State of the Arts: Texas

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artist, arts, texas artist, texas music

Texas is an innovative state. It breeds originality. Perhaps because beneath that strutting cowboy persona lurks something that doesn’t quite fit in. We’re misfits. Texans, though they may hate the comparison, are really the new world French. The difference is that the French have had a millennium to hone, perfect and market their creative wares. Texas is behind by more than eight hundred years.

It is an interesting phenomenon how many creative people, no matter the area of
interest, one finds originating from Texas. Though this is by no means researched fact, I would bet my bottom dollar in saying that the Lone Star State has produced as many artists as any acknowledged state, maybe more. One may ask, “But what about New York and California?” True, there are far more exports from those two states, but their respective exports were initially an import from another place—many times Texas.

And this is the gist of my argument.

Even today, having taken the helm of advanced civilization, Texas still can’t seem to get it right with regards to nurturing its vast pool of creative souls. For to be an artist in Texas is to be an outcast. Does anyone see the irony here? But wait, it gets thicker. What am I getting at, you ask? Aren’t there plenty of great artists that call Texas home? Celebrities that the state honors with Apollonian laurels? My retort would be simply, “You are correct…but,”

These hoards of creative people had to leave the state in order to reach their potential. When, after success, they returned…of course they were greeted with open arms like the Prodigal Son. But they had to leave. That’s the point.

This seems insane given the fact that people are flocking to Austin in search of some kind of stardom, much like they have for nearly a hundred years to places like New York City, Los Angles and Nashville. But even with all its arty weirdness, the capitol city has yet to spawn a style beyond its country and western roots from the 1970s (a single exception being Texas Blues). As for the rest of the state, when it does export the arts, like say, post- Baby Boomer Texas Country, it’s weighted with mediocrity and is at best a footnote to something far better.

The reality is that Texas has never had the entertainment infrastructure to package and market its infinite talent. Why is that? Even our institutions of higher learning have little to offer. Particularly when juxtaposed with the universities of our elder siblings to the Southeast.

Having grown up in the state from a family thoroughly Texan in every regard, my conclusion is that for all our self-assuredness, Texans are blind to the arts out of lack of confidence. Someone from the outside must point to that which has merit. We need approval. The misfit prevails.

And the endless waves of invaders from the far reaches have yet to alter this truth.

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Writer’s Digest Review

Tags

Book Review, crime, Reading, Texas, Texas Author, Texas politics

The District Manager by Matt Minor starts slowly but builds to a compelling finish. Mason Dixon takes center stage in telling this tale of his gig as district manager for a Texas State Representative.  His assignment to travel the district and handle problems for his boss and his boss’s constituents puts him in the path of good folks and bad and eventually of those who surpass bad.

The plot moves slowly through the beginning chapters. Nothing much seems to be happening until late when Mason Dixon and the reader start putting pieces together to come up with a surprising (or not) conclusion. 

The narrative is skillfully constructed from firsthand knowledge to be sure. The array of characters is well developed with each having distinctive characteristics and consistent dialogue. There is something for everyone in this novel—a bit of romance, humor, nail-biting suspense, murder and mayhem and a conclusion to set us all on edge in this political season. 

The one typo that caught my eye was in chapter two with the use of slated that likely should have been slatted. Otherwise, the novel is free of distracting errors. Perhaps, with ebooks, the cover is less important but this one works.  The notes about the author give insight into the authenticity of the tale. This a book is surely one I would recommend to other readers.

–Judge, 4th Annual Self-Published e-Book Awards

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The Art of Orlando Reyna on display at B R Vino’s in downtown Rosenberg

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art, fort bend county, fort bend herald, local art, rosenberg, Texas, Texas art scene, texas artist

Originally published in the Fort Bend Herald July 19, 2016.

ROSENBERG –

The evening of Saturday, July 9th I popped into B R Vino in downtown Rosenberg’s Cultural District. The atmospheric wine bar doubles as an art gallery. On display was local artist Orlando Reyna.

