New York Times bestselling author of Gone Girl and Fine Arts Building tenant, Gillian Flynn, gives readers an insider's view of the iconic Chicago landmark with her foreword from Trope's upcoming title, Chicago's Fine Arts Building: Music, Magic, and Murder: 

Walk into the Fine Arts Building and you will immediately see, lettered over the doorway: “All passes—art alone endures.” It’s a phrase of encouragement, delight, wonder; and a sly prod to get to work. It urges you to avoid watching those kitten videos on YouTube today. It gives you the courage, and the pride, to create. It’s the reason I walked in and immediately thought: I must work here. This is my place.

 

The Fine Arts Building has a fine view of Lake Michigan to the east, and an equally fine view from virtually anywhere within. It is designed to invoke wonder. Everywhere you turn, there is art. Venture to the top floor and breathe in life both current and antique, then take the stairs down and down. Run your hands over worn railings and imagine the hundreds of other hands, over decades and decades, that have trailed them. Let the building haunt you; it’s a place where you can feel the energy of the past. You can envision eager flappers from the 1920s, perfecting the Charleston in hopes of dazzling on the stage. You can imagine musicians, zazzing on their trumpets, eager to entertain Sinatra’s toddlin’ town. You can almost hear novelists tapping away at their Underwoods with visions of setting literary America ablaze. Grab these artists’ energy: you’ll feel the power of thousands of dreams and plans and toilings (because despite what some think, creation requires not just a benevolent muse but also pure grit).

 

Look around: everywhere there are details to delight the eye. Ride the elevators that clank up and down, fronted with glass so you can see each level pass by. But also look at the intricate curlicue ironwork that frames the elevators and the still-working, still-beautiful clocks above them that remind you time is moving by: go, go, go! Examine the sconces on the walls, the curve of the steps; even the doors to each office. This building was made at a time when people sincerely valued beauty.

 

But despite its inherent grace, the Fine Arts Building is most alive with the murmur (and sometimes bellow) of art. Walk about and you’ll hear trombones down one hallway; an opera company down another. A singer trills her scales from a corner office; keen readers discuss novels in the second-floor bookstore; actors rush to enliven the ground-floor Studebaker stage. The bursts of beautiful noise create no cacophony, I swear. They are a reassuring sound, even to a writer tussling with her next novel: they remind me that I am lucky to create for a living. The ambient noise both lightens and anchors the Fine Arts Building. You know that here, ideas and beauty take flight; and you are reminded that creation demands practice and sacrifice and courage and a strong, sturdy (stubborn) spine.

 

You are also urged to join us: everywhere are invitations to partake. Learn to sing! Buy a violin! Take a photo! The sign that entices me the most is for Adult Tap Dancing. I’ll let you know if I ever dare—highly improbable, yet in this building the idea of a gangly writer performing a cramp roll seems nearly viable.

 

In short: you can’t leave the Fine Arts Building without being lifted, thrilled, hopeful, and welcome, whether you make art or receive it. If you are the latter, thank you, because all good artists know we are at the mercy of those kind enough to be our audience. This is your place, too.

 

Come visit.

Chicago's Fine Arts Building is available for pre-order and will be in stores June 2025. Pre-order your copy here.