Review

Deborah Roberts’ context is very much the America of our lifetimes.

Reiland's pictures of women are not so much documentary portraits as gestures of a sort of imaginative empathy, where historical facts and artistic interpretations collide.

Onifadé isn’t jumping through a department store window to get your attention. These paintings are pageants of restraint.  

These times of isolation — or at the very least, this weird and dangerous year-long disruption — has forced upon us a new awareness of space and of bodies.

Piwonka takes on the misunderstood world of maleness from a refreshingly unexpected angle.

There’s an eerie serendipity to visiting these shows during this ever-unfurling new reality.

Embarking as a motivated flaneur is the point.

“The show gave me the opportunity to look backwards and look forwards at the same time, and to think about the resonance of images, actions, and words then and now.” 

Clemons’ photographs have a hardscrabble grace about them, with a rawboned edge that is sweetened with Main Street exoticism.

Perez’s work draws from the borderlands tradition of hand-painted signage on businesses, known as rótulismo. 

Brackens participates in this cultural moment by “having bodies in repose or resting — doing anything but dying."

After the Mexican Revolution, the country’s daring female artists forged a new picture modeled after themselves and who they wanted to be.

When we find ourselves craving connection, we can find it though critical engagement with something wonderful someone has made for us.

Dan Hicks offers a passionate, unflinching critique of how the continued presence of the Benin Bronzes in British museums and national collections perpetuates the colonial violence that “acquired” them in the first place.

Holsonback’s work often pushes us to find the context for ourselves.

In this solo exhibition, Ruben Nieto mashes high art and low.

Glasstire staff and contributors share which Texas-based shows, events, and works made their personal “best” lists for this incredibly weird and worrisome year.

The exhibition calls up centuries' worth of folklore deeming noontime the most foreboding hour of the day.

If you’re into art it’s probably a safe assumption that you’re not the wimpy sort who can’t wait a few more days to behold a book.

The outlines of teeth and lips are faintly visible across the works, but Jones’s paintings remain tantalizingly amorphous, and hover between abstraction and figuration.