Saturday, November 24th 2018
Marfa, TX
It’s 9:30am CST and I am waking up for our last full day in Marfa. Overnight my allergies have gone from bad to abysmal. I am struggling, but must pull it together. Today will be a busy day.
By 10am I am entering the lobby for breakfast. It's overrun with a strange mix of tourists. The crowd is a combination of Westworld and Portlandia and, strangely, I feel right at home. We luck into a corner table and enjoy a very slow breakfast while watching people and discussing our day.
By 10am I am entering the lobby for breakfast. It's overrun with a strange mix of tourists. The crowd is a combination of Westworld and Portlandia and, strangely, I feel right at home. We luck into a corner table and enjoy a very slow breakfast while watching people and discussing our day.
The first stop is a guided tour of the Chinati, Marfa's most popular contemporary art museum. Josh, our guide for the day, is wearing all denim and a pair of large, dusty work boots. I wonder if we will be mucking out stalls or viewing art, but I keep that thought to myself.
Our group is small and, after the obligatory small talk regarding Texas football, the tour gets started. Josh begins with a brief explanation of the history of the Chinati (despite the fact that he is "confident" that most of us already know the story). I smile and nod; I do not know the story.
The Chinati was founded by the artist, Donald Judd. His career starts in the 1960s in New York. The art scene quickly falls in love with him, culminating in a retrospective of his work at the Whitney in 1968. By 1971 he starts to realize the feeling is not mutual and begins to visit Marfa regularly. In 1978 he becomes a permanent resident of Marfa, basically telling NYC it's-not-you-it's-me.
Meanwhile, the Dia Foundation, also in love with Judd, offers him $4M, an old Army base and full creative control to build his dream art museum in Marfa. Judd accepts the proposal and begins building his exhibit space and art in tandem. His sculptures will be permanent, so the galleries (mostly old artillery sheds) and the surrounding dessert will become part of the art. The project ends up running substantially over budget (an impressive feat for a self-proclaimed minimalist).
The Dia Foundation eventually breaks it off with Judd and the project is delayed. In 1986 the museum finally opens to the public under the stewardship of the Chianti foundation.
Meanwhile, the Dia Foundation, also in love with Judd, offers him $4M, an old Army base and full creative control to build his dream art museum in Marfa. Judd accepts the proposal and begins building his exhibit space and art in tandem. His sculptures will be permanent, so the galleries (mostly old artillery sheds) and the surrounding dessert will become part of the art. The project ends up running substantially over budget (an impressive feat for a self-proclaimed minimalist).
The Dia Foundation eventually breaks it off with Judd and the project is delayed. In 1986 the museum finally opens to the public under the stewardship of the Chianti foundation.
Our first stop is Dan Flavin’s untitled. I’m not sure what to expect as I follow our small group into a large, dimly lit, rectangular room. The room splits near the far end, where there are 2 sets of neon lights, nestled in short, diagonally shaped hallways. One set is mostly pink and the other is mostly green. The shape of the hallways allow for visibility of a small amount of light from our end of the room, which increases as we approach. As I move closer, I am starting to feel like I can not walk in a straight line. I'm definitely into this.
We walk into to the next door of the same building and are now on the opposite side of the lights. The installation spans 6 U-shaped buildings with similar structures. Around building number 3 I start to become more comfortable and my parents and I take turns standing on opposite sides of the lights while waving to each other and laughing.
After the 6th building, our group gathers in the shade as we wait for everyone else to catch up. Josh tells a story about a group of hikers at Big Bend, where one of them fell into a hole and died. Half of the group had to wait with the dead body for 3 days, while the others went for help. No one really knows what to say. I think this tour just took a dark turn.
After the 6th building, our group gathers in the shade as we wait for everyone else to catch up. Josh tells a story about a group of hikers at Big Bend, where one of them fell into a hole and died. Half of the group had to wait with the dead body for 3 days, while the others went for help. No one really knows what to say. I think this tour just took a dark turn.
The next stop is Robert Irwin’s Untitled, Dawn to Dusk. This is the same installation where we unwittingly stopped on our first day town. Now that we are officially visiting, it’s explained that we should not take pictures (oops) and that we can go inside the seemingly empty building (yay). The installation spans 4 acres and we learn that it sits on the site of an old military hospital. Irwin wanted to use the original structure, but ultimately ended up constructing a new one in the same footprint. The building is a long hallway, divided perpendicularly. One side is lined with white, translucent fabric and the other side with black, translucent fabric. The installation is a work of space and light and I am really enjoying it. After everyone is done walking through the hallway, we pile into our cars for the final stop, the John Chamberlain exhibit across from our hotel.
