A friend of a friend summed up people who love West Texas as, "The Big Cloud Appreciation Society." He made a documentary about this that you should see.
I love the clouds, but Marfa comes down to three things for me: the font, the
light, and the stars. Well, I guess those three things and the weird people who
want to make their living under the good signs, good light, and good stars.
I’m serious, though, about the font. Every single sign in
the city is perfect. Some cities have proud architectural histories; Marfa has
a glorious heritage of typesetting.
Then there’s the light. Marfa has that unique combination of amazing,
amazing light and low rent that makes a place irresistible to artists and
low-budget vacationers alike. Think of
Normandy for the Impressionists, or Harlem during its Renaissance (only in that
case the lights were gas, but just as magical).
People from out of town used to only hear of this tiny west
Texas town for the “Marfa Lights.” The
mysterious up-and-down, side-to-side bokeh of unknown origin out that you can
see from Route 90 are indeed a wonder. But if you don’t lay back and look up in
the dark for a long time while you’re waiting for glimpses, you’re missing the
real show. How long is it since you’ve seen the Milky Way and thought, “Is that a cloud?” I thought so.
I go out to Marfa every August, and this surprises people
who know Marfa’s in the desert. Thing
is, it’s a mile high, and it’s dry. Wind
keeps the place feeling refreshed all the time, and when it’s really hot, you
can drive down the pass to Balmorhea and dive into a 40-foot natural
pool. It’s like Barton Springs, but with turtles. I love it. I don’t
think there’s anywhere better to be in Texas in the awful dead heat of the
summer.
After the jump is a list of Amarillo Girls recommendations for a Marfa trip. The main thing is to be quiet, open your eyes, and pay attention. And if you run into Julie Speed, don't take a picture of her bike. She doesn't like that.