This beloved Las Vegas artist is known for drawings, paintings, performances, sculptures and collages, questioning the traditional roles and expectations of women. But her work goes deeper than her solo creations. In addition to founding the collaborative project Settlers + Nomads, Kveck is an educator, an organizer and, importantly, an arts advocate.

Five months after closing because of the coronavirus pandemic, the Marjorie Barrick Museum of Art at UNLV is set to reopen on Monday with new safety procedures and new exhibitions.

In the U.S., about $300 million of CARES Act funding has gone to the arts. (Nevada’s share has been just over $800,000, and some arts businesses here have also qualified for other forms of aid, such as PPP funding.)

The politics don’t swarm out at you from Nanda Sharifpour’s installation One, on view in a large corner window of Soho Lofts, Las Vegas Boulevard and Hoover Avenue. A six-line poem, rendered in English and Farsi and backlit by bright, changing colors, One offers its commentary quietly, by induction; if you prefer political art delivered like a sack of doorknobs, walk nine minutes to Main Street for Izaac Zevalking’s mural Chain Migration (Lady Liberty bent over the hood of an ICE vehicle).

A look at creativity in a time of stress, in two parts.

Our country might still be mired in pandemic-born states of social isolation, but on the walls of Core Contemporary gallery in the Historic Commercial Center District, 20 artists meet in visual conversation. The occasion? The gallery’s second annual national juried art show, Use Other Door.

The open-air spaces, soft colors, and diffused natural light at First Place Apartments in Phoenix and the Delores Project in Denver could transfer to almost any contemporary residential space. Their welcoming tones demonstrate a mass appeal. More important, though, those design elements also offer a lifeline to traumatized individuals trying to gain a foothold on life.

Like many other New Yorkers, I have spent more than three months holed up inside a tiny apartment. As much as I love my city, I can’t help but daydream about what it would be like to have my own home: specifically, my own historic home with plenty of period-specific details. That’s where the Cheap Old Houses Instagram account comes into the picture.

Like many other New Yorkers, I have spent more than three months holed up inside a tiny apartment. As much as I love my city, I can’t help but daydream about what it would be like to have my own home: specifically, my own historic home with plenty of period-specific details. That’s where the Cheap Old Houses Instagram account comes into the picture.

As much as Elizabeth Yuko loves her city, she can’t help but daydream about what it would be like to have her own home: specifically, her own historic home with plenty of period-specific details. That’s where the Cheap Old Houses Instagram account comes into the picture.

On Oct. 9, 1986, at the height of anti-gay hysteria during the AIDS crisis, a biracial gay couple from Reno, Nev., made a remarkable announcement: They were going to create what some called “a gay homeland” in the Nevada desert.

People are returning to work as Southern Nevada relaxes COVID-19 restrictions.