Surrealism
BY ANTHONY MARIANI
CROSSTOWN SOUNDS
LIN
JENNIFER BOVEE
JENNIFER BOVEE
INSIDE
Melting Faces
By Anthony Mariani
The Art of Interpretation
Janet
By Kristian Lin
WFHell
Wanna
By Anthony Mariani
Two-Steppin' Out
By Steve Steward
Anthony Mariani, Editor
Lee Newquist, Publisher
Bob Niehoff, General Manager
Ryan Burger, Art Director
Jim Erickson, Circulation Director
Emmy Smith, Proofreader
Michael Newquist, Regional Sales Director
Jennifer Bovee, Marketing Director
Stacey Hammons, Senior Account Executive
Tony Diaz, Account Executive
Sarah Niehoff, Account Executive
Julie Strehl, Account Executive
Wyatt Newquist, Digital Coordinator
Clintastic, Brand Ambassador
CONTRIBUTORS
Christina Berger, E.R. Bills, Jason Brimmer, Buck
D. Elliott, Juan R. Govea, Patrick Higgins, Laurie
James, Kristian Lin, Cody Neathery, Wyatt Newquist, Steve Steward, Teri Webster, Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue, Elaine Wilder, Cole Williams
EDITORIAL BOARD
Laurie James, Anthony Mariani, Emmy Smith, Steve Steward
Surrealism and Us
The
Modern exhibit submits a brilliantine, important message for today.
STORY AND PHOTOS BY ANTHONY MARIANI
Walking through Surrealism and Us, there’s a part of the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth where the new exhibit and the building tease each other. The spot sits to the right of one of the sculptural displays. As the curving mounted shapes scuffle with the myriad silver vertical lines of Tadao Ando’s glassy, steely conjoined boxes rising and falling outside like Matrix code on a Magnavox TV circa 1952, with the weak-tea-green reflecting pool below screaming, “Serenity now!,” the resulting vertigo warps not only space but time itself. Surrealism isn’t just nostalgic whimsy. And it’s not just whimsy here. It’s active permanence. Even resistance.
The “state of contemporary art is rumbly,” the “right soundtrack” for an industry “locked in a deadly serious arms race of whimsy.” The New Yorker’s sweeping opinion
was written recently in reaction to the 60th annual Venice Biennale, the biggest, most important group show on the planet. The magazine implicitly argues that whimsy equals a firm rejection of (often harsh, mostly brutal) reality. Democracy is dying. The world is burning. Housewives or Dateline and bottomless mojitos — and whimsical art command our downtime and what’s left of our bandwidth. This distraction-action, though, could also mean we’re just gathering strength for the next fight. We’ve come a long way since, say, 1924, when André Breton published his Manifesto of Surrealism …
Many miles lie ahead of us, and with Surrealism and Us, the Modern offers as a creative, perhaps IRL alternative the genre that was once an entire political movement that crisscrossed the West, even landing in such non-bougie locales as the Caribbean and clearly arriving with a resonant, sparkling musicality. Kind of like us when we step off the cruise ship in Nassau.
Organized by Curator María Elena Ortiz, Surrealism and Us is “the first intergenerational show dedicated to Caribbean and African diasporic art presented at the Modern.” Comprising more than 80 pieces from the 1940s to the present in nearly every medium, the exhibit takes its title from a 1943 essay by Martinican thinker Suzanne Césaire. Many Caribbean and Black artists, evidently, gravitated toward the movement. Some to make a statement. Others to
Greeting visitors entering the Modern galleries, Wifredo Lam’s “Dark Malembo, God of the Crossroads” is one of the Cuban painter’s signature works. continued on page 6
channel the universe or the universal mind. Even others to do some Voodoo.
The practice is in the soil, in the air. Brought over along with several other religions by enslaved Africans centuries earlier, Voodoo — or Vodun/Voudu (Haiti), Ju-Ju (Bahamas), Santería (Cuba), Obeah (Jamaica), and Shango (Trinidad) — came to be from the belief that God was so distant, we mortals needed spirits to intervene with Him. Praying, sacrificing animals, venerating ancestors, banging drums, channeling spirits — it all helped the slaves not only cope with the inhumanity crushing them but also resist against the Spanish, French, and even the U.S. Marines. The art of the West Indies carried on the revolutionary tradition asymmetrically: not with text necessarily or outright propaganda — or with guns or bombs — but with mind-expanding imagery.
Open minds are empathetic, and empathetic minds make life better for everyone.
Betye Saar’s mind has always been on us.
“To me,” the 97-year-old Angeleno has said, “the trick is to seduce the viewer. If you can get the viewer to look at a work of art, then you might be able to give them some sort of message.”
“The View from the Sorcerer’s Window” unwinds like a tarot card reading. Saar’s assemblage consists of a compact vertical windowpane three panels high teeming with stars and moons, occult symbols, and an all-seeing or visionary eye, a human
eye in the palm of an open hand. The piece suggests that the celestial and terrestrial worlds connect in more ways than we may ever know.
For Jacques-Enguerrand Gourgue, Voudu simmered beneath his own Port-auPrince roof — his mother was reportedly a Voudu priestess (and his father was a French psychiatrist, a different sort of dark art). Rural Haitian life and Voudu ceremonies typically
busied Gourgue’s canvases, including 1947’s “Huitieme Chambre (The Eighth Room),” finished when he was 17 years old. There’s a lot going on here. In one foregrounded chamber connected to seven others behind it by a hallway receding from near the center of the frame, a Black man with a giant silver machete protruding from his torso lies bleeding on a bed beneath which a long brown snake stretching through all the rooms drinks the
blood. A Black man bedside wearing a scowl and a fancy hat folds his arms while sitting on a chair that is actually an ox — you can tell by its horned face atop the seatback. Solid red fires burn in each space as a smaller Black figure (also fancily hatted) does a split (?!) in his brown pants on the floor near some offerings (bottles, another machete, a cup). The Surrealism is not in the flattened, almost cartoonish form. It’s in the exuberantly imaginative content. In style, “The Eighth Room” resembles “The Magic Table,” another Gourgue from the same year that’s been part of MoMA’s permanent collection for decades. One Surrealism and Us contributor was a Voodoo priest. Hector Hyppolite has two works here, and they’re both wonderfully nuts. “Macanda,” in which grotesque, winged, brown-skinned humanoids like The Beatles’ Blue Meanies hover over a supine, blanketed Black man, is a reference to 18th-century Haitian rebel leader François Makandal. Born in Africa, enslaved in Haiti, and convicted of attempting to poison thousands of plantation owners, Makandal may have — quite possibly could have — escaped being burned at the stake. Either way, he’s a legend now.