This exhibit is housed in a large, gutted warehouse that used to be a wool and mohair factory. It includes 22 abstract metal sculptures, made of salvaged cars. The space feels enormous and the sculptures are evenly dispersed throughout. Marfa is doing such a great job of hiding awesome art in dilapidated buildings.
After the tour, we take a break for coffee and snacks. Around 1:45pm we are approaching Marfa Maid Dairy for our 2pm tour. They are located on Antelope Hills Rd. According to Apple maps, there are two roads that run parallel to each other called Antelope Hill Rd. and Antelope Hills Rd. We inevitably take the wrong one.
2 phone calls and 3 u-turns later, we arrive at Marfa Maid right on time. We sit on a long bench in a screen-enclosed porch with a small group of tourists. Happy farm cats wander in and out of the partially open door.
The tour is run by the couple that owns the farm. They are retired and incredibly charming. She is from California and used to run an art endowment in LA. He is from upstate New York and is an heir to a small chain of local liquor stores. Like Donald Judd, they found Marfa as the perfect escape from city life. First they fell in love with Marfa and then with each other. Marfa is a strange mistress.
It turns out that the goat farm was actually started by accident. At first, she only wanted a house with a garden. This worked well until it was time to pay property taxes. As a way to sidestep the system, they purchased a few goats and registered themselves as a farm. The Californian, the New Yorker and their small herd of goats lived happily for a few years before it occurred to them to actually turn their "farm" into a farm.
The going was tough at first. Their goats were not the right breed to produce milk and neither of them knew what to do with the milk anyways. Eventually he built up a medium-sized herd of Alpines and Nubians (the best goats for milk), and she learned how to make all sorts of cheese. Now they have a license to sell commercially and while they are not quite profitable, they are finally losing less money than the cost of property tax. I guess it takes a lot of work to stand still in these parts.
The tour is run by the couple that owns the farm. They are retired and incredibly charming. She is from California and used to run an art endowment in LA. He is from upstate New York and is an heir to a small chain of local liquor stores. Like Donald Judd, they found Marfa as the perfect escape from city life. First they fell in love with Marfa and then with each other. Marfa is a strange mistress.
It turns out that the goat farm was actually started by accident. At first, she only wanted a house with a garden. This worked well until it was time to pay property taxes. As a way to sidestep the system, they purchased a few goats and registered themselves as a farm. The Californian, the New Yorker and their small herd of goats lived happily for a few years before it occurred to them to actually turn their "farm" into a farm.
The going was tough at first. Their goats were not the right breed to produce milk and neither of them knew what to do with the milk anyways. Eventually he built up a medium-sized herd of Alpines and Nubians (the best goats for milk), and she learned how to make all sorts of cheese. Now they have a license to sell commercially and while they are not quite profitable, they are finally losing less money than the cost of property tax. I guess it takes a lot of work to stand still in these parts.
Next, we meet the goats. They are excited for the company and are very affectionate. One starts to chew on the edge of Mom’s coat, but we catch her before any damage is done. My parents take pictures as a few of the goats pose patiently. I am in a state of complete bliss, as I am surrounded by overly affectionate goats and happy farm cats. I have never been happier.
The next stop is the milking room. Our guide opens the door, shakes a bucket of food and almost immediately a goat comes bounding in. Unprompted, she jumps onto the milking platform and waits patiently. He gives us a quick primer on how to milk a goat by hand and then shyly admits that he normally uses a machine. We are each offered the opportunity to try, but by the time it's my turn, the demo goat is getting visibly agitated. I politely decline.
The tour ends with a cheese tasting, where we all grab little pieces of cheese with our goat-and-cat-infested hands. This definitely feels like West Texas.
The next stop is the milking room. Our guide opens the door, shakes a bucket of food and almost immediately a goat comes bounding in. Unprompted, she jumps onto the milking platform and waits patiently. He gives us a quick primer on how to milk a goat by hand and then shyly admits that he normally uses a machine. We are each offered the opportunity to try, but by the time it's my turn, the demo goat is getting visibly agitated. I politely decline.
The tour ends with a cheese tasting, where we all grab little pieces of cheese with our goat-and-cat-infested hands. This definitely feels like West Texas.
We head back to the hotel and sit down for an early dinner. After washing my hands for a full 5 minutes, my Dad and I split a large charcuterie plate and then I also eat a hamburger patty on the side. I guess that art and goats make me hungry.
Around 7pm we make the drive out to the McDonald Observatory. It's freezing cold, cloudy and very crowded. After only 30 minutes, we are all ready to leave. My allergies are really bothering me and I just want to be inside, next to a heater.
When we get back to the hotel, college football is playing in the lounge and there is a hot toddy with my name on it. We spend the rest of the evening in this manner and eventually head up to bed by 11pm.
