There is a certain charge that comes when artists insist that the stuff of daily life, its toys, its rituals, its messes, belongs on the same stage as monuments and masterpieces.
If you’ve ever wanted to watch molten glass stretch and curl into a goblet while an opera aria drifts through the autumn air, Fort Worth has just the weekend for you.
In Timothy Harding’s paintings, there’s a kind of friction at play, a low hum between precision and improvisation, between gesture and grid, between what is seen and what is suggested.
This fall, Dallas once again becomes a crossroads of Latinx voices as Cara Mía Theatre launches its 2025–26 season with the sixth-annual Latinidades Festival & Symposium.
If you’ve ever wanted to watch molten glass stretch and curl into a goblet while an opera aria drifts through the autumn air, Fort Worth has just the weekend for you.
This fall, Dallas once again becomes a crossroads of Latinx voices as Cara Mía Theatre launches its 2025–26 season with the sixth-annual Latinidades Festival & Symposium.
The three witches in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, nursing their cauldron of toil and trouble, rank among the most chilling characters ever set loose onstage. Imagine what might happen if they found an apprentice to carry on their dark arts.
This fall, Dallas once again becomes a crossroads of Latinx voices as Cara Mía Theatre launches its 2025–26 season with the sixth-annual Latinidades Festival & Symposium.
