Hills Snyder

This is the sixth installment in a series of stories published by artist Hills Snyder in conjunction with his traveling project ‘Altered States’ which opened November 2016 and is still on the move.

Fair warning: this is a stream-of-consciousness meander through the topography of Buttercup.

The sky grows so very suddenly dark. The air inside the truck seemed to be sucked out and replaced by a vacuum made of utter silence.

This is activist art of the best sort. The overall effect is one of incantation, vigil and ritual.

The abstract truth of “driving through America” has fundamentally shifted in the 14 months since I was on the road gathering photographic material for the project.

I’m going to stop right there. Please stop reading and go.

Amado's fascination with felt has been like a slow-drip I.V. as determined by his daily engagement with process—a certain amount each day is enough when it is all you do.

It’s an interesting undertaking, to set out on what you are doing without knowing what it is.

The unseen possibility lies like a snake that has swallowed a yard stick, pointing due north as would a prophecy, or the lost needle of a compass.

It’s a true paradox: objects and events get larger under indirect observation, as if memory and imagination were themselves the sixth sense.

The introduction of a new travelogue serial narrative by San Antonio artist Hills Snyder.

"I live in a world that cannot afford the luxury of progress. There are so few homes where the buffalo roam that they discontinued the nickel."

Jesse Amado calls on many forms and precedents for his current show — Pop art, Minimalism, Color Field painting, Conceptual art—as well as his recent experiences with illness and treatment.

A telling image of a young Doug sitting on the bumper of a 1941 Buick Roadmaster holding his Gibson ES175: he’s already brimming with confidence and charisma — He knew he had it.

Just two weeks ago, it was reported in the Wall Street Journal (Sunday, Jan 3 -4, p. D11), that “Text as Decor” is, as of now, passé. Not that Jeff Wheeler and Maisie Alford care.

The remains of sea urchins and lost vinyl LPs become memorials to lost signals, disappearing space probes, fading heartbeats in Dario Robleto’s installation at the Menil Collection.

Chris Sauter, like Jesus, invites you to stick your hand in a hole. His inter-related projects examine the false dichotomies between religion and science.

Hills Snyder visits Ivor Shearer's haunting real world re-shooting of The Road: "You are left with that which cannot be escaped. And it follows you out the door."

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