Hyppolite’s other offering, “Damballah Le Flambeau,” pays homage to one of Voudu’s or Obeah’s most important iwa, or spirits. In the painting, the debonairly mustachioed Damballah takes the form of winged serpent, curling up in lush vegetation. In Haiti in 1945, Hyppolite, an early forefather of Afrosurrealism, met with another, famous Surrealism and Us contributor, continued on page 7
Black-silhouetted grotesqueries unfold linearly in Kara Walker’s gallery-consuming piece.
Wifredo Lam, and with Breton, both of whom would go on to promote Hyppolite’s work, ultimately landing the Voudu priest here, in Fort Worth, in Texas, in the United States, at the cusp of another civil war.
Until her death in 1987 at the age of 95, Minnie Evans tapped into something special, and while it wasn’t occultish or dangerous, or revolutionary, like some mind-altering artistic genre or some individualist religion born of torment and death, it was mystical. Inspired by her Christian faith and the flowers and trees where she worked as a gatekeeper in her native North Carolina, the outsider infused her prismatic, mandalic pictures with various folk-art flavors from around the world. In Free within Ourselves: African-American Artists in the Collection of the National Museum of American Art, Evans claimed an antediluvian message from the Lord came to her.
“This art that I have put out has come from the nations I suppose might have been destroyed before the flood,” she said. “No one knows anything about them, but God has given it to me to bring [them] back into the world.”
In subject matter and color, Evans — through divine intervention, coincidence, or Jung’s collective unconscious, a.k.a. that universal mind (or maybe even a few magazines, books, and newspapers of the time) — harked to diverse elements in the
folk art of East India, Africa, China, the Caribbean, and more. At the Modern, her small, bilaterally symmetrical, hallucinatory images in various media (ink, pencil/oil, crayon, gouache, collage) mirror Madhubani paintings. Juicy bulbs of refulgent plantlife radiate outward and fold in on one another, which is in keeping with not only the East Indian style but many of the other ancient folk-art traditions that Evans quite possibly miraculously channeled. These pieces are small and not in a prominent place in the show, but don’t miss them.
As you might imagine for a third-world island nation in the mid-20th century, a lot of the artists there inspired by religion or politics were self-taught, and even the ones who weren’t acknowledged the primitivist nature of their culture. Not only acknowledged it but celebrated it. It was a way of reclaiming the past, their proud heritage. And a way of promoting it.
The native Caribbeans’ renderings were faithful to the stories of old. Depictions of animals and the creation of the world and also of heroes delivering cultural gifts to the masses informed most of the paintings, drawings, and sculptures across the territory. Like only a couple other Surrealism and Us contributors, Lam asserted that primitivism was no less deserving of a place in the Eurocentric art world as any other, fine style. He made sure of that.
“My painting is an act of decolonization,” he said, “not in a physical sense but in a mental one.”
Working mostly in Spain, Paris, and his native Cuba from the late 1920s until his death in 1982, Lam specialized in primitive art inspired by his homeland and in Cubism, a particularly Eurocentric movement that peaked in the 1940s.
Lam’s two contributions to Surrealism and Us are Cubist: 1951’s “Les Mains Croisés (The Crossed Hands),” a portrait of a shrouded horse-like humanoid with clasped hands at waist level, and “Le Sombre Malembo, Dieu du carrefour (Dark Malembo, God of
the Crossroads)” from 1943, the same year Lam produced one of his signature works, “Omi Obini,” which recently commanded $9.6 million at auction, a record for him. In “Malembo,” the first large piece to greet museumgoers as they enter the exhibit proper, the artist nods to his verdant homeland by giving us an expansively green backdrop for several abstracted figures to become entangled like some horror-movie monster. A two-headed horse comes to mind. Except the faces are humanoid. And semi-cartoonish. And one of them has horns. Or antlers. The devilish touch is fun, decidedly naive. At this point, the accompanying texts and Googled quotes dissipate like the smoke from an extinguished novena candle. For the sake of this conversation, Malembo was a slave trade station in West Africa and the horny guy is apparently Eleguá, the spirit in Santería who rules over crossroads and determines our fates. It’s a strong piece. It was also ingenious at the time. There weren’t a lot of mashups of childlike primitivism and the avant-garde. By intertwining the folk cultures he loved so much with newness, Lam helped establish a new, non-Eurocentric lingua franca. His nonverbal revolution spoke to everyone.
One delightful, downright joyous piece in a museum overflowing with high, mostly eldritch strangeness is “Momma’s Family.” Made up of several differently shaped gold copper pans imprinted with primitivist faces, native Dallasite Hugh Hayden’s hanging 2024 sculpture looks like a quiet choir singing all of our praises. Again, when up continued on page 9
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New Yorker Kenny Rivero’s painting “Olafs and Chanclas” does whimsy justice.
against the kinds of odds we equality lovers are, humor gives us a chance to take some deep breaths before soldiering onward, once again to the breach — not to the beach like Ted Cruz during a climate crisis while a broken billionaire-buddy electrical grid grinds on phlegmatically.
And Agustín Cárdenas’ reliquary-esque figures, the sculptural displays near the Matrix part of the Modern, draw precisely from his Afro-Cuban roots. Sleek and amorphous, they’re totems to conversation as an agent of change as opposed to guns, swords, or other weapons, even manifestos. The inky, medium-sized pieces look like they weigh a ton but have a poetic ebullience about them. There’s no anger or rage here. It’s just pure enticement for the viewer’s pleasure.
To capture the “genuinely surreal nature of everyday life in the Caribbean,” MoMA says, Alejo Carpentier riffed on the West’s “magic realism” to arrive at lo real maravilloso, or “the marvelous real.” The famous Cuban novelist also tapped into the source.
“Hate of the marvelous,” Breton wrote, “rages in certain men, this absurdity beneath which they try to bury it. Let us not mince words: The marvelous is always beautiful. Anything marvelous is beautiful. In fact, only the marvelous is beautiful.”
We’re to believe that traveling between the physical realms and the ones considered mystical, or marvelous, happened all the time in the West Indies, and from there, the experience radiated through space and time. In a lot of ways, the turbulence of history lives on, here, at democracy’s night and the planet’s end. Fittingly, a decent amount of contemporary art populates Surrealism and Us.
The gravitas of a milestone helps underline the exhibit’s significance now. Maybe we learned a thing or two in the 100 years between Breton’s treatise and today. We know
what the white-guy artists thought of it — the average Important Museum groans with their handiwork. What about everyone else?
What about the Caribbean? It’s close enough to us to seem familiar but far enough away to appear entirely, marvelously foreign, the perfect locus for our sensibilities. We museumgoing folk are an equality-minded people. We love the old (dead) white guys, but let’s see some new, colorful faces with something to say. And maybe some spirits to conjure.
