City Reflections: Contemporary Art from Texas

The verso side of a video installation; wooden armature for a mobile wall reaches more than halfway to the ceiling, and is propped up by long wooden boards and sandbags.

Rear view of Eileen Maxson’s “Parent Trap,” on view at Keisers Koning

I hop on the bus to get to the Dallas Contemporary Gala after-party. The bus is late, and passes me at the stop, before screeching to a halt once it crosses the intersection. “I’m sorry about that,” the driver says to me. Maybe she didn’t see me because it was night, and I’m wearing head-to-toe dark, autumnal mauve and sharp Korean-style black dress shoes. I’m carrying my Canon with me, which is also hard to register in the dark of night.

I take the bus downtown, because I have already paid for a day pass in order to study at the library downtown, and then return home for more audio editing in the afternoon. Day passes with DART last until midnight, so I can take the bus downtown and then catch a cheap Uber to the Contemporary. Unfortunately, there aren’t any viable bus routes to DC on the Dallas bus system; there’s always a twenty-minute trek along a main road with no sidewalks. Public transit requires triple the time of simply taking a car, but in many cases I almost prefer it because I have books to read. In September, I have read Virtue Hoarders by Catherine Liu and listened to an audiobook of Eilene Zimmerman’s Smacked. Liu writes about post-industrial capitalism, among other things, and claims that a management class has positioned itself between the ruling classes and working classes in order to hedge itself against the market forces that make the rich richer and the poor poorer. In Zimmerman’s book, the author recounts her life through the lens of her marriage, which begins in earnest and degenerates due to her former husband’s professional aspirations, as well as his descent into addiction. Liu describes why labor power is degraded, and Zimmerman gives detailed anecdotal evidence of her life in freelance journalism while her life partner booms and busts in the world of high-powered litigation. 

Much of my reading of these texts happened on the bus or the train. I’ve tried to intellectualize why I like it, but I find that to be somewhat futile to explain. I simply enjoy reading more than driving. The caveat being that these mediums of literary distribution rely on mobility. I get my audiobooks from the library and listen to them in miniscule, wireless headphones. Liu’s book is small, like plenty of short-format readers published by university presses (Oxford University Press has an excellent series of A Very Short Introduction readers in hundreds of subjects). 

What I appreciate about Liu’s book is its clear framework for understanding how the value of labor fluctuates depending on one’s position within the professional management hierarchy. In contrast, Zimmerman’s book offers a more grounded, real-world perspective on what “success” and “employment” truly look like. Both authors touch on the concept of exceptionalism in culture, which, in many ways, is defined by one’s proximity to those willing to invest in or compensate them. In the art world, this often means navigating a network of individuals orbiting around capital.

My inclination is to write about art that reflects the dynamics of cosmopolitanism, or the experience of being an urban dweller. However, this proves challenging for two reasons: first, I encounter few artists engaging directly with their position within the broader social fabric; and second, my interest in public transit goes beyond the subject itself. Instead, I want to explore how transit expands one’s understanding of place. Riding a train frees us from the focus required for driving and allows us to redirect that attention toward our surroundings, or the people we share the space with.

With this in mind, I’d like to examine several artworks recently on view through the lens of metropolitanism. We will consider how these works engage with themes of urban living, and whether they speak to the intersections of public space, shared environments, and the pluralities of city life.

A printed reproduction of an architectural drawing retrieved from the Bay of Vesuvius

Excavation Plan of the Villa of the Papyri (reproduction)

The architectural plan of the Villa of the Papyri, displayed at The Legacy of Vesuvius: Bourbon Discoveries on the Bay of Naples at the Meadows Museum in Dallas, maps one of the grandest villas in Herculaneum, buried under volcanic ash in AD 79. The plan is significant not only as a testament to ancient Roman engineering but also as a cultural symbol of the intellectual life housed within the villa, including a library of papyrus scrolls, some of which have been partially recovered and deciphered. The villa’s layout includes luxurious gardens, intricate baths, and large peristyles, reflecting the Roman elite’s relationship to leisure, knowledge, and domestic architecture.

In terms of urbanism and metropolitanism, this plan offers insights into the lives of the wealthy in ancient urban centers and how such lives were integrated into the broader spatial, cultural, and intellectual networks of the Roman Empire. The recovery of objects like bisque porcelain sculptures ties the ancient artifacts to modern narratives of excavation and preservation, highlighting how urban centers layer their histories with relics of the past. This also subtly speaks to how modern cities manage their own cultural patrimony, balancing development with preservation.

A painting of two runners; one is standing out of the frame, and the other is folded forward in a long stretch.

Jason Dann, “Two Runners,” oil and charcoal on canvas, 36 x 24 inches

Jason Dann’s Two Runners captures a moment of rest or exercise, blending urban and suburban visual cues through the pairing of athletic shoes and a checkered pattern that suggests either a picnic blanket or a distorted urban grid. The reclining figure may imply a moment of respite in a park, and the running shoes of the standing figure suggest the routines and regimens of modern life. In terms of metropolitanism, the image reflects a contemporary tension between physicality and the artificial environments in which we live.

The rendering of grass and open space may evoke urban parklands, which are vital but contested public spaces in cities, shaped by the push and pull of development and natural preservation. If we extend the conversation to public transit networks, this work doesn’t directly reference them but evokes the rhythms of city life, where movement (running) and rest (stretching) mirror the urban commuter’s journey.

A paintings of a young man laying down with the sun shining from above

Jason Dann, “By The Windowsill,” oil and mixed media on canvas, 36 x 24 inches

While Dann’s By The Windowsill is more intimate, the hotel context invites us to consider how individuals live within cities: in rented spaces, temporarily inhabiting locations, and pausing between journeys. The windowsill might serve as a metaphorical threshold, separating the interior world of personal reflection from the bustling exterior world of the city.

A three-channel video in which three flatscreen TV monitors are hung horizontally adjacent to each other, depicting a scene at the table with the artist sitting between her parents on either side of her.

Eileen Maxson, “Parent Trap,” three-channel video

Eileen Maxson’s three-channel video installation addresses the complexities of contemporary American politics through an intergenerational lens, with her parents being both subjects and commentators. This work taps into a critique of the performative nature of political discourse, especially within a polarized two-party system that often feels like a manufactured spectacle.

In terms of urbanism and metropolitanism, Maxson’s work doesn’t directly engage with the city but reflects the larger cultural and social divides that manifest in urban settings. Public transit networks, symbolic of shared public space and collective action, contrast with the individual, often isolated nature of political opinion-making shown in this video. The metaphor of a “false wall” installed in the gallery reflects the barriers between the personal and political realms, underscoring how political action can feel disconnected from reality.

The setup of the gallery as a nearly empty space, focusing attention solely on the video screens, speaks to the minimalist nature of political engagement that can exist in insulated bubbles — be it urban, suburban, or rural. Maxson’s interrogation of her parents’ political views thus serves as a microcosm of the broader national dialogue, framed within an art space that is simultaneously a site for public and private engagement.

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William Sarradet is the Assistant Editor for Glasstire

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