Reyna’s art varies from multi-medium pieces to traditional canvas paintings. He has found his niche in the painting and resining of old acoustic guitars. Reyna’s palette offers the eyes a mixture of the bizarre, and dare I murmur…even the beautiful.

Reyna’s virgin offering in the guitar series is titled Lighting Strike. Imagine an eighties L.A.-style abstract fashioned in the underworld, roughed out over a macabre background of dark blues and purples. The patches of red, magenta and yellow serve not to brighten but to burn. The single coil of copper that snakes its way up the fret board is a fitting garnish.

Other standout guitar art pieces are Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead.) The background from which the painted guitar is fastened is in the shape of a jet black coffin. Night of a Thousand Drunken Vatos is as colorful and crazy as its title suggests. Lluvia Purpura (Purple Rain) is a tasteful tribute to the late Artist Formerly Known as Prince.  These guitar art titles are just a sample in a collection of many noteworthy pieces.

The bulk of Reyna’s canvas paintings, set against the guitar pieces, serve largely as filler. There are several worth citing due to their individual merit though. Sin Sentido (meaningless,) has a portal effect reminiscent of Mark Rothko. Breath of Fire, with its diagonal brushwork and vivid colors is engaging, as is Mascara Rojo (Red Mask.)

The center piece which ties the entire exhibit together in a loose theme is the canvas painting, Cabeza Loco. With its large, scribbled, skeletal-like visage and graffiti scrawled backdrop, it would hang perfectly at home in the dungeon of one of Walter White’s competitors.

Reyna’s brush technique is a self-taught, largely staccato application. His style is notable for his ability to lift dark undertones out of even the brightest of colors.

Orlando Reyna’s art collection will be on display at B R Vino’s through September. Stop by for a drink, a bite and a gander.

www.brvino.com

www.estudioorlando.com

Matt Minor is a culture columnist for the Fort Bend Herald.

The District Manager Pt. 13

Tags

noir, political crime, political issues, Politics, Texas, Texas Author, Texas politics, True detective

I have to meet my boss at his place of business in Wagoneer County. The Rep is a financial advisor by profession and his office is across from the county courthouse. When I get there, a strange car is parked where I usually park. I grab my briefcase and hurry inside. I’m late.

“He’s got somebody in his office. I have no idea who he is,” The secretary informs me as I dart past her.

“Ah, Mason, come on in,” he says, standing up from his desk.

“Have you ever met Jack Clark? Jack is a political consultant fresh back from Europe.”

Clark stands up to greet me. He is frighteningly thin and nearly bald. He’s wearing an American flag tie.

“I don’t believe I have. How do you do, Mr. Clark?”

“Call me Jack, Mason. You don’t mind if I call you Mason
do you?”

“That’s the handle they gave me, Jack.”

I take a seat next to Jack. We both sit facing the Rep., who sits behind his sprawling, messy desk.

“Jack here was just telling me about England and Amsterdam and…where else did you work?”

“Bulgaria. I worked on the presidential election in Bulgaria. That’s one of the Balkan states.” He turns and addresses me.

“Yes, I know my geography,” I answer.

“Fascinating stuff!” My boss declares. “By the way, Jack and I have been discussing a possible run for Congress.”

“Congress?” I ask. The remark startles me.

“Yes, Congress,” Clark interjects. “The incumbent is very weak. Terrible really. I think your boss has a good shot. Besides, this redrawn House District 100 could revert back to what it was previously if the state loses its lawsuit with the DOJ.”

“That’s right, all these redistricting legal fights with the federal government make campaigning almost impossible because you don’t know where you’re at. That said…Congress is all about raising the money!” the boss interjects.

“We’ll work on that, sir,” Clark concludes. Standing, he shakes our hands, and then excuses himself, leaving the boss and me alone.

“You know, Jack was partners with the late Warren Jenkins.”

“You mean the consultant who was murdered by the cartel a couple of years ago?”

“The very one, although the cartel part was never proved.”

“If I remember correctly, that was pretty gruesome, wasn’t it?”

 “Oh yeah, they dressed the sad bastard up in some strange clothing and cut off his balls. Tried to make it look like some deviant sex thing—I don’t really understand. People of your generation know about that kind of shit better than mine.”

