MICHAEL MCFADDEN

In 1978, around 4,000 LGBTQIA+ Houstonians convened at the Astro Arena. 

When an artist allows it, their practice can become all-encompassing, blurring the lines between practice, spirit, and the world around them.

People often consider abstraction to be the absence of content, the erasure of reference.

Houston is a city with many identities, from Screwston, an homage to DJ Screw, and Bayou City to the simplicity of H-Town or the more commercial Energy Capital of the World. Space City, though, is more than a nickname; it speaks to a rich history of innovation and exploration entwining the city with NASA.

There’s an old adage about how those who don’t remember history are doomed to repeat it, but histories are constructed through the perspective of those in power.

Pollution is a constant presence in places like Houston, one that sinks into the background of our everyday lives becoming all too tolerable until we receive severe reminders of the impact.

Change always comes at a cost, and more often than people realize, it is a human cost.

If you’ve ever visited an exhibition and wondered how an artist pulled something off, chances are good a preparator had something to do with it.

Critical geography focuses in on oppressive, inequitable power relations in different areas.

For 75 years, the Contemporary Art Museum Houston (CAMH) has sought to engage its community in a dialogue that stems from its inaugural exhibition: This Is Contemporary Art (1948).