Notes on the Dallas Art Scene
Dallas is a mythical concept. It is America in ways that New York, Chicago or Los Angeles are no longer. It is further from convention, and wrapped within its locality and character in a manner that causes other cities to seem timid in their skins. Dallas embodies its country’s most dynamic hallmarks—economic growth, technological advancement and unceasing civic development—while remaining refreshingly unshackled from predictable European aestheticism. If America is the engine of the new world, so is Dallas the diamond tip of that machinery. There is a boldness of thought for what can be done, and a vastness to the scope of possibility that seems a reflection of the towering Texan landscape it is built on. These aspects both set Dallas within, and off-kilter from, the rest of the United States. It has a shimmering sense of frontier-ship and unabashed grandeur, of alternative logic and audacity that are its own.
These ideals are reflected in the merging of art and sport at the AT&T stadium, where enormous crowds are introduced to ambitious contemporary art commissions. It is heartening to consider those who might be inspired for whom exposure to art may not otherwise easily occur. Similarly, Northpark Center, a grand shopping mall, houses pieces from the collection of its founder, Raymond D. Nasher, so that the work of Andy Warhol, James Rosenquist, Jim Dine and others are set within the retail experience of over 26 million annual visitors. It is an act of display marvelously disquieting to staid tropes of where we expect to encounter art.
Within the art scene itself, venues include The Power Station, which was once what the name suggests and presents exhibitions that often respond to its impressive industrial architecture; that exquisite, secret garden of text-based innovation, The Reading Room; the minimalist stylings of The Box Company, a pristine, white cube within a larger, dirtier one; Beefhaus, a gritty artist-led initiative; and the Wilcox Space, which is one of the quietest, most reverential rooms dedicated to art anywhere, in this case that of late Texan painter, John Wilcox. Institutions include the Nasher Sculpture Center, The Mac, and the Dallas Museum of Art, along with commercial stalwarts, Conduit ,Talley Dunn, Liliana Bloch, and Barry Whistler galleries.
Some spaces however, list toward the city’s brasher elements of showy excess and glitzy consumerism. It’s an addictive tendency that impacts artistic efficacy and perhaps accounts for the common complaint that Dallas isn’t taken as seriously as it might be, or that political or stereotypical attitudes about Texas on the West and East Coasts limit perceptions of what is happening here.
The Warehouse, for example, is home to works from the collections of Howard Rachofsky and Vernon Faulconer. While the compound is a staggering achievement, its educational program is dismaying. A recent tour of the Warehouse became a demoralizing exercise in institutional paranoia. It began with an interminable lecture on what was not permitted while on the premises, before our guide corralled and worried the group through the building, indicating precisely when and how we should look at or even think about the work. The implication was that the objects were far more valuable than our experience of them, and that it was our immense privilege to be there. It could have been a conducive experience had the educator approached the visitors from the opposite sentiment, or as potential emissaries for the foundation’s aims after they had left. The Warehouse is a great asset to Dallas, but one’s engagement with it, ought not to be subjugated beneath the brilliance of its material horde.
Dallas Contemporary states an intention to present “new and challenging ideas”. While it occasionally presses salient issues—”Black Sheep Feminism: The Art of Sexual Politics” (2016) seems even more pertinent today—the glut of recent, moribund exhibitions is deeply concerning. These range from “Burry“ (2016), by fashion designer Helmut Lang, whose black and gold, screened opulences are no more than sinister extensions of a howling ego, to “Ma’am“ (2016) which subjected its audience to the vapid musings of Paola Pivi. Her facile, expensive trifles included large, brightly colored, furry bears; spinning, feathered wheels; a muskox sunk into a pile of coffee beans; and an upside-down fighter jet. The work hopscotched from Duchamp to Rauschenberg, with no more gravitas than a toy store clearance sale. The grandiose contrivances behind Pedro Reyes onerous, stone sentinels in “For Future Reference“ (2016) claimed an authority befitting the antiquity of Easter Island’s moai. They were “not dissimilar in function to an oracle or Magic 8 Ball—predicting futures and answering both life’s most elusive and banal questions.” If that is so we need them to run for office, instead of idling in a gallery. Even a pleasant show by Ross Bleckner (2017) doesn’t heal the sensorial trauma of Dan Colen’s “Oil Painting“ (2016), a dithering, three-part exhibition consisting of chewing gum constructs, Disney-esque paintings of explosive glitter, and literally, and without irony, combines made from garbage.
