Tetrix Lucifer: 01/02/11

On New Year's Day, everything in town is closed. I spend the day lazily at the hotel, a welcome break from many
weeks on the road. One of the most important forces in Marfa is the legacy of the late Donald Judd and the Chinati
Foundation. The following day, I resolve to take in some of the local culture.

The Chinati Foundation is the deeply-pocketed endowment which continues the Judd tradition of providing permanent
exhibition space to artists. The foundation administers tours of work by Donald Judd, Dan Flavin, John Chamberlain,
Richard Long, Claes Oldenburg, Roni Horn, and other art world heavies.

This building was once an internment camp for German prisoners of war. Now, it houses an exquisite collection of
aluminum boxes by Donald Judd.

You've been warned!

The exhibition begins humbly, in a small room with four, exquisite works in metal.

But once one leaves this room, and emerges in a vast space filled with luminous sculpture, all pretense of humility
vanishes.

For someone who had only seen Judd's work in a museum, and not been particularly fond of it, the art is a revelation.
My views on the artist are turned on their head. The sculptures are of the highest order.

Some prisoner instruction has been allowed to remain, an unintended irony in this well
regulated museum. A serious problem with viewing art today, particularly sculpture, is
the mania for preservation enforced on patrons by most modern galleries. Chinati is no
different. In fact, my guide stated that according to Judd's wishes, it was one of the foun-
dation's aims to preserve the work "permanently". A nice idea, I guess, but an impossible
one nevertheless. For the sake of the illusion of permanency, visitors are hustled through
the room under the watchful eye of some young hipster who, in my case, made no secret
of her disdain for the whole affair. It is a bit of a crime not to be allowed to spend more time
with the work, or to view it alone. After a scant 20 minutes, I am ushered outside, where
I'm given another 20 minutes to tour the rest of the grounds.

Across a vast field of grass, one encounters another major installation by Judd,

which consists of poured concrete forms arranged in a grassy field.

The severity of the geometry of the sculpture is softened by the protean elements of the sky and the surrounding
grasslands....

...while each step forward reveals unexpected visual pleasures.

I think that allowing someone to look at but not touch sculpture is akin to holding a plate of food beneath the nose
of a starving person. I run my hands across the rough concrete.

Again, the unpredictable surfaces of the sculptures soften their conceptual rigidity,

...as do biological processes, such as the residue of dripping water on the back surface of this construction. About
two-thirds of the way along my tour of the piece, a foundation employee informs me that the facility is closing. One
hour before sunset? What a spectacle these things must be under a setting sun.

I hop in Brünhilde and head into town to peer through the window of another Chinati building not featured on my "tour".

Inside are several nice Chamberlain sculptures.

Just past the gallery, I stumble upon the Marfa Theater.

The space tastefully retains much of its distressed character.

Beyond the theater is Godbold, Inc.,

a mill serving the large ranching presence in the Marfa area.

Another vehicle of noteworthy dereliction.

It's a beautiful paint job.

Other examples of metal in distress can be found on the water tanks of Godbold, Inc.

It's been a long afternoon, so I take a break at Padre's.

Inside, it's classic Texas.

Lone Star and pool. Or in my case, Shiner.

I watch the sinking sun, thinking about the brilliant artwork I've just seen, eating a burger.

After lunch and a few drinks, I continue my tour.

Beside this innocuous building,

I discover another ghost of Judd. A true pioneer, Judd came to Marfa in the 70's and began buying up real estate,
some of which he used as studio space.

One of several of Donald Judd's studios in Marfa, Tx. After the walk, I take the bike east, along Highway 90. A mile
out of town, I encounter a small herd of Pronghorn.