Surrealism and Us aims to please on that point. One new-to-me voice is Kenny Rivero. Seen on a lot of the exhibit’s advertising, the New Yorker’s painting “Olafs and Chanclas” does whimsy justice. Two Black children costumed in white sheets with holes cut out for the eyes stand on either side of another all-seeing or visionary eye. The title card tells us Rivero is a Dominican American drawing from his Big Apple childhood and his mother’s family’s Afro-Caribbean “spiritual practices” (probably Vudú). What’s inspiring about this piece isn’t anything literal, definitely not anything overtly political. It’s that humor and the playful shock of such a never-before-seen image legitimately challenge the norm. Is emailing a scrap of automatic writing to Sweaty Teddy Cruz the equivalent of voting against him? No. We’re just saying that by opening our (possibly empty, definitely white) eyes to not just one possibility but an infinity’s worth of them, we can put the U.S. senator from Houston out of a job. Or at the very least learn some empathy.
Rivero synthesizes iconic imagery to tell visual poems — automatic writing for the eyes. He’s an inspired, mostly figurative narrativist and, unsurprisingly for such a nonconceptual show, one of several here.
The best-known — and arguably the best contemporary art has to offer, thanks to her biting style — Kara Walker consumes an entire side gallery. Peeking into the cavernous room reveals sweltering splotches of red, green, blue, white, and black across which the Californian’s black-silhouetted grotesqueries unfold linearly in both directions.
while behind him on a line, a fish dangles, referring to Jesus. The symbolism here tells me that there’s a ... catch ... to taking the bait. As a lot of church leaders know, unfortunately: Keeping the flock well-fed is just as important as scaring the crap out of them with cultural bogeymen.
If Rivero’s tableaux tickle, Walker’s nightmarish Antebellum horror novels terrify. For a palate cleanser, make your way to Stanley Greaves.
The 90-year-old Guyanese’s paintings aren’t sinister. They merely betray a weird, gloomy sci-fi or marvelous-realism bent that’s spooky-intellectual rather than spooky-visceral like Walker’s stuff. Basically, Greaves’ images aren’t going to follow you home.
They’ll definitely put you in a mood. “The Apotheosis” could have been an OMNI magazine cover. A pack of shadowy black hounds winds up stairs beneath a solar eclipse to a raised platform on which a man standing holds up a puppy to the night sky and a microphone. Like this piece, Greaves’ other contribution is also part of his epic 14-painting series There Is a Meeting Here Tonight (1992-2001). In “Election Results,” a shirtless Black man in the foreground offers us a loaf of bread and a microphone
As great as Surrealism and Us is, some pieces seem forced. We all love Kerry James Marshall, but his realistic birds on branches rely way too much on the accompanying text for any “Surrealist” heft than the canvas itself. Same for a couple other works. Most of them look fabulous but may not honestly qualify as “surreal.” Enough nitpicking. This all brings up the recent kerfuffle about art criticism itself. In a story in the Manhattan Art Review, the editor said it’s OK for critics to dwell — at length — on their misgivings about certain shows or works of art: “Writing about art can have any number of objectives, but lurking behind any analysis is the question of judgment. Most contemporary art writing uses interpretation as a way of sidestepping the problem of quality, but interpretations are impossible to take seriously if the art itself is bad.”
While I mostly agree with him, I’m not quite sure what the point is. One reason overtly nasty criticism evades us readers is that there’s just not enough appetite for needless invective. It does no one any good. Not the reader and certainly not the artist. And I can only think that all that cleverness in the mean art critic’s screed could have been better applied to another format. Maybe a poem. Or a crust-punk song. Or a pulp novel. Look at Kevin Smith. After his heart attack, the filmmaker said he stopped hating things, saying he’d rather focus his energies on what he loves. The high road is always there. Taking it takes strength.
And I’ve always loved Sontag. “Lovingly” describing a work of art, as she’s said, should be the critic’s primary responsibility. Unless there’s some sort of Art Critic Test we all must pass before visiting any museum or gallery then popping off, or maybe even before rolling into Target to choose between an autumnal-road print or a still life of a water pump with some sunflowers, subjectivity cannot be defeated.
To a point. Anything referential or derivative will/should be ignored while the rest — on the walls, onscreen, onstage, or on the page — will/should go on being “lovingly” recreated in words.
“Reality cannot be ignored except at a price,” Aldous Huxley said, “and the longer the ignorance is persisted in, the higher and more terrible becomes the price that must be paid.”
That’s fine, Brave New Guy, but we’re not necessarily talking about eschewing what’s in front of us, touching us, starving us, choking us, bombing us to the detriment of our life as if it were a tit-for-tat proposition. What we’re talking about, and what Surrealism and Us suggests, is a shift in perception, from the literal to the metaphoric, and in that switch, we can terrorize the establishment in multihued, unexpected, certainly delightful ways. l
Jacques-Enguerrand Gourgue completed “The Eighth Room” in 1947 when he was 17.
Dallasite Hugh Hayden’s 2024 sculpture looks like a quiet choir singing all of our praises.
Moody, sinister, and a little cheeky, Stanley Greaves’ “The Apotheosis” could have been an OMNI magazine cover.
On view through August 25
SCREEN
Janet, Dammit
Our film critic deals with a blind spot — and this movie.
BY KRISTIAN LIN
I seem to lack the proper appreciation for these lyrical, contemplative films about girls growing up with distant parents. You may remember that I didn’t include Charlotte Wells’ Aftersun in my list of 2022’s best movies, nor did I include Raven Jackson’s All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt among last year’s best movies. It looks like Annie Baker’s Janet Planet (which opens this week) is headed for the same fate this year. These movies seem to wash over me without quite crystallizing into something that I can get a grip on, while my fellow film critics go bananas over them. Antoneta Alamat Kusijanović’s Murina and Céline Sciamma’s Petit Maman aren’t so very different from those, and somehow they popped the red button in my brain that screams at me, “That’s a freaking great movie!” Not these, though.
Instead of writing off these movies as failures, I feel like I’m failing these films. In fact, I probably am failing these films, judging by the great reviews they receive from other quarters. These movies challenge me to adopt a new way of seeing and feeling, and I seem unable to rise to it. Why is that? True, I’ve never been a 10-year-old girl or a single
parent raising one, but then I’ve never been a soldier or an astronaut, either, and I have no trouble vibing with great movies about them.
Am I so desensitized that I need car chases or laugh-out-loud jokes or some bombshell of a dramatic payoff to keep me in a film? Maybe it’s good that I’m forced to ask these questions of myself. It would be pretty terrible if I ever actually figured out everything about film.
Still, that doesn’t lessen my frustration at realizing that, for me, Janet Planet is a collection of very pleasant vibes that never reach the quiet revelation that it’s aiming for. This movie is in my blind spot, and I don’t like that.
