At Dress for Success and Women of Wardrobe's annual Summer Soiree, generously hosted by Tootises, fashion-forward attendees dressed in pretty pastels, bold patterns and lots of ruffles — many designed by Houston's Hunter Bell, who showed off her fall line alongside jewelry by Claudia Lobao. Chairs Karishma Asrani, Courtney Campo, Allie Danziger and Melissa Sugulas welcomed guests to the event, which toasted the 20th anniversary of Dress for Success, and raised more than $20,000 for the org.
THERE IS A pivotal scene in The Matrix where Morpheus (played by a thoroughly in-shape Laurence Fishburne) prepares the film’s hapless hero (played by a pre-John Wick Keanu Reeves) for his jump into the proverbial rabbit hole by asking him, “Have you ever had a dream . . . that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world?"
That liminal zone between dreaming and waking life is something artist Shayne Murphy knows all too well. Diagnosed in 2019 with narcolepsy, a chronic neurological disorder that involves irregular patterns in Rapid Eye Movement (REM) sleep and significant disruptions of the sleep-to-wake cycle, Murphy has chosen to do what many artists living with a potentially debilitating condition do: channel the experience into art. His newest body of work Cataplexy, on view at Anya Tish Gallery Nov. 17-Dec. 30, explores the sometimes beautiful, sometimes frightening narcoleptic visions in a new series of colorful oil paintings, meticulous charcoal drawings, and one mysterious, Cornell-like box.
Opera and film sets from the Golden Age of Hollywood are recurring visual motifs in Cataplexy. In Murphy’s charcoal drawing titled “Forest,” stage curtains hang behind the giant trunks and claw-like roots of a claustrophobic cluster of trees. Two paintings, “Chamber for Lunar Eclipse” and “Chamber for Solar Eclipse,” take their inspiration from the German Romantic architect Karl Friedrich Shinkel’s stage sets for the appearance of the Queen of the Night in Mozart’s The Magic Flute. And inside the aforementioned box is a maquette for a stage set, with black curtains draped around a full moon.
All of Murphy’s oil-on-canvas works in Cataplexy, including two surreal seascapes (“Technicolor Tombstone” and “Lime Kiln”), warrants close viewing, but “Giant Deer,” which greets visitors as they enter the gallery, is a tour-de-force. The subject is the (living?) skeleton of a heavily antlered deer, its body based on cave drawings in what is now Southern France that date back over 20,000 years ago, standing like a sentinel atop the mossy floor seen in “The Forest,” now in color, and heralded by two grandly draped, velvety curtains, one grey, the other royal red. In his notes for the show, Murphy describes the deer as “The Keeper” of dream and conscious realms but doesn’t clarify if this creature first made its presence known while he was asleep or fully awake.
Murphy’s previous show at Anya Tish, Ignis Fatuus, included portraits of his wife Casey and their friend Anne Simpson posed as saints and demons from Judeo-Christian mythology as portrayed by artists of the Renaissance and Baroque eras. Five years later, he and Casey are now parents (with another baby on the way!) and the supernatural — be it the miracle of birth, or that antlered, skeletal “Keeper” of dreams that lurks in the woods — continues to maintain its presence in Murphy’s beautiful and disorienting art.
'Giant Deer'
'Forest'
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With Violins and ‘Virtual Turntables,’ a String Quartet’s Collab with a DJ Will Make You Rethink Classical Music
Nov. 15, 2023
CAN MUSIC EXPRESS the sound of a melting ice cap? It’s a question Houston’s Apollo Chamber Players and New York-based composer, author, and multi-media artist Paul Miller, a.k.a. DJ Spooky, will explore Nov. 18 at the Burke Baker Planetarium in “Canceled,” a concert of works for string quartet, digital electronics, and A.I. generated visuals.
A veteran of DJing clubs and abandoned warehouses back when vinyl was your only option, Miller’s current rig includes a laptop and two iPad Pros, which he uses as “virtual turntables” to remix sampled sounds and ever-morphing images in a sort of dance and dialogue with Apollo’s formidable musicianship. Listeners may be surprised to discover there is indeed the common ground between music of the European classical music canon and hip-hop.
Now in its 16th season, Apollo has distinguished itself as one of the city’s premier string quartets, commissioning and programming new works by and closely collaborating with unrepresented composers from around the world. Founded in 2008 by violinist Matthew Detrick, the quartet includes Detrick’s wife and fellow violinist Anabel Ramirez, violist Aria Cheregosha, and cellist Matthew Dudzik. The provocative and politically aware approach to programming continues to be a hit with Houston audiences.
Apollo first met Miller a year ago at a performance of his at Texas A&M. “All of us were very intrigued with what Paul is doing in his space connecting classical with hip-hop,” says Detrick. “His ideas of how to create cultural harmony really jibe with Apollo’s.” Like Detrick and the other members of Apollo, Miller is “agnostic” when it comes to style, and believes collaboration across genres and disciplines is key to pushing back against the forces of censorship and bringing attention to climate change and other environmental concerns.
“It’s all hands on deck at the moment,” says Miller, who speaks highly of Apollo (“They’re amazing!”) and is currently Artist in Residence at Yale University Center for Collaborative Arts and Media. “We really need to rethink the role of moving between worlds, styles and scenes. That’s one of the healthiest and most robust things we can do these days.”
Global warming and climate change are the inspiration for Miller’s Arctic Rhythms, one of the pieces on Saturday’s program. To create the work, Miller took his studio to the ice fields of Antarctica to record climate data, including temperature differentials, water levels, and humidity indexes and then translate that data into music. The resulting “acoustic portraits” of the slowly melting ice sound a lot like the patterns one hears in four-on-the-floor techno and hip-hop, and Miller’s straightforward string writing is crafted to emphasize the grooves. Also on the program is a new work by Miller based on George Orwell’s prescient novel 1984, featuring an A.I. replication of the voice of legendary science fiction writer Samuel R. Delany reading the book, which in turn triggers images based on different scenarios described in Orwell’s nightmarish vision for the future. (On a lighter note, Miller is currently working on an A.I.-generated cookbook of recipes based on sustainability.)
In conversation via Zoom, Detrick and Miller’s appreciation for music’s historic connection to storytelling, philosophy and science is apparent. (Detrick’s office includes a framed image of a scowling Beethoven, who infused his music with the ideals of the Enlightenment; meanwhile, a large photograph of Albert Einstein looms behind Miller.) And while both readily acknowledge the perilous nature of our times — Miller jokes at one point there should be a t-shirt that just reads, “It’s bad!” — each seems blessed with the tragic optimism psychologist and Holocaust survivor Victor Frankl describes in his book, Man’s Search for Meaning.
“Music helps us reimagine what is possible,” says Miller. “I’m happy to be alive in such a strange and surreal time.”
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