“Yeah, that’s right…some kind of S&M thing, but it was a diversion.”

“What the hell does S&M mean?”

 “Sadomasochism.”

“See what I mean…?”

“Yeah, I see. The world is pretty sick.”

“It’s always been sick, Mason…it’s just gotten sicker… and perverse.” He adds, “Jack might have suffered a similar fate if he hadn’t been hired across the pond. I think it was good for him all the way around. He used to be kind of chubby.”

I’m tiring of this tragedy turned self-help story and want to discuss what was just actually brought up by Jack Clark.

“So what’s the deal with this congressional run?”

“Oh, probably nothing. Just something I’m entertaining; probably a pipe dream.”

“Not if you can get the cash. I agree with Clark, our guy in the Federal House sucks. He’s a fucking patsy for the establishment. And I think you would have difficulty in the old HD 100, that is if it reverts back to the old lines.”

“It’s a two million dollar race, at least.”

“Holy shit!”

“Right.”

“What a joke. Don’t talk to me about representative government and democracy. It’s representation of the wealthy by the wealthy.”

Continue reading The District Manager by Matt Minor!

The District Manager Pt. 12

Tags

amwriting, crime, political crime, political issues, Texas, Texas Author, Texas politics, True detective

Chapter Three

A Meeting With the Boss

It was hard sleeping without Ann. It still felt unnatural even  though I was now crashing on a fresh, smaller mattress. The fact that I knew where she was sleeping every night made it that much harder.

I’d been having some pretty gruesome dreams, of late. But on this night, it was over the top terrible.  It was like one of those campy horror movies—only it wasn’t campy.

I awake like I’ve woken from a bad dream. The bad dream I awake from… I don’t remember. Upon waking I turn and find Ann’s softly curved naked body. Her hip is warm and she starts to moan as I caress its crescent. I nestle up against her and we lie in the spooning position. Her bare bottom is pressed against my groin and I’m getting hard. She releases herself from my right arm, which is pulling her tightly into my erection.

She turns around and looks me in the eyes, studying me. After some silence, she speaks in a strange repetitive tone, “Don’t worry, Mason…you’ll get your revenge. I promise, baby, you’ll get your revenge. I promise you, baby, you’ll…” But before she can finish she starts to profusely vomit chunks of blood.

Horrified, I wake. I sit up. This…this was a bad one.

I feel like I’m steeping in something…a hot dampness, not like sweat but more like…!

I fall out of bed and hit the flea infested carpet face-first. I can feel the little fuckers tugging on my legs.

The light through the blinds has faded into a paler shade of purple. I look at the clock:  6:15 a.m. It’ll be light soon. I realize that Keith is in the den. I can hear music faintly playing. He’s passed out with the stereo on.

“Mason…” Keith asks. He’s sipping a cup of coffee as I hurry about, getting ready for work, “Do you know anywhere I can get some weed?”

“What?” I ask, flabbergasted. I emerge from the tiny bathroom with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“Some weed?”

“Jesus Christ, Keith, you know I can’t do that. If I got nailed, not only would I lose my job but I would damage my boss big time!”

“Yeah, I suppose.” He sounds dejected.

“What do you need marijuana for anyway?”

“It helps with the pain.”

“What pain?”

“Why do you think I have those prescriptions, Mason? I live with chronic pain. It’s a medical condition.”

“So weed is supposed to help with that?”

“Yes. It helps more than anything; and, it doesn’t constipate me.”

“I knew you did drugs before prison…but how do you know it works on this pain?” I swish water in my mouth.

“Because I smoked in prison.”

“What?” I ask, spitting into the dirty, cluttered kitchen sink.

“That’s right. I smoked in prison. It helped with the pain. It helped a lot.”

“Goddamn, these places are worse than even I thought. How the fuck did you get weed in prison?”

“The guards.”

“The fucking guards?”

“Yeah, that’s right. They sold it to us. It was one of the only things they were useful for.”

