I finally made that trip to Marfa. It’s been on my bucket list for some time now and when it was announced that Solange would be performing Scales during the Chinati Weekend this year, I really couldn’t hold off on this trip any longer. So my friend, AJ and I, made that ten hour drive to West Texas and found ourselves immersed into a quick but amazing weekend of art, music, and Instagram memories. We spent our first night camping at El Cosmico where the sunsets are brilliantly pink and the karaoke crowd at night are kitschy and entertaining. We met up our friends Erica and Tina, who invited us to an art performance inside an abandoned adobe building later that evening. We took part in a cleansing ceremony where we stood around a a fire and released some of our negative thoughts and energy into the smoke and as I looked at the smoke rising into the stars above, it was sort of a beautifully calming sensation.

Sunday was a full day of checking out all the art at the Chinati and chilling by the Thunderbird Hotel pool with some good company and conversation before the Solange show, which was such a great experience to be able to be part of. The crowd was asked to dress in white as we made a procession down through the fields of Donald Judd’s 15 untitled works in concrete. We all stood on that hill as Solange and her troupe of brightly clad fuchsia made the same procession down accompanied by the sound of horns blaring in the fields. The unnaturalness of those bright fuchsia figures against the calming monochromatic tones of the West Texas fields unsettled me for a moment, but as Solange began to sing Rise, I felt a overwhelming sensation of calm and peace. The way she moved her body, the fluid movements of her hands and the way the fuchsia swayed in the wind suddenly felt more natural than ever. I remember looking up into the sky above as the sun began to set and looked at everyone’s expression. We all stood on that hill as the pink sky curved around us and I closed my eye for a moment and felt the warm breeze on my face…

Marfa is a funny little spot. The people are friendly but they won’t have any qualms turning you out even when you’re starving for a late dinner. But even then, the wait is worth its time for spots like Bad Hombre, where the burgers are juicy, the buns are perfectly crisped and the boys will mispronounce your name completely, no fucks given. It’s the kind of town where you’ll run into the same people more than once in one day, like old pals from college or even the obnoxious New York socialites in town for the “show.” Marfa creeped up on me like a slow nostalgia and just as I was feeling the love for the place, I had to pack my bags and leave. So until next year, for sure. See ya, Marfa.