ping Tom Park. A collaboration with the Chinese American Museum of Chicago, the session brought together LGBTQ+ artists from across the Chinese American diaspora; some of whom had never made, let alone flown, a kite.

‍

The resulting works took the form of traditional red Chinese hats, wearable or airborne. The museum’s guest curator, Ji YAng, described the project as a bridge between tradition and experimentation; an opening for intergenerational dialogue. Elders recognized familiar forms and symbolism; younger participants embraced the playfulness and personal storytelling the work invited.

‍

“Even within the Chinese American community, there isn’t one voice,” Yang said. “There are many diasporas, many definitions. This kind of project allows people to speak from where they are.”

‍

This blending of material exploration and cultural reflection runs through Lin’s broader work. In Send Them Their Flowers (2024), Lin's kites honor Palestinian poppies, lilies, and the persistence of life, first flown on World Refugee Day as part of a global kite flight for Palestine.

‍

“Even the sky isn’t the same for everyone. But in the right wind, it can carry things farther than you think.”
- Hai-Wen Lin, kite artist and activist

‍

At the Up-Up Kite Show, Lin's Kite; a life size silhouette made of feathers and silk, took its first flight in the afternoon, while the community helped get it airborne.

‍

The Up Up Kite Show became a temporary constellation of stories; of community, resistance, and belonging. As the afternoon waned and the kites came down, the sky above Promontory Point opened again, its stillness a reminder of what could be lost. 

‍

From a contested shoreline in Chicago to kites in solidarity with Palestine, the event affirmed that public spaces and shared skies hold meaning far beyond the everyday.