“Is this how you used the money I sent you… for drugs?” I ask rhetorically, then comment, “I don’t know, Keith, I was there yesterday and they looked like they wanted us for lunch.”

“Not all the guards sold, only a few. One or two.”

Before I bolt out the door I tell him, “I’ll think about it.”

Continue reading The District Manager by Matt Minor!

The District Manager Pt. 9

Tags

noir, political crime, political issues, Politics, Reading, Texas, Texas Author, Texas legislature, Texas politics, True detective

 

“How tall is this ladder?” I ask, wiping the perspiration from my eyes.

“Forty-foot.” There’s little breath behind his answer.

“No wonder it’s so heavy.” The metal ladder makes a hard clank as it hits the metal rail.

We survey the monstrosity of this place, aided by his high beam flashlight. The pictures were bad enough, but this…this is flesh and blood. The whole arena smells of shit. The pit bulls, some two dozen of them, have left their pathetic dwellings and are on alert. But not all. Several have not moved since we arrived and I fear they are dead.

“Have you noticed any changes?”

“No. Not since I’ve been aware of this.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, a week ago, last Thursday—over a week now, I guess.”

“In that time you’ve noticed no activity?”

“Someone has to come here at some point. They are fed regularly. This is the third time I’ve been up here and there is always food in the bowls. But I haven’t actually seen anyone. Of course I have to work too, you know.”

“I got the impression you were retired.”

“I am, from the Marine Corps. But my wife got sick last year and my pension isn’t enough. I do consulting work on the side.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife. And I thank you for
your service.”

“Oh, she’s doing better—Lymphoma. It’s in remission—experimental drugs. No cure though.”

“So no one you’ve contacted, with the exception of me, has found this even a little disturbing?” I ask sarcastically.

“Oh, they find it disturbing. But everyone says there is nothing they can do, because…”

“Because they have shelter, are on chains, and have adequate food,” I rudely complete his thought.

“Because they have shelter, are on chains, and have adequate food. You are correct, sir.”

“My God, it’s obvious they’re being fought!” I state emphatically. Now, something dawns on me, “Wait a minute, the other day, when I was driving to work, I saw numerous dead dogs lying in ditches, here and there. I couldn’t say for sure, but come to think of it…they could’ve been pit bulls.”

“Well, there you go, Mason.”

“We should inform all parties of this fact. I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

“What does that prove? No, it won’t change their position, but regarding what you said before your epiphany, and then confirmed by it, yes, they are fighting them, possibly breeding them. If you’ll observe, as far as I can tell these are all females.” He shines his light on the mass of hanging teats.

“The question is who are, ‘they?’”

“Yes, that is the question.”

“Another question is, ‘who owns this property?”’

“I was going to look into that this week.”

“Amazing. No one can do anything. No one sees anything. Are the cops even interested?”

“Sure. There’s even a sheriff’s deputy who lives up the road.”

“What does he say?”

“Oh, how terrible it is…”

“But nothing can be done?”

“No, nothing, nothing can be done. That’s right, Mason.”

I deal with a lot of bullshit problems. So many that the magnitude of any issue I have before me can diminish itself pretty quickly; overshadowed by the next fucked up situation. And…I have a pretty fucked up situation I have to deal with this week.

Continue reading The District Manager by Matt Minor!

 

The Tarnishing of Texas; (Cowboys in the White House)

Tags

george w. bush, LBJ, texan politicians, Texas politics

No state has seen their reputation tarnished to such a degree, due to its nationally elected native Presidents, more than the Lone Star State. None.  The Chief Executives in question: Lyndon Baines Johnson and George W. Bush; the 36^th and 43^rd President’s respectively.

Granted, both men took office in the midst of national upheaval: Johnson upon the death of Kennedy and Bush Jr. in the midst of a disputed election with Al Gore, his Democratic opponent. And no doubt things began to unravel domestically and globally shortly after both these men began governing. Johnson had Vietnam and Bush 911.

Both situations arguably made worse by their ensuing policies…and personalities.