The wall texts that accompanied photographer Bruce Weber’s “Far From Home“ (2016/17), contained stories of fame and luxury with a dangerously high sugar content. Images of stunning models, fading aristocrats, and exotic shores might induce fantasies of such lives, but the pages of magazines are a more appropriate showcase, not the city’s foremost contemporary space. Nor are they new or challenging pictorial expressions. They are indulgent lifestyle pornography. Bowing to desultory efforts by trendy artists and the fashion world’s bloviated titans doesn’t seed local talent or help to position Dallas as an incisive and relevant commentator.
Despite sensitive projects such as, “Giuseppe Penone: Being the River, Repeating the Forest“ (2016), “First Sculpture: Handaxe to Figure Stone” (2018), and its wonderful series of lectures, even the stellar Nasher Sculpture Center too often recycles the husks of redundant names. Foremost among them is Richard Serra. Along with one of his tyrannical carcasses lowering in the sculpture garden, 2017 saw “Richard Serra: Prints“ and the concurrent, Serra-inspired “Foundations” series installation. The press release sighed that “critical thinking is crucial to his process”. But this is surely the case for any serious artist, and for rethinking press release cliches. Considering that Fort Worth must contend with the harassment of Serra’s rusting, mechanical phallus permanently menacing the skies above its modern art museum, the critically-bankrupt global industry of retrospectives and exhibitions roiling about him, and the ample public holdings of his output nationally, The Nasher could be daring, and look across the street to the Dallas Museum of Art. There, likely unwittingly, is an exquisite response to the suffocating ubiquity of Serra’s work; its removal. Only a few marks on the ground remain to toast such restorative absence. That prominent DMA location could now be offered to less canonical choices.
The Nasher’s “Sightings” series, hosted in the downstairs gallery, doesn’t often thrill. Michael Dean’s (2016/17) concrete totems were described as “beings”, but the objects did not, as the Nasher claimed, “project an extraordinary humanity”. The twisted, alphabetized chunks were redolent of a torn up parking lot and read as mute syllabary, unaware of what they were supposed to be saying. Similarly turgid, were the store-front figures developed from Mai-Thu Perret’s (2016) imagined art-feminist commune, “The Crystal Frontier” whose members “live” in the New Mexican desert. Their lifelessness denied these pseudo-militaristic mannequins the bravery or strength that the artist presumably admires in her real-world inspirations; groups such as YPJ, fighting and protecting, in the Middle East. Their very imaginariness strips them of any potency. Despite these missteps the Sightings initiative could be reformatted to support compelling international artists and rising Texans. San Antonio’s Artpace, which insists on each iteration including a state, a national and an international resident, is a solid example of such connective thinking.
Finally, the new Nasher Prize, seems a cynical apparatus for the museums’s status rather than authentic acknowledgment of worthy achievements. It bestows glittering accolades, and money on accomplished and famous artists—Doris Salcedo (2016), Pierre Huyghe (2017), Theaster Gates (2018)—who require the support far less than countless artists of sparer means but, given the chance, equal import. If the Contemporary, and the Nasher more often risked getting out in front of history, instead of meekly regurgitating its chiseled names, then how immense and meaningful their contributions could be as leaders.
In terms of critical writing, Dallas requires more vigorous exchange to exorcise curatorial sloth and redundancy in artists’ and institutional practices. There is a comfortability with primary-colored simplicity, middling painterliness and sleepy conceptuality, and while decoratively appealing, these directives don’t link Dallas to meaningful discourse or necessary experimentation. Glasstire, the principle publication, can seem trepidatious, stymied perhaps by having to be everything to everyone. It must be taxing for one title to be the city’s only critical platform, both midwife and mortician. One senses the struggle in its pages. Dallas has plentiful, generalized arts coverage but it tends to praise overtly rather than seriously contemplate. There are dextrous, razor-sharp writers in Dallas, Caleb Mathern among them. Perceptiveness and humor such as his are qualities to be fomented and utilized.