The film takes place in the summer of 1991, when 11-year-old Lacy (Zoe Ziegler) grows up in Western Massachusetts as the daughter of single mother Janet (Julianne Nicholson), a licensed acupuncturist whose business is called Janet Planet. The film is structured around three
people whom Janet encounters over the summer: a boyfriend named Wayne (Will Patton), a friend from her teen years named Regina (Sophie Okonedo), and a New Age guru (Elias Koteas) whom Janet pegs as a cult leader but still finds herself drawn to.
The three-part structure invites comparisons to a three-act stage play, and indeed Baker — a UT professor, by the way — is a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright working on her first film. (She will likely make my year-end list of best debut filmmakers.)
Yet stagey is the last thing this movie feels, even when it’s taking in an outdoor theater performance. Baker isn’t one for big visual flourishes, and heaven knows I do like my big visual flourishes, but that would be out of place in such a quiet and small-scale film. When Lacy, who has trouble making friends, hits it off with Wayne’s daughter who is her age (Edie Moon Kearns), Baker makes it feel
natural as her camera follows the girls while they run through a shopping mall.
The acting here is excellent, particularly from the two leads. Nicholson is softly radiant as a mother who admits, “I’ve always known that I can make any man fall in love with me if I really try, and I think it’s ruined my life.” Yet it’s bespectacled, flame-haired Ziegler who will draw your attention as one of those serious kids who’s so alert to everything that she unnerves the adults around her. The movie’s final shot goes in tight on her face as she observes while her mother takes part in a contra dance, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget her gaze.
For all that, I still have so much trouble gaining any purchase on Janet Planet Counting out its very real qualities only throws my own shortcomings into higher relief. If you see this film and find it to be a gem that you cherish for the rest of your days, I’ll be happy for you. If you come out of it feeling like me, well, let’s have a beer together and talk it out. l
Julianne Nicholson and Zoe Ziegler take in a theater performance and a great deal else in Janet Planet. Courtesy A24 Films
Janet Planet Starring Zoe Ziegler and Julianne Nicholson. Written and directed by Annie Baker. Rated R.
Does going to Dallas for a show count as a staycation or vacation adventure? Either way, add the Fifth of July show by Fort Worth’s bluesrocking Royal Sons to your holiday itinerary.
Happy birthday, America! In celebration, let’s all go to a ton of local shows this month. Deal? For more Independence Day ideas, check out next week’s Night & Day. As for live music, buckle up.
Fourth of July
A great place to start will be the Fourth of July Kickoff Festival featuring Keegan McInroe with Aden Bubeck, Gary Grammer, James Hinkle, Morris Holdahl, Clint Kirby, Katie Robertson, Dirt Stinnett, and Chris Watson at Birdie’s Social Club (2736 W 6th St, Fort Worth, 817-888-8914) 6pm-10pm. Other special guests include Sean Russell, Henry the Archer, J/O/E, Jessi England, Tommy Luke, Jana Renée, and more. This event is dog-friendly (on leashes, please), all-ages, and free. RSVP on Prekindle.com.
If the road is calling you this holiday weekend, Tejas Brothers vocalist/ accordionist Dave Perez will perform as a special guest in Larry Joe Taylor’s band at the Fourth of July Concert in the Park at Birdsong Amphitheater (644 S Graham St, Stephenville, 254-918-1295) also with Presley Haile, Nick Brumley, Race Ricketts, and Shawn Camp. There is no cost to attend, and it’s BYOB, plus you are welcome to bring blankets, lawnchairs, and snacks. The music starts at 7pm with fireworks once it gets dark.
Does going to Dallas for a show count as a staycation or vacation adventure? Either way, add the Royal Sons’ Fifth of July show to your holiday itinerary. Our hometown boys are playing with The Doors Hotel (tribute) at Granada Theater (3524 Greenville Av, Dallas, 214-824-9933) 7pm that Fri. Tickets start at $16 on Prekindle.com.
While you’re in Big D, stay awhile. Spend the night. See the sights. Drive the JFK route. Then, on Saturday night, Jul 6, take in the first North Texas show of reunited local thrashers Power Trip, who have been on hiatus since the death of vocalist Riley Gale in 2020 (R.I.P.). In December, the surviving members played a surprise set in Austin with Seth Gilmore of Fugitive on vocals. In February, Power Trip announced they would be playing several more shows in 2024 with him again. This is that.
Second Weekend
Fort Worth phenom Jack Barksdale will open for rootsy singer-songwriter Max Stalling at Tulips FTW (112 St. Louis Av, Fort Worth, 817-367-9798) 7pm Fri, Jul 12
Tickets start at $38 at SeeTickets.us. Same night, you can also check out the Silverados, formerly Mike & The Moon Pies, at Billy Bob’s Texas (2520 Rodeo Plz, Fort Worth, 817-624-7117). Tickets start at $18 on AXS. com. And since the Weekly’s brand ambassador Clintastic is a big MJ fan, I think I know where he will be going this Jul 12. At 7:30pm, Arlington Music Hall (224 N Center St, Arlington, 817-226-4400) hosts MJ LIVE: Michael Jackson Tribute. This promises to be a night filled with iconic hits and some sweee!-heeet! dance moves. Tickets start at $19 on Eventbrite.com. Local thrash/hardcore outfit Toxic Madness’ last local show before embarking on a tour is 7pm Sat, Jul 13, with Anak, Boof, and The Scandals at Three Links (2704 Elm St, Deep Ellum, 214-484-6011). For ticket info, visit ToxicMadness138.com.
And Fort Worth rapper 88 Killa will be a featured artist at the Dallas Entertainment Summer Showcase at Trees (2709 Elm St, 214-741-1122, Deep Ellum) 6pm Fri, Jul 12. Baba Kuboye, Blaque Dynamite, King Clam, Kwinton Gray, Lighthouse, Loners Club, Alex O’Aiza, and a few others are also on the bill. Admission is $20 in advance at TreesDallas.com or $30 at the door.
Third Weekend
Straight from Mineral Wells, Southern-rock trio Blackhorse formed in the early 1970s and without a record deal self-produced a self-titled album in 1979 and promptly went on tour, sharing the stage with the likes of ZZ Top and others but never quite catching fire. After a brief name change followed by a long break, they decided to start gigging again, inspired by the reception to the 2008 reissue of their debut LP. Along with Iron Mang, Pulse, and Zativah Kid as part of Night 1 of the annual Vulgarfest, Blackhorse will take the stage at Haltom Theater (5601 Belknap St, Haltom City, 682-250-5678) 7pm Fri, Jul 19. Admission s $20 at the door.
