
Houston’s got these civic styles of commodifying art, experience- based art, beyond recognition, thus separating art as expensive product from the un-commodity of joyful everyday life as a rhetorical exercise on par with highway building and ruthless emminent domain as a way to isolate and insulate the poor. I object!
But listen to these poems written and read by 5th Ward senior ladies about romantic love, natural disasters,
houseplants and cast iron skillets, via a grasping-at-prestige nonprofit via public radio (sponsored by the war n’ oil giants of industry). Seriously touching, although still slightly disconcerting in their delivery.
0 Responses to “springtime in texas”