The city is home to, or represents, fascinating artists whose careers could, with support, alter the bathymetric perception of what is happening here. Jeff Gibbons’ eye for the nuances of emotional damage is lightened by his wit, imbuing quotidian items with heartbreaking depth, whether a a fifties diner-waitress gingham dress, with “Jeff” italicized on the name tag, or a hanging punch-bag, clothed in the artist’s jeans, belt and shoes, feebly waiting to take whatever the world has to throw at it. His work’s forlornness brings a wicked breath of despair to the brightest countenance. For his solo show “Clown Ambulance” (2016) at Conduit Gallery, he imbued discarded things with high-romanticism, mirth and a macabre sensibility. A video of an aged, electric, reclining chair repeatedly trying to throw off its burdensome cushions, was exemplary. Sarah Williams’ paintings, “Area Codes” (2016) at Talley Dunn, of rural homes set against dark foliage, sumptuously gloomy skies, and warmed by the nostalgic glow of decorative Christmas lights are cheerfully uncomfortable. They blend longing for simpler pasts with unease at human absence and its implications of foreboding or isolationism. And Cassandra Emswiler Burd’s show at Erin Cluley Gallery “Flowers of War” (2015) employed the tiled surface of a farmhouse kitchen table to corroborate parallels between the seemingly oppositional pursuits of garden design and war planning.
Dallas has an eager and absorbing cultural fabric, municipal vitality and preponderous wealth. There is hard-won creative momentum and the spaces to initiate it through a committed network of local artists and a loyal structure of dealers and collectors. But until art workers of all types decide that they want to address fundamental issues and engage robustly in celebrating the unique traits of the region’s characteristics within self-scrutiny, and outward vision, it will not become the nexus of artistic analysis and production that it could be. Dallas has all that it needs to achieve this, but it doesn’t need all that it has.
Darren Jones is an art critic and artist, from Scotland, based in the United States.
Volume 32 no 3 Jan/Feb 2018 pp 21- 23
27 thoughts on “Notes on the Dallas Art Scene”
So there isn’t just Cornwall in the New Art Examiner art coverage!
As you say, “Dallas has all that it needs to achieve this, but it doesn’t need all that it has.” Let’s hope that people from Dallas can take your advice.
Next we’ll being hearing about the Dallas World of Sports Art Movement, only slightly sonsored by AT&T and freshly worked out at the AT&T stadium. What a merger!
What are people’s reactions to art on display while shopping at the Northpark Center mall or while attending a sports event at the AT&T Stadium?
It was quite interesting to read about so many art spaces in Dallas all in one article. The Dallas Cowboys art collection at the AT&T Stadium makes its contribution to the art scene by helping thousands of people who would not normally visiit an art museum or gallery in their lives to connect to the art world.
Making art accessible and not just for the elite is like it once was in Sicily, where even fishermen living in one room houses felt the need to have painitings, not reproductions, on their walls.
Do you know if anything similar is being done anywhere else?
You’re a bit pompous with the “even fishermen living in one room houses felt the need to have paintings”. Do you think that collecting art is a privilege only for the cultured upper classes? This is what the collection at the AT&T Stadium is all about, giving art back to the people so that they can learn to appreciate it once again, not enclosing it in cages as though in a zoo (museum). Fishermen, like builders, bankers, doctors, all have souls that can be touched by a work of art.
Pompous Rossi, do you work for AT&T?
What an impressive article; so much seems to be going on in Dallas regarding the art world. I’ll be going there soon to visit and find Darren Jones’ coverage very helpful.
Thank you Susan, do enjoy your visit.
It seems like everyone possible to mention in Dallas was mentioned here in the article, but what about the Holly Johnson Gallery? They are doing a lovely job with David Aylsworth’s “Wherefore & Hence”.
Dallas, you have to see this.
You may have your art and sport at the AT&T stadium and Northpark Center mall with its displays of modernist works, but Chicago will soon have it over Dallas with its Art on the Mart, the largest permanent installation in the world. It will be a 2 1/2 acre canvas on the front wall of the Merchandise Mart with “no advertising, no commercial, nothing. Just pure art.”.
See the Chicago Tribune article for more complete information:
They still need the approval of the Chicago City Council, but I learned it would be funded by the owner of the Merchandise Mart, Vornado Realty Trust, at a cost of $8 million.
Even more interesting is the cost of the guided tour of the artworks at the AT&T Stadium, one hour at $26. To visit the MoMA in New York is $25, $1 cheaper, but without the guide and without the time limit.
