The Houston Symphony’s new music director, Juraj Valčuha, acknowledged that opening the season with a requiem may strike some as “a strange idea.” But Giuseppe Verdi’s Requiem is no ordinary setting of the mass for the dead.
When the Apollo Chamber Players made its debut, grand visions of the future had nothing to do with it. The quartet, violinist Matthew Detrick recalls, had one simple goal: “to do that first concert.”
“Creative people need time to sit around and do nothing.” This perceptive quote from author Austin Kleon, a self-described “writer who draws,” is front and center on Deborah Robert’s Instagram account as I’m writing.
In 1980, two years after Teatro Dallas was founded by Cora Cardona and Jeff Hurst, only 9.9% of Dallas’s 904,078 residents ticked the newly added box for “Hispanic.”
When one of Houston’s most acclaimed poets, Deborah D.E.E.P Mouton, set out to interview the city’s most legendary dancer, Lauren Anderson, she didn’t have a fully-formed creative objective.
After a performance season filled with joyful starts, heart-breaking cancellations and casting understudies for the understudies when positive COVID tests rolled in, Texas theater companies have endured much real life drama to make the leap back to live performances.
Just as the song was a response to the concerns of its time, the works that constitute the central exhibition of FotoFest Biennial 2022: If I Had a Hammer (Sept. 24-Nov. 6 at Silver Street and Winter Street Studios) confront the issues of our time.
For more than 20 years Dallas-based artist Charlotte Smith has reveled in experimenting with paint, and occasionally other materials, creating a signature style grounded in process-driven abstraction.
The artist has held roles as Professor and Curator at the University of Texas at Arlington for twenty-five years, and the occasion of our conversation is his retirement.