Out of Sight

Houston When an institution as large as the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston decides to pull some of its rarely seen works out of storage, the resulting exhibit is often just as rewarding as those touring block-buster shows. “Modern and Contemporary Masterworks From the MFAH,” opening this month, will showcase some of the museum’s star holdings, including several acquisitions on view for the first time. Although the MFAH considers mid-twentieth-century art to be one of its strengths, none of its galleries are specifically devoted to those pieces, which means there’s a trove of masterpieces hidden away. So you can imagine, then, how difficult it’s been for the organizing curator, Barry Walker, to whittle the approximately 2,500-piece collection down to just 77 for this occasion. “It took trial and error and tears,” he says, but the payoff is an assemblage that is as strong as it is varied. To rattle off the list of seminal artists included here—Jasper Johns, Jackson Pollock, Franz Kline, Anselm Kiefer, Philip Guston, Robert Motherwell, and on and on—sounds as if you’re reading from an art history syllabus.

But instead of seeing just one great Kline, say, or a solitary Guston, you’ll see potent clusters. There are, for instance, three Johns paintings that have never been shown together: Ventriloquist, which depicts the artist’s bathroom, complete with his own iconic flag tacked to the wall; Cicada, a canvas filled with brightly colored crisscrossing lines; and Untitled (Red, Yellow, Blue), comprised of three panels with stenciled letters, which the MFAH bought directly from Johns in 2000. One of the longer galleries will feature Abstract Expressionists, with three or four paintings by Richard Pousette-Dart, one of the group’s youngest members, and several by Pollock, including his first overall composition, titled, not surprisingly, Untitled (Overall Composition), which dates to the mid to late thirties and was a precursor to his iconic dripped canvases. As for Kline and Guston, there are multiple offerings from each thanks to two of the MFAH’s most important bequests to date: Longtime patron Caroline Wiess Law (who has a building at the museum named after her) left several dozen twentieth-century stunners, including Kline’s spectacularly dramatic (and newly restored) Orange and Black Wall, in 2004, and Edward R. Broida, a Los Angeles real estate developer, willed some fifty pieces—two late Gustons, among them—to the MFAH last September.

Also on view for the first time will be another Broida bequest, Wolfgang Laib’s Milkstone (just what it sounds like: a concave white marble slab filled with milk). Visitors will discover (or rediscover) Al Held, a second-generation Abstract Expressionist, whose geometric style wasn’t fully appreciated until the eighties (see his Taxi Cab I, above). Another audience favorite will surely be Alexander Calder’s all-white 1949 International Mobile, which measures sixteen feet by sixteen feet. “It’s one of the great pieces that we rarely get to show,” says Walker, “and it is considered to be in the most untouched condition of any of the major Calder mobiles.” Like an iceberg, the bulk of the MFAH’s recently acquired treasures are hidden from view, so when they surface, it’s an opportunity that shouldn’t be missed. Read Jordan Breal’s interview with Barry Walker. Dec 8—Mar 2. 5601 Main, 713-639-7300, mfah.org

Double Take

Dallas Two disparate but equally enriching exhibits open this month at Southern Methodist University’s Meadows Museum. If you plan on poking around—and you should—here’s what to expect. Title: “Coming of Age: American Art, 1850’s to 1950’s.” What you’ll see: Marine paintings by Winslow Homer, a portrait by Thomas Eakins, a landscape by Frederic Church, an Ashcan painting by Robert Henri, a modernist masterpiece by Georgia O’Keeffe, and an abstract work by Jackson Pollock will be arranged chronologically to highlight the major developments that unfurled over a hundred years. The verdict: If you’re looking to bolster your fine-art knowledge, spend an afternoon or two here; think of this exhibit as CliffsNotes but with much better visual aids. Title: “Jerry Bywaters: Interpreter of the Southwest.” What you’ll see: More than forty color works, including landscapes, murals, and portraits, by the ardent regionalist—and Paris, Texas, native—will be on display in this comprehensive retrospective of his work; also check out the corollary “Lone Star Printmaker,” which features all 39 of his prints shown together for the first time. The verdict: It’s been a decade since so many of Bywaters’s iconic scenes have been on view, but his endearing—if stark—depictions of his beloved state remain cultural touchstones. Coming of Age: Nov 30—Feb 24. Jerry Bywaters: Nov 30—Mar 2. 5900 Bishop Blvd, 214-768-2516, meadowsmuseumdallas.org