Normally, I think folks should not Dallas our Fort Worth, but I will make an exception for the Polyphonic Spree with Jumprope at Tulips FTW (112 St. Louis Av, Fort Worth, 817-367-9798) 7pm Sat, Jul 20
Tickets to bask in the sparkling melodies and peaceful vibes of frontman Tim DeLaughter and his band of singing, choir robe-wearing hippies are $30 on SeeTickets.us.
Before you get your Spree on, there’s the Local Music Showcase & Vintage Flea Market at Doc’s Records & Vintage (2628 Weisenberger St, Fort Worth, 817-732-5455) noon-6pm that Saturday. One-Eyed Monster
Worth, @TheChatRoomPub) on the Near Southside. That’s where F-Dub indie-rockers Hotel Satellite will celebrate the release of their new single “Nothing Much Happens (World’s Greatest Mess).” Kevin Aldridge and the homies will play early and be followed by Cut Throat Finches, the big Fort Worth pop rockers who’ll shut it down. No word on cover yet.
At 7pm on Mon, Jul 15, smart-country bros Grady Spencer and Brandon Birdwell will play Magnolia Motor Lounge (3803 Southwest Blvd, Fort Worth, 817-332-3344). Tickets are $10-20.
with Same Brain and Sisso kick things off at 2pm. The low, low price of free will also include a complimentary beer for those of legal drinking age. (Vintage-wise, Doc’s is the permanent home of Honey Suckle Rose, so stopping by this event is a win-win-win.)
The next night at Tulips FTW (Sun, Jul 21), major-label Fort Worth dudes the Unlikely Candidates will play with Nolo. Those tickets are also $30 on SeeTickets.us.
Earlier that Sunday, Suzy & Woodrow of Suzy & The Sissies will perform as an acoustic duo for free in the Stockyards at Second Rodeo (122 E Exchange Av, Ste 340, Fort Worth, 877-517-7548) noon-3pm.
Fourth Weekend
When the Foo Fighters first announced this year’s North American tour, it did not include a North Texas date. So, I bought tickets to the Thu, Jul 25, show in Cincinnati, Ohio. Before and after, I will be visiting with Fiona the Hippo at the Cincinnati Zoo and exploring Mammoth Cave. Y’all have fun at these shows while I’m gone! Somehow, I’ve never been to a James McMurtry show, which is sad because I’m a big fan. If you get to see him with special guest BettySoo at Granada Theater (3524 Greenville Av, Dallas, 214-824-9933) 7pm Fri, Jul 16, be sure and block everyone’s view with your tablet as you record the show for me. Thanks! Tickets start at $22 on Prekindle.com.
The farewell tour of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band is making a stop in our town this weekend. The three-time Grammy-winning group that formed in Long Beach in 1966 have been road dogs ever since. That’s a long musical journey! They also released a new record. Dirt Does Dylan came out in 2022. So, get Gritty at Bass Performance Hall (525 Commerce St, Fort Worth, 817212-4280) 7:30pm Sat, Jul 27. Tickets start at $44 at BassHall.com/NittyGritty.
Fresh off an arena tour with divorce-pop legends REO Speedwagon and rockin’ Rick Springfield, Los Angeles Americana duo Dauzat St. Marie will be at The Cicada (1002 S Main St, Fort Worth, @The_Cicada_FTW) 8:30pm Sun, Jul 28, with openers Ryker Hall and Kyle Bradley. For updates on tickets, go to DSM.live once this show date is closer or keep an eye on the venue’s socials.
The Local List
One killer show is Sat, Jul 27, at the Chat Room Pub (1263 W Magnolia Av, Fort
Darstar has two cool gigs this month. First, the mod-rockers play Double Wide (3510 Commerce St, Dallas, 469-872-0191) 7:30pm Fri, Jul 19, with Anti Rad, The Infamists, King Healer, and Muenster. “This is a ‘blend’ show with a little bit of many genres,” says vocalist Lisa Hardaway. “Think: Judgment Night soundtrack.” Tickets are $10 in advance on Prekindle. com or $15 at the door. Darstar will also perform with Assisted Living, Dome Dwellers, and Flesh Narc at Green Lounge (1807 N Elm St, Denton, @GreenLoungeDenton) 8pm Sat, Jul 27. “The cover is $5, like it’s 2005 again.”
Speaking of The Infamists, they have two other gigs in late July. In addition to the Double Wide show, they’re playing with Lotus Lords and Stone Machine Electric at Andy’s Bar (122 N Locust St, Denton, 940-301-3535, $10) 8pm Fri, Jul 26, and at a free show at the Boiled Owl Tavern (909 W Magnolia Av, Fort Worth, 817-920-9616) 8pm Wed, Jul 31
Matthew of The Mathew Show has two solo gigs this month at Fort Brewery & Pizza (2737 Tillar St, Fort Worth, 817-9238000): Sat, Jul 6, and Sat, Jul 27. Both shows start at noon and are free, which leaves you plenty of time and beer money.
Before and after a jaunt to Illinois, blues band/SRV tribute act Texas Flood has a few dates around the #LoneStarState: at the Guitar Sanctuary (6633 Virginia Pkwy, McKinney, 972-540-6420) 8pm Sat, Jul 6; at Main Street Crossing (111 W Main St, Tomball, 281-290-0431) 7pm Thu, Jul 18; and at Cedar Hollow Winery & Vineyard (540 Co Rd 698, Farmersville, 214-2987874) 6pm Sat, Jul 27. For ticket info, visit TexasFlood.net.
The last time I wrote about the Dick Beldings, I used a very old picture. From 1902, I think. They’ve since done a few more photo shoots but haven’t aged one bit. Just look at these handsome fellas now! This month, they have two free shows. They’re playing O’Shea’s (310 Grapevine Hwy, Hurst, 817-577-4006) 9:30pm Sat, Jul 13, and then on the outside stage at Texas Live! (1650 E Randol Mill Rd, Arlington, 817-852-6688) on Tue, Jul 16, after the MLB All-Star Game at Globe Life Field (734 Stadium Dr, Arlington, 817-533-1972).
Some of this list comes from nice local musicians who care to submit their upcoming gig info to me via Jennifer@FWWeekly. com every month. You should do the same (hint, hint). Send me an intro email, and I’ll put you on my #PaperRoute.
By Jennifer Bovee
The Dick Beldings are playing at the postMLB All-Star Game party at Texas Live! on Tue, Jul 16.
Get in the car! We’re headed to Dallas with 88 Killa on Fri, Jul 12.
NIGHT&DAY
Luke Skywalker himself — Mark Hamill (!!!) — will join Congressman Colin Allred and State Rep. James Talarico as the starred speakers of Texas 2024: Empowering Change Through Faith and Action, a virtual conversation at 6pm hosted by the Texas Democratic Party. For login instructions and tickets starting at $25, visit TXDem.co/Texas2024.
