Stock Yards and Modern Art in Fort Worth, Texas by Tim Ghazzawi:
It’s what the sculpture’s called. Conjoined. At the Museum of Modern Art in Fort Worth, Texas. In the garden where patrons might wander after their visit. It’s designed by Roxy Paine and consists of two silver metallic trees whose middle branches merge together like interlocking arms. My friend and I laid beneath these “trees” at the end of my visit to her hometown. Conjoined. An east-coast boy and a Texan charmer. In a city at the crossroads of modernity and some nostalgic version of the Wild West.
When I think of Texas, I think of cowboys and horses, twang and BBQ, boots and sundresses, Ted Cruz and Beto, rodeos and the Border. All in big stereotyped Texas glory. I don’t think of Picasso or Warhol or Pollock nor do I think of people who might enjoy that type of artwork. But they’re there, too. It’s all there, I found. In Fort Worth’s case, all a stone’s throw away.
The stock yards are the city’s main attraction. Twice a day cattle are herded down the main thoroughfare. Led and prodded by cowboys in traditional cowboy garb. They don’t make much noise, the cattle. Only the clopping of their hooves on the brick beneath them. They’re large, slow-moving, and smelly. Their literal long horns are intimidating, curved, and sharpened, almost poised for an attack. Their skin shades of brown and black and spotted white. Those in attendance line the streets to take pictures and gawk and cheer. Children sit on their parents’ shoulders to watch. Lick their fingers of the powdered sugar from funnel cakes.
According to the Fort Worth Herd, the official organizer of the event, these cattle drives are for the most part historically accurate. I’d characterize them as the city’s point of pride. Its connection to a pastime grown commercialized. A novelty that people return to no matter how many times they’ve been before. You have to go, my friend told me. You just have to. It’s Fort Worth!
You can’t hear the hubbub of the stock yards from beneath the silver trees. Only the hushed chatter of museum patrons who’d just picked up a latte from the adjoining cafe having just admired Reclining Woman Reading. Still the hoof beats echoed in my mind as I stared up into the branches and backdrop of blue. I guess conjoined things don’t have to make sense, I thought. The stock yards. The museum. Maybe they’re not supposed to be together but just are. I’m not sure my friend loves living in Fort Worth. But it’s home, she says. And besides better here than Dallas.
THE FACTS
I traveled to Fort Worth, Texas to visit my friend Grecia in January of 2016. A native of “Funky Town”, Grecia showed me around with ease and made me feel right at home at both the stock yards and modern museum. Check out “Across the Calderas” to read one of her own world-traveling stories.
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