Hit Parade

Dallas We’ve been humming along to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” since October, but the holiday season doesn’t officially start—in Dallas, at least—until the Neiman Marcus Adolphus Children’s Parade wends its way through the streets of downtown. The early-morning procession, always held in the beginning of December, has become such a local tradition that it’s hard to believe it is only twenty years old (by comparison, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, in New York City, just turned a stately 81). From it’s inception in 1988 as a gift from the Adolphus hotel to thank Dallasites for their patronage, the parade has morphed into one of the city’s most significant fundraisers—more than $1 million has been given to the Children’s Medical Center to date—and one of its most well-attended events, with some 350,000 revelers braving chilly temps. (Millions more watch it live on national TV.) To mark the occasion, this year’s march will celebrate the history of transportation, with everything from hot-air balloons and riverboats to trains and planes (all with a holiday twist, of course) zigging and zagging along the sixteen-block route. And then there will be the usual suspects: the giant cartoon inflatables (look, Ma! It’s Jay Jay the Jet Plane!), the themed floats (the Yo Ho Ho Ho!, for instance), the VIPs (Miss America and Miss Texas), the local talents (the Dallas Tap Dazzlers, the Pegasus Flyers Bubble Patrol), and the red-suited man every little one will stand on his or her tiptoes to see. Nothing ushers in the season more vividly than the sights and sounds—kids hoisted up on their fathers’ shoulders, the brassy din of marching bands, the clip-clop of the high-stepping equestrian units—of this so-called Miracle on Commerce Street. Dec 1. Parade begins at Austin & Commerce and ends at Akard & Marilla, 214-456-8383, childrensparade.com

Winter Wonderland

Dallas Premiering at Undermain Theatre just in time to distract you from all that holiday shopping you still haven’t finished is “The Snow Queen.” Dubbed “a fairy tale for strange adults,” the play is loosely based on Hans Christian Andersen’s story of the same name and unfolds as follows. The scene is Denmark in the early 1890’s, and the titular character, Nina, has traveled south to find a paramour for the winter. But there’s a small glitch: Christian, the younger man she brings back with her, is loved by another, the brave Analiese, who journeys north to reclaim him. Penned by Lynne Alvarez, whose works have been said to follow in the magical realist tradition of Federico García Lorca and José Rivera, The Snow Queen proves the lengths we will go to for love. Undermain, which commissioned this work, was founded in 1984 and has been noted for its avant-garde offerings and its intimate (read: tiny) basement performing space in Deep Ellum. With more plays by better-known playwrights (such as Conor McPherson and Sam Shepard) and the recent addition of seven actors and designers to the payroll, the company is amplifying its presence in the community. Dec 1—22. 3200 Main, 214-747-5515, undermain.org