Even taking into consideration the dark cloud under which Johnson entered office, the tall Texan was in fact the heir to Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal. The Great Society expanded the welfare state into nearly every nook and cranny of our culture. Particularly with regards to African-Americans. It is Johnson who solidified the black vote for the Democratic Party in perpetuity.

And yet the Left all but hate the man.

He was, as James Michener expressed so perfectly in his epic historical fiction novel, TEXAS, quite unacceptable to the eastern establishment. Johnson got the blame for Vietnam, no doubt…but it runs deeper than that. Johnson’s White House briefings on the state of South Asia only served to exacerbate the issue as the first ever televised war waged in America’s collective living room. Had the war broke out under Kennedy, it might have gone a bit better. It was Johnson’s style that was the problem. A cowboy at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. did not connect. Lyndon Johnson’s legacy was in the crafting of modern political tragedy.

Fast forward to the turn of the millennium and the election of yet another Texan, George W. Bush.  Unlike his northeastern father, George Jr. was a real Texan, and this was the problem. Only those motivated by malice towards the man would refute that he was not tragically at the wrong place at the wrong time. After the felling of the Twin Towers the nation was sad and angry. They needed consolation and action. But Bush not only possessed Johnson’s colloquial defects, he did it with his own particular inarticulateness.

We’ll never know how Al Gore would have actually handled the situation post 911, had he prevailed in the disputed election of 2000. The press would have treated him better, but perhaps he himself would have suffered the same fate as Johnson (unlikely). The reality was that once again a Texan was the leader of the free world in a time of great tumult, and the free world couldn’t connect.

A cowboy in the White House doesn’t work.

The state as a whole has suffered immeasurably from this. Texas was never going to be a darling of the northeastern establishment, but it could have had a seat at the broader table. As it is, the state’s immense cultural achievements remain largely on the periphery. That’s unfortunate for the state, the nation and the world, because Texas has lots to offer.

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Texas Politics in a Nutshell; or not!

Tags

Austin, media, political issues, Politics, Texas, Texas legislature, Texas politics

AUSTIN –

Austin is the pimple-faced teenager of Texas’ cities. But it wears gobs of makeup to cover this up. It looks positively beautiful from afar, but as one gazes closer…well…not so much. To begin with Austin is a city planning monstrosity. Their philosophy of ‘if we don’t build it they won’t come,’ has been disastrous, and the town’s colossal narcissism guarantees that it will continue to become a victim of its own success.

The people running Austin today had little if anything to do with the city’s ascension. And like most heirs, they have little respect for those responsible. Austin is more West Coast at this point than anything else. Californians, in particular, have a knack for running things into the ground. (Moving into a pristine area and then throwing a tantrum at its spoiling). They have all but drained the life’s blood from their home state and have now set their vampiric sights on Austin. With excessive municipal regulation and taxation, they might be successful in their creative destruction.

This taken into consideration, Austin is one of the most creative places in the world at this point in history. But can they sustain this…this is the question.

Austin is on the fast track to accomplish in a matter of two decades what it took NYC and California nearly a century to achieve: killing the bohemian soul. Creative people (true creative people not poseurs) are not usually of privileged means. Their existence requires a reasonably priced lifestyle.  In collusion with the real estate lobby, the Austin municipal monarchy could be ensuring its own creative annilation.

This would be a tragedy. But the city seems ill-equipped to deal with adult problems.

Legislatively Austin is largely intact. This is its weakness, as it has crafted few contingent suburban allies. As the minions of disaffected, priced out of the market members of the productive class, transplant to its perimeter (as Californians have done to Texas—see a pattern here?), it increasingly looks like an island. Where else in Texas can you campaign as a ‘Progressive Democrat’ and not have to worry about your signs being ripped from the earth? Other than housing the legislature, Austin has little policy impact.

In a world governed by irony and unintended consequences, the best that Austin can hope for going forward is in establishing itself as an entertainment and information nerve center. Not so much cultivating, but processing and distributing the ideas that could shape the future.

All the state lacks to dominate the cosmos is a media complex…

But again, will Austin’s success guarantee its failure?

