The sign outside the Northwest Houston church where the Monarch Chamber Players opened their sixth season read, “We bring the concert hall to your neighborhood.”
In a city like Houston, one vast, improvisational, and definitely plural, artists often find their footing not through institutions, but through the communities that rise between them.
“I'm sort of a frustrated writer, in a sense,” Candace Hicks tells me over Zoom. “And so, making artist books is a way of self-publishing. It’s also a way of making things permanent.”
As an artist, curator, and cultural leader, Lauren Saba looks back at ten years of her gallery and feels a certain sense of satisfaction, knowing that she always trusted her intuition.
It’s 1992 at Glasgow School of Art. A seven-foot-by-six-foot painting that portrays a thick, fleshy female nude, subtly snarling and sitting on a pedestal, towers above visitors to an undergraduate exhibition.
In Zalika Azim: Blood Memories (or a going to ground), the ground is never just ground; it is a witness and a griot, a surface that keeps score of what passes over it and what takes root.
Derek Charles Livingston took his place as Stages artistic director a little over a year ago, but he lost little time immersing himself in Houston life and its theater community.