Capernaum Studios (10700 FM 920, Poolville, 817-341-7257) offers an immersive Independence Day Experience Fri-Sat, Jun 28-29, with hour-long timeslots 9:30am-4:15pm. Along with discussing the Revolutionary War’s beginning and showing battle scenes on a movie-style soundstage, this faith-based organization also wants to highlight the Black Robe Regiment, “the influential pastors from the colonies [who] inspired their communities to fight against tyranny.” Tickets start at $22 per person at Universe. com/Independence-Day-Experience.
If you like arcade games with your live music, HAVOC! is the event for you. As part of Haltom: Summer Edition,
the Haltom Theater (5601 E Belknap St, Haltom City, 682-250-5678) will have live music on two stages, plus food, drinks, and arcade games starting at 2pm Sat, Jun 29. The bill features 13 local bands: Astrixion, Avery Jade, Bloodletting, Creeper, Crown of Horns, Cutthroat Conspiracy, The Dark Divide, Mazenko, Memories of Dying, Metonic, Rivethead, Skybaus, and Threnody. Admission is $20 per person.
Jaret Ray Reddick of Bowling for Soup is bringing his solo country project to Fort Brewery & Pizza (2737 Tillar St, Fort Worth, 817-923-8000) at 6pm with special guest Julia Hatfield. This show is the third of four that he is playing in support of his debut album, Just Woke Up, a love letter to Texas. Tickets are $15 on TixR.com.
You’re invited to join James Van Der Beek — hopefully, he won’t cry — for a screening of the cult classic Varsity Blues at Tannahill’s Tavern & Music Hall (122 E Exchange St, Ste 200, Fort Worth, 817-900-9300) at 7pm. Tickets start at $40 on Ticketmaster.com.
Distinctive Events is hosting a Women’s Expo at the Grapevine Convention Center (1209 S Main St, Grapevine) on Sat, Aug 24, but you need to act today or sooner to participate. At the expo, vendors will share beauty tips and fashion trends and offer pop-up shopping. Business owners, if you would like to raise awareness of your brand, products, or services, there are still openings available. Email DistinctiveEvents5@gmail.com now.
Roanoke’s annual July 3 Independence Day Celebration at 500 S Oak St downtown (817-491-2242) is from 5pm to 10pm. This free family event features live music by Emerald City, a kids’ zone, a pie-eating competition, and more. A fireworks show will follow at 9:15pm. For more info, visit RoanokeTexas.com/250/ July-3rd-All-American-Fireworks-Festival.
By Jennifer Bovee
Don’t cry! Dawson himself, James Van Der Beek, will be at Tannahill’s in the Stockyards on Mon, Jul 1, for a screening of the cult classic Varsity Blues.
Emerald City will play the Independence Day Celebration in downtown Roanoke on Wed, Jul 3.
EATS & drinks
Third Places
Where can a WFH a-hole get some work-work done elsewhere in peace?
STORY AND PHOTO BY ANTHONY MARIANI
He bounced the mini-basketball off the floor. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Will you stop, please?” I raged from the recliner beside my dear 12-year-old in the living room.
“Gosh,” he replied, bounce, bounce. “I was ugly in that picture,” motioning with the ball toward the blown-up photo of our family hanging above the couch. “I was really ugly. Let me see how my mustache was doing.”
A. pressed his face up close to the image. “I had no acne. I had clear skin, and I had no mustache.”
I shifted in my seat, almost spilling my laptop onto the floor. “You have no mustache now.”
A. bounced the ball again, this time off the wall.
“You need to stop that now,” I snarled. “You’ll get the walls all dirty. That, and it’s annoying. Can’t you see I’m trying to work?”
“Mom’s constantly working, and right now you’re playing Mario Kart.”
“I haven’t played a video game since 1983 — what?”
A. bounced the ball off the floor. “It’s just frustrating circumstances. I need you to
understand that. I’m not energetic. I’m just mad. Freaking mad.”
He bounced the ball off the wall again.
“Dude!”
“I’m just mad, OK?” he cried. “I’m gonna throw this at your face.”
My eyes jumped from my head, and my body turned to steel.
And my wonderful, kind, sweet son A. bounced the ball off the face of mine in the photo.
“I gotta go,” I said, slamming my laptop shut, slamming my feet down, and slamming my body upright.
“Where you going?” I stormed past him. “I dunno.”
And I really didn’t. Where does a WFH a-hole parent married to another WFH parent who has to live with an a-hole WFH’er go when he wants to get some work-work done in peace?
As I was marching toward the bedroom to change, I heard my lovely wife banging around the laundry room. “... a married WFH a-hole parent who also has to get up every five minutes to do chores,” I should have said. I went on scuttling toward my dresser, head down, my footfalls soft.
Here were my options. Go to the office to work. The plus: I’m not dealing with stir-crazy, nonstop-talking seventh graders. The minus: I’m in an office. Pass. Some other plays: any number of the big-box restaurants out near us in Alliance (pass again), a Starbucks (feh), or someplace, anyplace in town. But it has to be quiet-ish, and it has to be comfortable, meaning you can work for an extended period of time and not feel compelled to buy something every 30 minutes to justify your seat.
“Then it’s settled!” as good ol’ Lord Grantham used to say. (R.I.P., Downton Abbey.) I dressed, grabbed my laptop and my keys, and backed out of the driveway all in one motion.
“Love ya, guys,” I whispered from the safety of the family Nissan Rogue my wife named Jovie (from Elf), now doing 90 down 35. “Miss ya. Mean it.”
Some co-workers had recommendations for me. Christina Berger suggested a few trusty locales, including the Central Market on Hulen.
continued on page 19
Good tunes, good vibe, good (N/A) brews, open early-ish — Nickel City could be your new third place.
“To specify,” she writes, “at Central Market, their downstairs cafe is chaos! I always go upstairs near where the cooking classes take place. There’s a balcony up there with some tables that’s far more peaceful.”
Christina also likes Buon Giorno downtown and the Whole Foods in Waterside. “BG,” the coffeeshop, she says, “also serves pastries and panini, so you can stay awhile. Whole Foods has a coffee bar and an entire premade food section to choose from. ... Neither are very quiet, but I like ambient noise when I’m writing.”
Laurie James feels there’s a “need” for “third spaces — a not-home/not-work place. Sociology has been pondering this for years. My 23-year-old had these in college. Now, she only has bars, and she wants something else. So, I truly miss Eurotazza on Camp Bowie for this purpose.”
The long-closed coffeeshop is where James wrote when her daughter was attending the Fort Worth Zoo’s preschool, and while Laurie says trying to be creative in coffeeshops is “pretty dicey because I feel I have to keep buying things to pay seat rent,” our chief food critic reports that Black Coffee across from Texas Wesleyan is “pretty peaceful after the morning rush.”