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The District Manager Pt. 7

Tags

crime, pit bulls, political crime, political issues, Politics, Texas, Texas Author, Texas politics, True detective

 

I dwell on things, particularly work. I always have. It’s one of the things about me that drove Ann crazy. The irony was that the more I would dwell on work the less I would dwell on Ann.

I awoke that Fourth of July with a horrendous headache. I needed something to eat but there was only molded bread in the apartment. I wasn’t about to try the cat’s Fancy Feast—not yet…

One of the great things about living in a city is the proximity of eating establishments. When in the country, the wife and I had at least a ten-mile trek to the nearest gas station. However shitty the neighborhood where I now live, at least there’s a Whataburger across the street.

I sit in the establishment waiting in agony for my breakfast taco. The Jack is eating a hole in my stomach. I lifted the Julius Reynolds envelope last night before barely escaping the D.O.

Instead of listening to Dwight Yoakum and Tom Petty all night, I sipped bourbon and reviewed the materials therein. What I see is fucked up, to say the least.

The pictures that Mr. Reynolds has taken are disturbing. Pit bulls, some twenty of them, are littered about the rodeo arena’s dirt floor. Though a few have actual dog houses, most are sheltered only by makeshift lean-tos. Chains confine them to an area of only a few feet, with disgusting bowls of slop just barely in reach. How in the hell could no one find a problem here? The dogs that are in view look barely sustained. Marks are visible on a few, even from the distance that the photos were taken.

I’ve brought the materials with me into the Whataburger. I’m flipping through the packet for a refresher. I have to put them aside because it’s nudging the oncoming nausea.

I call Mr. Reynold’s after I eat. Upon return from the local VFW, he calls me back. We make arrangements to meet tomorrow.

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Texas Politics in a Nutshell; or not!

Tags

Dallas, political issues, Politics, Texas, Texas Author, Texas politics

DALLAS –

Dallas is the most complex of Texas cities. Precisely because the neurosis that spawned the modern Texas dilemma of rural versus urban started here with the assassination of JFK. (See the Preface to this series). As Austin should be taught as “What not to do 101,’ Dallas should be taught as ‘What to do 202.’ Some fortyish years ago McMurtry described the city as tense. No more. For no municipal reinvention of the last fifty years can compete with Big D.

Dallas is slick. Dallas is classy. Dallas is snotty. Dallas is…dare I say…Eastern.

On the surface…

Just below the great complexity and contradiction of the city begins to appear. JFK called Texas ‘nut country.’ He was killed in Dallas. His death gave rise to LBJ for God’s sake. Dallas should forever inhabit the lowest realms of Dante’s Hell. But it doesn’t. Why?

The Dallas Cowboys.

Now we know what Neman Marcus was paving the way for…

That’s right; The Dallas Cowboys saved the city from an eternity of hell fire. But is not football quintessentially old school Texan? One might ask. How could this be? Because the franchise started in 1960 would blossom into the archetype of a new sophisticated American cosmopolitan chivalry – (Very similar to the slain president.) Who couldn’t love Tom Landry? And what about Roger Stahbach…Prince Valiant with a jersey. And the cheerleaders? Sexy but not sleazy. A trope of dancing Guinevere’s.

America’s Team. This gave birth undoubtedly to the hit TV series a decade later. But the real oil money was in Houston; the giant cattle ranches on the coastal plains!

The genius of all of the above is that Dallas never drifted from its traditional conservatism. (Sure it’s epicenter is liberal like all major cities.) It just dressed it up like Wall Street. This persists today.

Legislatively Dallas is most the potent block there is in the Texas House. No conservative cause will succeed without it and it alone can damn near kill any RINO bill, if it so desires. But it has a tendency towards right-wing extremism, which has hurt its respective members with regards to committee appointments. Still, the bulk of its delegation is young and fires with the confidence exclusive to youth.

Houston eclipses Dallas in the high cultural arts, as well as sophisticated cuisine; Austin in grassroots vibe. But it doesn’t matter:

The Cowboys are presently the most valuable sports team on the planet. And their football conference is the NFC East.

‘…and that has made all the difference.’ R. Frost

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