The exhibit was gratefully, blindingly, direct and free of pretense.
Abel Azcona's Utero was far and away the most powerful piece I saw, but parts of it should not have happened.
One can’t help but think about the lives beneath the story and between the shots, and marvel at what must have been a sort of filmmaking Lord Of The Flies situation in the backyards of Gulfport throughout the 80s.
There is nothing old hat about going to the Bible for source material. Certainly not the way Paul Bryan uses it.
It’s akin to that moment in a sceney restaurant when you hear the fifth song that is also on your iPad and you realize…oh, they’re marketing to me.
This iconic and storied Houston art space ain’t going out without a bang.
An internal dialogue between the values Grant believes she's supposed to uphold and the internal thoughts that may or may not contradict them. The viewer is just listening in.
I rolled into Dallas on Saturday, just as many of the city's project spaces and galleries had their openings. It was also the beginning of the Dallas Biennial or DB14.
I'm using my Glasstire soapbox to jumpstart the discussion by putting a few on the table ahead of time.
Bianconi entered a black duct-taped box. The box started jerking, being punched or kicked from the inside. Crisply folded white paper airplanes launched from within began peppering the wine-plied room.
Lacoste, LeTigre and Louis Vuitton are his imaginary friends in the Hundred Acre Wood.
Who are these people? Where do they come from? What are they hoping to get? Videographer and animator Albert Sosa finds out in his new video series on artworld interns.
Yes, this is LITERALLY the 600-year-old butt song from hell.
Seek out these strange and wonderful paintings of a fleeting, uneasy world that embodies a darker side of our state identity.
Hawk was lying, facedown, on the concrete floor in a pool of clear fluid as if he had passed out on the sidewalk in front of a club, or fallen off his skateboard. Barefoot, he was Everyman, from Brooklyn.
A porthole through which we experience Bontecou’s preoccupation with disaster and instability, on the blade-thin line between attraction and revulsion.
Peppered with mischief, Sieben's skateboard ramp, clubhouse, and campfire pit explore the brink of childhood, when adolescents begin exploring a bigger, adventurous subculture.
Media art (now “new media art”), including Anker’s, is evidence that modernism never died, it just plodded along, unnoticed during the Epoch of Irony that was postmodernism.
I am impatient to feel awe in my home city. Dallas ain’t Rome—the grammatically troubled understatement of all understatements.
Critic Dave Hickey begins by dissing Glasstire, Texas, Houston, stupid liberals, and Rice University, then goes on to the futility of the NEA and alternative art institutions.