There’s also your local library, she adds. As for Buck D. Elliott, he says that down on Magnolia, Cherry Coffee, owned and operated by a fellow Horned Frog, is “fancy-ish and has a nice vibe.” Just like Buck!
Based on these suggestions and a quick Google search, Fort Worth also has some rent-an-offices in addition to all the usual coffeeshops and bars/restaurants. Once again, I wasn’t looking for an office setting. I’ve spent nearly all of my working life in an office. I’m done with that noise. I wanted a comfy, semi-quiet spot where I could sip on something — “coffee ‘til (N/A) cocktails, y’all!” — and maybe distract myself occasionally by looking up at the Copa on TV or by chatting with another living, breathing human being. Didn’t think I was asking for much.
After a quick stop at the Weekly offices to grab my mail (as always, lots of prisoners claiming they’re being railroaded), I found Jovie taking me in the direction of the Near Southside. Magnolia and SoMa have pretty much everything I was looking for. I just wondered if I would I find all my (meager) criteria in one single place.
On Main, I stopped and peeked inside Crude coffee. Way too packed. I hopped back inside Jovie and ended up at Nickel City, an undeniably cool spot that seems to import its crowd from lands far and wide through some kind of spacetime portal — I’ve imbibed at Nickel City a million times over the years and have run into a friend or acquaintance only once, which is definitely a me problem (parenthood zapped my socializing long ago) but is still weird. Just one person in — what? — five? six years? Except for the bartender and a couple other employees, Nickel City was empty, which really resonates because the place is so cavernous.
I plopped down in a corner booth with my N/A beer. Quiet. Peaceful. OK, not too bad.
I opened my laptop, cracked my knuckles, and started reading over a story of mine. Groove-oriented vintage R&B jived and funked through the air. OK, I’m definitely feeling this. No 12-year-olds literally bouncing off the walls. No inane, outright crazy conversations. No laundry. Not too bad.
About halfway through my story, a couple waltzed in. Surely, they’re not going to sit on this side of the bar. They ordered drinks and food at the counter and turned toward me. OK, this place is huge. There’s no way they’re going to sit anywhere over here. They kept coming. Closer and closer. Kerplunk. They not only sat on my side of the bar but in the booth right next to mine. Well, I mused, they may be sitting on my lap, but surely they’re not going to start talking loudly about work nonstop ...
In the process of finishing my Run Wild IPA (Athletic Brewing Co.) and ordering another, I perhaps not so slyly relocated to another corner booth somewhere near the center of the room. I forgot where I had left off on my story. As much as I love the Nickel, this was not doing it for me.
I polished off my second N/A, loaded up Jovie, and made my way to the only remotely comfortable, possibly quiet joint I could think of that was open at this time (around 2 p.m.).
With the demise of my forever third place, Lola’s Saloon/Fort Worth, the Chat Room Pub has become my go-to. The Chat carries a few N/A labels, plus some THC seltzers, and I sometimes run into good people here. I sauntered in, ordered a Howdy, and grabbed a chair at a high-top conveniently not too far from the bar counter. Whoosh! What the? Arctic blasts of air buffeted my head and torso from a vent
right above my head. Curling my lips, I moved to another high-top. The wintry weather followed me. And a third. At this point, I had accomplished maybe two or three emails and one read-through of my not-long story. This wasn’t doing it, either. I paid my tab, got back into Jovie, and, shoulders slumped, slunk back onto 35 headed toward home.
If you look up “third places,” most of your answers will involve exercise groups (*gag*), garage bands/bars/open-mics (not good for the sober/sober-curious), and virtual hobby meetings. Churches and libraries once served as third places, but with libraries cutting back or closing and a lot of us realizing Big Religion did more harm to us than good growing up, Laurie is right: There’s really not much.
Experts feel the only legitimate coping mechanism for us WFH worker bees desperate for some peace and quietude is better time management. Work when it’s work time, and bounce basketballs off the walls and admire nonexistent mustaches when it’s not. Do not respond to that nonurgent email when it’s basketball/mustache time. Like Michael Corleone’s family, work will only pull you back in!
Inside, the house was quiet — A. was on his iPad, and my wife looked contented watching the latest Skinwalker Ranch. (Holy shit, now there’s a cone of dark matter above the Triangle! Is this where Nickel City gets its regulars?) There was no guilt in my soul. I managed pretty much zero work on the town, but by escaping the house for a little, I was able to recalibrate, center, recharge. Now, all I’ve got to do is write this story. Somewhere. l
RIDGLEA THEATER
SAT 6/29
+SUN 6/30
THE HALFWAY HOUSE
FRI 7/26 MUCK STICKY AND BONZAI
SAT 7/27 A TRIBUTE TO THE GREATEST SHOWMAN & BROADWAY
FRI 8/2 SECRET NUMBER
RIDGLEA ROOM
FRI 7/26 LONESTAR LEGENDS EMO NITE
SAT 7/27 THE BOM BOM BOMS
RIDGLEA LOUNGE
UPCOMING SHOWS TBA
MUSIC
‘There’s More’ Now
With his big new album, young country stalwart Cory Cross blends humor with poignancy to pristine effect.
BY STEVE STEWARD
After more than a decade of playing dives and honkytonks across the United States, country troubadour Cory Cross has learned a few lessons, and now he’s unpacking them on There’s More, his new 14-track LP. Along with his band, the Burden, Cross reflects on a past colored by hard living and heartbreak, delivering his musings in a laconic drawl that lopes along with the Burden’s effortless brand of classic country and Western swing.
Recorded in October 2023 at Weatherford Junior College by Burden drummer Austin Choate — with executive production from legendary engineer Tim Kimsey (Steve Perry, Pantera, The Polyphonic Spree) — There’s More aims for the cozy studio vibes of the late ’70s, which gives Cross’ baritone a world-weary edge that complements his band’s laid-back, in-the-pocket performances. Other than the judicious application of some reverb and phaser effects here and there, the album’s clear, unfussy mix showcases a road band that doesn’t need a ton of takes to nail a track, nor months of gimmicky knob fiddling to make each note sound great.
The Burden, composed of Cross and Choate plus Kyle Farley on bass, Matthew Walton on slide guitar, and David Forsythe and William Wright on electric guitars, offers tasty licks and fills but ones that are
“Set
always in the service of the song, never stepping on a hook or getting in the way of Cross’ lyrics.
As a songwriter, Cross tells his stories with a wry sense of humor and the kinds of mundane, situational details that make a good tune turn into a movie in your brain. In the lead-off track (and first single) “100 Miles,” Cross muses about what he’s gotten himself into as a musician near the end of a tour, itching to get back to his sweetie.
