My first trip to Marfa is what made me fall in love with West Texas. It was 2009 and I hadn’t experienced the slow dolly zoom of those straight-as-an-arrow roads in my 20 something years living in Texas.
Through five decades, this small section of Texas was taken over by artists and used, in a conscious manner, for its isolation and landscapes. It’s a wonderful experience to drive through miles of rocky pre-desert off an interstate to arrive at a town where an enormous late Warhol piece hangs a stone throw from the county courthouse.
By the time I visited, Marfa was already a force. Donald Judd had strewn his boxes about and the Prada store had existed, it just didn’t have Instagram and Beyonce. Over the years that I have come back, it slowly morphed into a tiny town with a hotel plucked out of SoHo, artisanal cocktail bitters, and possibly the worst Dairy Queen in the country.
While the town emits this varied vibe that is fun to take in and participate within, it’s beginning to feel like a West Texas town themed glamping complex.
Full disclosure: I bought the artisanal cocktail bitters.
All shots in this post were made using a Sony A7Rii and Voigtlander 40mm f/1.2