Never knew this place existed. Let alone in Texas.
"By the time of the Rothko Chapel (he killed himself before its unveiling), the strata have emptied out—not only of forms, but of color, too. With those black-on-black, death-dealing rectangles (he found them a “torment” to produce), Rothko was explicitly aiming for “something you don’t want to look at.” Which is one way of accounting for their emotional power: like memento mori, they lead us to an intolerable, yet necessary place. (via Man vs. Corpse by Zadie Smith | The New York Review of Books)