What is Dallas afraid of? What is the source of this potentially cosmopolitan city's pronounced dread? Why does it so willfully participate in the worldview of paranoia that threatens to undermine what has been since the nation's inception a foundation at once steadfast yet supple, almighty yet benevolent, superpowerful yet democratic? So often cloaked in a mawkish politesse, such fear and trembling in the local art world serves only to stultify an otherwise promising intellectualism in the arts. What I am getting at here is the peculiar but unfortunately reigning collective fear of letting the city be as big and city-like as it really is. Being Dallas in full and unflinching form includes, among other engrossing and titillating things, being host to a politically provocative, even raucous art scene--a venue of creativity sometimes feral and always unapologetic. As it goes, though, the city restlessly slumbers, as if forever haunted by a drug-infused, flutter-eyed Rip van Winkle, weaving in and out of states of consciousness, momentarily awake, then... More >>>