Lost and Found

Houston, Nacogdoches, Austin, Dallas Davy Rothbart is the kind of guy who saves his gas station receipts when he goes on road trips—for sentimental purposes. In fact, the self-confessed pack rat has parlayed his fascination with the odds and ends that the rest of us throw away into a popular publication, two books, a Web site, and even a 65-city national tour. Found Magazine, which was launched in the summer of 2001, has an uncomplicated objective: “We collect found stuff: love letters, birthday cards, kids’ homework, to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, doodles—anything that gives a glimpse into someone else’s life.” And anything goes. Readers send in a steady stream of misplaced and discarded items that have been plucked from gutters and sidewalks or harvested from the floors of city buses or from underneath park benches. Now Rothbart and his brother and co-editor, Peter, are bringing a trunkload of those finds to Texas with this month’s There Goes the Neighborhood Tour, which marks the release of Found’s crime-themed fifth issue (inside of which you’ll find an FBI agent’s files—complete with mug shots and correspondence from J. Edgar Hoover—which were found in an Indiana dumpster). At each stop, Davy will read excerpts from particularly interesting notes, letters, journal entries, and other reclaimed ephemera, and Peter will play new jams inspired by the discoveries. Audience members are encouraged to bring their own found stuff to the shows too. By now, the Rothbart brothers know better than to say they’ve seen it all. Among the more intriguing pieces they’ve come across are a “to not do” list (“DO NOT fall in love with any strangers”), a curious receipt that read “Gun, gun, gun, ski mask, Nerds,” and a love letter addressed to Cookie Monster. One man’s trash, it seems, is another man’s cultural phenomenon. Houston: Dec 7. Aurora Picture Show, 800 Aurora; 713-868-2101; aurorapictureshow.org. Nacogdoches: Dec 8. Millard’s Crossing, 6020 North; 936-564-6631; millardscrossing.com. Austin: Dec 9. Alamo Drafthouse, 320 E. 6th; 512-476-1320; drafthouse.com. Dallas: Dec 10. The Public Trust, 2919 Commerce; 214-760-7170; trustthepublic.com

Go Figure

Austin A fluffy white pillow hangs vertically on a wall, strapped down by five taut cords that are attached to springs, which are nailed into the wall. Once you’ve seen it (or envisioned it, as the case may be), the questions begin to arise: What is it? What is the artist trying to say? Perhaps it’s a political piece meant to connote violence or censorship. Or maybe it’s just an insomniac’s ode to bedding. The artwork in question, Pentagrama, is deliberately elusive, not unlike its creator, the up-and-coming Jorge Macchi, who is known for using common objects to spare, understated effect. In fact, “poetic,” “cryptic,” and “minimal” are the descriptors most often associated with his work, about forty examples of which you can see this month at the Blanton Museum of Art’s “Jorge Macchi: The Anatomy of Melancholy.” The first comprehensive exhibition of its kind in the U.S. (the Argentinean is already well on his way to stardom abroad), it’s a superb introduction. The pieces on view, which date from the nineties to the present, offer a satisfactory overview of his oeuvre, which, as Gabriel Pérez-Barreiro, the Blanton’s curator of Latin American art explains, “walks the very fine line between sophisticated conceptual strategies and emotive content.” So what does that mean exactly? Consider Monoblock, for which Macchi has taken obituaries out of various newspapers and then snipped out all the blocks of text, leaving only the religious symbols above each (either a cross or a Star of David). He’s layered several sheets of these in such a way that they look like the outline of a building, albeit one with a bunch of holes. It provokes a visceral response. So too does Nocturno, even though it employs the simplest of materials. There are two pieces of staff paper on the wall, but Macchi has hammered in nails where the notes should be in this musical score. The light from above throws ominous shadows downward. Macchi’s arrangements—as well as his recasting of everyday items—are clever. Aside from his forays into found art (you should see what he does with maps and guidebooks), Macchi also dips into video with his installation Fim de Film (End of the Film), in which film credits too blurry to read scroll up the screen as a specifically commissioned tune (composed by Macchi’s countryman Edgardo Rudnitzky) plays. (The Blanton, which has been lauded for its Latin American collection, is actually in the process of acquiring this work.) But perhaps even more varied than the types of media that Macchi uses are the subjects he covers: from meditations on unrequited love to musings on random acts of violence. As Pérez-Barreiro is quick to stress, Macchi’s nonnarrative works allow one’s own associations to bubble to the mind’s surface. There is no single explanation. Dec 15—Mar 16. Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd & Congress Ave, 512-471-7324, blantonmuseum.org