“Set my cruise to 95 / $500 bucks split every night / We’ll make Dallas by 2 or 3 / I ain’t wearin’ boots for at least two weeks / I’ve got one more show, then I’m through / I got 100 miles to you.”
That song, along with “The Highway,” nestles in that well-worn pop music trope of The Road, where the loneliness, hassles, and dark nights of the soul that come with a rough-and-tumble, ramblin’ life are part of
what make the rough-and-tumble, ramblin’ life hard to put to rest.
Yet shelving some parts of that way of living is an undercurrent to these songs, which really makes them resonate. Cross used to party, and now he doesn’t, but moving on from whiskey and whatever else hasn’t always been easy — “Done Bein’ Good (For Good)” couches that struggle in a bouncy two-stepper. “Cryin’ in the Honky Tonk” is an ambling, tear-in-my-beer ballad reminiscent of Gary Stewart and King George. “Too Drunk to Swim” carries a funny story home in a wagon made of uptempo Texas swing. Those songs levy a lot of reminiscing about the bad parts of the good times and vice-versa, but it’s the hope and love and sense of trying to be good in tunes like “Make Malibu” and “Just Tonight” that herald the next phase of Cross’ life and career. The former imagines a romantic California vacation with his love that’s positively earnest in its desire to experience the moment with someone you’re crazy about, while in the latter, a duet with Cross’ fiancée Abby, he contemplates what the ring on a person’s finger really means when they’re at the bar. It’s a very real sentiment, and that’s what makes Cross’ tales hit the heart.
Where Cross is headed with his life and career sounds great, but There’s More is a soulful, funny account of where he’s been, told with gorgeous, classic country framing and tight, two-stepping grooves. l
Cory Cross used to party, and now he doesn’t, but moving on from whiskey and whatever else hasn’t always been easy.
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Cheba Hut has open interviews on Tuesdays from 9am to 9pm. “Join the dank side!” 1217 8th Ave Near Southside
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ACCOMMODATIONS
According to the New York Times, the following companies have said they would cover travel expenses for employees who need reproductive health services not available in Texas: Airbnb, DoorDash, JP Morgan Chase, Levi Strauss & Co, Netflix, Patagonia, Reddit, Starbucks, Tesla, and Yelp. Additionally, NowThis has listed the following companies also offering the same assistance to employees: Amazon, Apple, BuzzFeed, Citigroup, Comcast, Dick’s Sporting Goods, Lyft, Mastercard, Meta, Microsoft, Paramount, Sony, Tesla, Walt Disney Co, Vox Media, and Zillow. (JMB, FWW)
FAITH-BASED EVENTS
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COMMUNITY CHURCH
Located at 908 Pennsylvania Av (817335-3222), CCC has services on Sundays at 10am. Want to check out a nonjudgmental, inclusive church at home before attending in person? All services can also be viewed on YouTube (@ CelebrationCommunityChurch130).
POTTER’S HOUSE
Join the Potter’s House of Fort Worth (1270 Woodhaven Blvd, 817-446-1999) for Sunday Service at 8am and Wednesday Bible Study at 7pm. For more info, visit us online: www.TPHFW.org
HEALTH & WELLNESS
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Planned Parenthood Of Greater Texas
We’re not going anywhere. We know you may be feeling a lot of things right now, but we are here with you and we will not stop fighting for YOU. See 6 ways you can join the #BansOffOurBodies fight on FB @PPGreaterTX. For more info, go to: PPGreaterTX.org
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MIND / BODY / SPIRIT
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PET SERVICES FREE SPAY/NEUTER
Texas Coalition for Animal Protection has clinics near you. Schedule an appointment today. TexasForThem.org
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SERVICES
DORRANCE PUBLISHING
Book manuscript submissions currently being reviewed. Comprehensive services include consultation, production, promotion, and distribution. Call for your FREE Author`s Guide or visit DorranceInfo.com/FTWorth today. 1-866-256-0940.
DIRECTV
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Get coverage from Physicians Mutual Insurance for 350+ procedures. Real dental insurance, NOT just a discount plan. Do not wait! Call 1-888-361-7095 or go online now for a FREE Dental Info Kit. Dental50plus.com/fortworth #6258. (MB)
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EMPLOYMENT
DevSecOps Engineer at American Specialty Health Inc. in Fort Worth, TX will provide technical support to development teams through system administration and managing web/network related projects as assigned by manager. This is a remote position from anywhere in the United States (except for CT, DE, HI, IL, ME, MT, NV, NJ, NY, PA, Portland OR, Puerto Rico, RI, Washington, DC). Telecommuting permitted as business needs allow, reporting to the Fort Worth office. Salary: $120,328 - $150,000 per year. Position requires a Bachelor’s degree in Computer Engineering, Information Technology, Electronic Engineering, or a directly related field, plus 4 years of experience in a software developer occupation or related occupation. The 4 years of experience must include 4 years of experience with each of the following: (1) development operations and cloud engineering; (2) cloud services architecture, technical design, and implementations, including IaaS, PaaS, and SaaS; (3) CI/CD tools, including Azure DevOps; (4) writing PowerShell and YAML scripts; (5) infrastructure as code tool, including terraform azure bicep; (6) managing SSL/TLS certificates and BIG-IP F5 LTM load balancing. Interested candidates must email resumes to hr@ashn.com and reference job code 290. #LI-DNI #LI-NDI #LI-DNP
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HAPPY FOURTH-of-JULY!
Got plans? Check out pages 12 to 13.
HISTORIC RIDGLEA THEATER
THE RIDGLEA is three great venues within one historic Fort Worth landmark. RIDGLEA THEATER has been restored to its authentic allure, recovering unique Spanish-Mediterranean elements. It is ideal for large audiences and special events. RIDGLEA ROOM and RIDGLEA LOUNGE have been making some of their own history, as connected adjuncts to RIDGLEA THEATER, or hosting their own smaller shows and gatherings. More at theRidglea.com
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PUBLIC NOTICE
The following vehicles have been impounded with fees due to date by Texas Towing Wrecker, 205 S Commercial St, Fort Worth TX 76107, 817-877-0206 (VSF0000964): ATV, 2021 Model 223, L7WSCJL33MC002302, $682.50; Great Dane, 2019 Trailer, 1GRAA0625KW100790, $8069.07; Hyundai Translead, 2022 Trailers, 3H3V532K0NS797201, $421.05; John Deere, 1T0310ELHJG344599, 2020 Back Hoe, $1183.07; Kearney, 2006 20ft Trailer, 5LCJF202761001856, $693.03; Trailers, 2018, 123556, $753.03; and Tahoe, 2011 Q4 SS, BUJ60344B111, $418.41.
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