The show is a colorful whirl of precise graphic drawings, and maybe it’s my deep aversion to trendy shapes and colors, but these works feel too commercial.
I remember an artist's talk in Junction, sitting in the back, loosening my belt from lunch, and seeing the guy next the me without his shoes on - it was James Surls.
Shouting at the gate attracted the attention of the artists Heath West and Michael Bhichitkul, who cranked open the portcullis and let me in.
Two artists collaboate on a two-layer cake of significance, ripe for icing.
Japan was in full-blown post-nuclear Godzilla mode during these years, and while Motonaga is more subtle than that, these paintings aren’t sweet.
I asked Robert Earl Keen why he loves the movie. He immediately cited its understatement. “So much is left to the audience’s imagination. It allows one to feel like a participant.”
Whether the work is silent or screaming, it is clear that co-curators Max Fields and Joe Joe Orangias want us to engage with performance from women.
Through this snapshot of his oeuvre to date, Falsetta’s trajectory feels much like his paintings: a mixture of planned and spontaneous moves.
Artist Jeff Weiss doesn’t want you on his list for Weisslink, the “nightly art / email mashup” that he’s sent out every night for the past thirteen years to a steadily growing legion of subscribers.
Walking through the show is a distinctive physical experience. One has to move around treacherous-looking sculpture and be buzzed out by the odd and inescapable lighting.
It was those congenial moments between near strangers that intensified the scope of our small, yet potent symposium here in the middle of the Plains.
Signals is an interactive video installation where you send messages to the artist via Morse code. I was tempted to just call him.
When I joined the faculty at Texas Tech in 2001 as a tenure-track professor, the idea of merging my studio art, which consisted of paintings of daisies and powder boxes on colorful backgrounds, with the word research taunted me.
A quirky set of domestic snapshots blotted out with Jello, goo, fat, or baby teeth. These tactile, psychological fillers could merely be humorous play, but tend to read as potentially profound and personal.
Storm has a distinct visual language with which he interprets his misery. His sense of ironic martyrdom helps things along.
The daughter of a Chinese mother and a Russian-Irish father, Datchuk has faced the complexities of otherness for her entire life.
Full of painterly witticisms, Kerl's work demonstrates the hallmarks of good painting: an acknowledgement of its history and a formal playfulness.
Sortor becomes a producer of meaning instead of just a passive consumer. Her work here shows the pleasure of improvisation.
Tomlinson carries a notebook with him at all times to capture the “cognitive dandruff” and “exfoliations” of his mind, a humble and lyrical way of describing the permutations of an active and prolific thinker.
After the closing of so many art spaces in Austin in the last couple of years, perhaps it’s a sign of health that shows like Tennison’s can exist at a place like ATM.