What a sharp contrast to the art collection of the Northpark Center mall for free that includes: Andy Warhol, Frank Stella, Joel Shapiro, Jim Dine, Jonathan Borofsky, James Rosenquist, Antony Gormley, Barry Flanagan and Beverly Pepper, among others. In this case it must be the stores sponsoring the art, while in the case of sports at the AT&T Stadium, it doesn’t appear that the sports sponsor the art.
Additional note: the Dallas Museum of Art’s general admission is free to the public, though special exhibitions are $16 – a far cry from the $26 they ask for admission to see the artworks at the AT&T Stadium.
What a fascinating read; I look forward to your next article, hopefully in the March/April edition of New Art Examiner.
With offices already in Washington DC, Chicago and Cornwall, has the New Art Examiner considered opening one in Dallas?
Being very involved in the Dallas art scene and also a strong supporter of the work done by New Art Examiner, I think it would be an excellent move and help the artists and galleries of the south to be better covered not only nationally, but also internationally.
I loved your description of your tour of the Warehouse with the ” interminable lecture on what was not permitted while on the premises.”
The AT&T Stadium in Dallas isn’t the only stadium to have its art collection; there is also the U.S. Bank Stadium in Minneapolis with more than 350 paintings, sculptures and drawings and the Levi Stadium art collection in San Francisco. It’s an interesting trend that opens up huge exhibition spaces to a large audience, though I don’t know how interested the people attending sports events are in looking at the artwork.
Going a step further from the AT&T Stadium art collection in Dallas where sports and art are united, I’d like you to see how high speed train travel and art are combined in Japan. It’s quite an interesting venue for art exhibitions, inside and outside the bullet train. While, at the same time, National Rail Service in France is ” covering the inside of one of its trains with impressionist art through a film that plays on the ceiling of its cars.” 3M and the Musée d’Orsay are part of this project. I think bringing art to people, be it in sports events or while traveling are important ways of helping people approach art.
I think you forgot to mention the combination of art and fashion as they have done at the Northpark Center Mall in Dallas, but also interestingly in Beirut where the Aishti Foundation opened in a shopping mall on the coast just outside the city. The Aishti shopping mall has amazing exhibitions of artwork from around the world in a sort of museum on four floors, not really integrated into the shopping experience. Most of the artwork comes from the collection of the founders, Tony and Elham Salamé.
Hong Kong and Shanghai do it better!
We’ve got the k11 shopping malls with the ” First Museum Retail in the world”. Back in 2009 the first k11 opened in Hong Kong, then in 2013 in Shanghai. Adrian Cheng, the founder, “believes that art is for the mass and he successfully merges this with commerce and created a sustainable “art x commerce” K11 business model, creating a museum retail concept”. http://news.k11.com/2018/about.php
There’s a new exhibition of Laura Owens opening at the Dallas Museum of Art! I wonder what the New Art Examiner thinks of her work.
The opinions of the reviewers are their own, not the magazines. We publish what is interesting and as far as possible keep our own taste out of our choices.
The Dallas Museum of Art has a bit of a sneaky approach to getting paid tickets for the Owen show:
“As a way to introduce this influential American painter to a wider audience, DMA visitors will be able to see some of the exhibition for free.” What is this a teaser, like a film trailer, so that visitors will pay the ticket to see the full exhibition?
Here’s the first review that has come out on Laura Owens at the Dallas Museum of Art:
Arnold, I cannot, as Daniel says, speak for the NEA on the Laura Owens show. But at a recent curator’s tour of it, I was witness to a miserable litany of enfeebled froth as to why this artist, who napalms the audience with laser-guided rounds of mediocrity, is important. I was compelled to interrupt that she was not important; and how dare the curator pretend otherwise in her assertion that Owens is in any way political because she had painted or printed a large rendition of the front page of a newspaper.
Laura Owens is canny in not only throwing the kitchen sink at her imagery so that something, anything, is bound to stick with most visitors, but in that she picks up the broken ceramic and keeps on flinging. She belongs to the art world’s version of the Gerridae, never having the good grace to look below the surface, but under the auspices of so many visitor-starved museums, is ubiquitous sitting there. Owens is perhaps—and there is very stiff competition—the most unimportant well-known artist working today. The audience was split in its response to my protestations; one woman strode out saying “I agree with what he is saying. It’s crap.” Another woman declared “But she is a very important artist!” My response; “only because museums like this one, tell you she is.” Do see it and decide for yourself.