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I think the thing that catapulted Houston was when we all realized that we didn’t have to take five flights to get out of Texas—that we could actually get on a jet at Hobby, even, and get to New York on just one flight instead of having to go to New Orleans on a crop plane or bus or something. Houston was beginning to surface a bit more in the national consciousness in the art world.
I recall in 1960 I had friends come down from Chicago and I had to pick them up at the train in Dallas and then drive on to Houston. We were about 40 miles outside Dallas coming down the highway and they said, “How long is it going to be before we’re in Houston?” When I said about five hours, they couldn’t believe it. “Well where is Houston?” they wanted to know. I said, “Haven’t you ever looked on a map?” They thought it was close to Dallas because they’d heard about Dallas because of Neiman Marcus. So we finally got here and they loved it, and of course it’s very different. I would visit with friends in those early years in New York and in Chicago—artist friends—and they would say, “You live in Texas? Where in Texas?”
By the time I got [to Houston] anyone could come and do anything, but there was a real attention, at least in my circle, for those things that were unique. When we saw Forrest Bess, we knew this was unique. And if I had known you could have bought a Forrest Bess painting then for $15 I would have bought 20. I thought they were like $200 and $300 and I couldn’t pull that off—but that’s like everything else: You need to ask. I was always the shy one—I wouldn’t ask. I could have ordered two plates less of oysters and had a Forrest Bess hanging on my wall right now, which would be thrilling.
All of that tied together with John and Dominique de Menil, what was happening at St. Thomas, the print club—once again, we could have gotten those beautiful things for nothing—and later the Rice episode and a certain kind of avant garde. It was high times…high art…really good art.
I have always loved to live in Houston. I mean, I like the climate, I like the people. I’m happy to continue to live here. It’s a great place to work; I have been fortunate in that I can do my work and show it now in my house. I’ve been most fortunate. The idea of moving has never been interesting to me.
The thing I found right away about Houston is that the people in the art community were very generous and they would bring you in and they would introduce you around. They would introduce you to collector friends and everyone knew each other. It was not uncommon to have the simplest little coffee party or cocktail party after the Museum or something, and you would have both James Sweeney and Jermayne MacAgy in this house at the same time. All the most interesting kinds of people that you would want to see [were] together and talking freely about what [they]were doing and what other people were doing. It was really very exciting.
It reminded me a little bit of what I guess bright young geologists or engineers would [experience when they] come to town, and they would get a connection with someone up at Humble or Shell and they’d say, “Come on out—we’re going to the ranch for the weekend and we’re going to introduce you to everybody you need to know.” So it’s up to you tosay hello and do your job and do it well, and go for it. And they will support you.
Richard Stout was interviewed on February 23, 2006. You can listen to the interview here .
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