Most of us have done the weekend getaway to some fun destination, and recently the 36 hours in wherever has been the travel writers’ go-to time period for a quick exploration. But can any place be experienced in just 12 hours? Is that enough time for even the most cursory introduction to any locale?

This is the question I set out to answer when I received a very unusual invite: Dinner and a show (of great contemporary art) in Marfa, Texas.

The Invitation

Kit and Ace, the men and women’s clothing line specializing in luxury casual wear, makes it a practice to host regular supper clubs for local creative types. With a store each in Austin, Dallas and Houston already, they thought it time for a kind of Texas roundup dinner party in one of the most creative and eclectic towns in the state, Marfa.

In some casual comfort meets luxury branding synergy, Kit and Ace partnered with Rise, the private-flight sharing company, to fly their dinner guests to Marfa. Suddenly, that eight-hour Houston to Marfa driving trip, or long flight to El Paso or Midland plus three hour drive turned into an easy two hour flight –– with a stop in Austin –– into the Marfa Municipal Airport, which has not one but two actual paved runways.

If you too can hitch a ride on a nice private plane, 12 hours to discover Marfa becomes almost doable.

Walking Through Art

Stepping off the plane directly into that stark West Texas landscape, I understood why Donald Judd, the master 20th century Minimalist (though he resisted the M term) became drawn to such infinite horizons. Judd pretty much put Marfa on the art map, and so his Chinati Foundation collection was the first stop of our pre-dinner tour.

The museum, located on the former site of Fort D.A. Russell, felt like what would happen, and did, when a desert cavalry and air base gets invaded by modern art. Chinati was originally created to house large works of Judd, John Chamberlain and Dan Flavin, but it also shows, outdoors and in the old army barracks, special exhibitions and permanent installations from artists like Caul Andre, Richard Long and Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen.

I first walked through two huge and renovated old artillery sheds housing Judd’s 100 untitled works in mill aluminum. The sunlight spilling through the enormous glass walls lit up the thick polished aluminum sculptures so they looked like giant boxes within boxes of blazing silver.

We were soon drawn out into the West Texas air to play in the light and shadows of Judd’s immense rectangular concrete structures that make a kind of border between Chinati and the rest of the world. The works, which Judd produced in the early 1980s, seemed somehow both ancient and new, like I was reaching out to touch some Minimalist Stonehenge.

But since we were all wearing Kit and Ace shirts, and our supper club party contained several Texas photographers including Kelly Sparks and Matt Crump, the art admiring evolved slightly into a bit of a fashion shoot.

After my short, first and last stint as a T-shirt model, we all headed into Marfa proper for more artistic sights.

The Streets of Marfa

We next hit the Ballroom Marfa, a 1920s dancehall converted into a visual and performing arts space. I felt an affinity to their current exhibition Äppärät, a group show inspired by Gary Shteyngart’s 2010 comic dystopian novel Super Sad True Love Story because I had interviewed the author a few years ago. Then it was on to Marfa Contemporary, for another exhibition.

I don’t know if it’s all back to Judd’s influence but the art spaces of Marfa appeared to love the clean, white walls and lots of room between works.

After our scheduled gallery and museum viewing, it was nice to have a little time to meander through the quiet downtown streets. I wandered into the Marfa Book Company Shop, warmed up with some delicious hot chocolate from the Do Your Thing coffeehouse, and happened upon the historic Hotel Paisano, where Liz, Rock, James and crew lived during the filming of Giant. (Downtown Marfa is so concentrated with amazing art, history, and architecture, it’s pretty easy to happen upon something famous or iconic on every block.)

Trying to pack our explorations into half-a-day, we did miss out on some important galleries and shops that might have given us a more complete feel for the town. We also didn’t have time to make the 45 minute drive out to the Prada installation.

Dinner in the Desert

The fall twilight soon called us onto the main course of this taste of Marfa, the supper club. Even dinner had a funky vibe, an elegant, catered (by Marfa Table) affair in a tent at El Cosmico, the 21-acre nomadic hotel and campground. Overnight guests can BYOT (bring your own tent) or rent a tepee, trailer or yurt for the night. I’ve never had such a campground-chic dining experience.

The table conversation, spurred on by the Kit and Ace Real Talk Cards each asking a single profound to silly question about mortality, relationships, politics or just my most embarrassing workout song, was none too shabby either with Rise founder Nick Kennedy and Live Strong CEO Chandini Portteus among the guests.

After dinner, it was time to head back home. As we once again took to the air and I gazed out the plane window into the night looking for those mysterious Marfa lights, I realized my trip had taught me three important lessons:

1. Even though I’m a Houston swampland girl, there’s much beauty in those high desert horizons.
2. While 12 hours will give you an enticing taste of a town, it’s not quite enough to truly savor it.
3. And this one is mostly addressed to Santa: Baby, I’ve been a awfully good girl this year and totally deserve, if not my own plane, then at least membership in a flight sharing club.

No dancing at Ballroom Marfa, but plenty of art.

Photo by Tarra Gaines

No dancing at Ballroom Marfa, but plenty of art.