One of the first works to command attention in Robert Leroy Hodge’s Frequency exhibition is Summer in the City (2026), a sprawling mixed-media composition that stretches across Redbud Arts Center’s gallery wall like a musical score in motion. Circular forms punctuate the surface, bands of color surge from one side to the other, and layered portraits emerge from paint, collage, and distressed materials. At opposite ends, legendary composer and producer Quincy Jones appears conducting, as though orchestrating the vibrant composition unfolding between his gestures. The piece feels rhythmic rather than static—translating sound into texture, movement, and memory.

There is no orchestra in sight, yet the work seemds to hum.

Located in Houston’s Heights neighborhood, Redbud Arts Center is home to Frequency, an exhibition drawing on musicians, cultural histories, and creative influences that have shaped generations of sound. During my first visit, I moved slowly through the gallery, taking in the artwork and speaking with executive director and curator Tanja Peterson. The following evening, I returned for the accompanying Jazz x Classical event, experiencing the relationship between the artwork and live music firsthand.

With roots as a commercial gallery dating to 1999, Redbud now operates as a nonprofit, expanding its commitment to community engagement and emerging artists under Peterson’s leadership.

For Peterson, the appeal of Hodge’s multidisciplinary practice lies in its breadth, depth, and storytelling.

“He tells a story. I love that about his work,” she said.

Viewers can appreciate the compositions for their colors and arrangements alone, she explained, but spending more time with them—or learning the stories behind them—reveals additional layers. As our conversation unfolded, we began considering how an artwork might change with each encounter. A detail initially overlooked may suddenly command attention, while a familiar song may offer a new way of understanding an image. In turn, that image can send us back to the music with a deeper appreciation for the artistry and the people behind it.

In Got till it’s Gone Is Gone, Ummah Jay Dee’s, music producer J Dilla occupies a place of prominence within a six-foot-square assemblage, his portrait enclosed in an ornate gold frame near the top center. Around him, familiar faces emerge from a colorful patchwork of vinyl record sleeves and found objects. Among them are D’Angelo, Erykah Badu, Q-Tip, Busta Rhymes, Janet Jackson, and Common, whose portraits trace a network of musical collaborations.

Yet the figure given such prominence was the one I knew least about.

For years, I had listened to J Dilla’s music through my Robert Glasper station on Pandora without knowing his face. Peterson introduced me to the Detroit-born producer’s image, opening a conversation about his life and musical legacy.

Dilla’s inventive approach to rhythm and sampling helped shape hip-hop and neo-soul. He died in 2006 at just 32, having continued to create music during periods of serious illness. His instrumental album Donuts was released three days before his death.

The more I learned about Dilla, the more Hodge’s composition began to resemble a map of musical influence rather than a collection of portraits. Much like a producer sampling existing recordings, Hodge brings fragments of musical history together in a different medium. What began as an appreciation for Dilla’s music became a curiosity about the creative relationships surrounding him.

And then there was Houston.

In Without the Don, You Wouldn’t Be Peacocking, Hodge similarly places music entrepreneur Don Robey’s portrait within an ornate frame, this time against a predominantly black backdrop layered with photographs, record labels, and found objects. References to Duke and Peacock Records emerge throughout, opening a window into a chapter of Houston’s musical history I knew little about.

Robey founded Peacock Records in 1949, a decade before Motown, and later acquired Duke Records. His Houston-based recording enterprise helped carry blues, gospel, and rhythm and blues far beyond Texas, with a roster that included Big Mama Thornton and Bobby “Blue” Bland. His contributions to Black music entrepreneurship were significant, though his legacy was complicated by controversial business practices.

Through Hodge’s work, the history of Houston’s recording industry becomes something tangible—a collection of images, labels, and objects that encourages us to consider the people behind the music.

At Redbud’s Jazz x Classical event, the music moved beyond the canvas. A jazz trio from Houston’s High School for the Performing and Visual Arts (HSPVA), Hodge’s alma mater, performed surrounded by his artwork. Their presence created a connection between generations of artistic talent, bringing young musicians into the creative space of someone who had once walked the same school halls.

The students captivated me with their confidence, musical sensitivity, and remarkable command of their instruments. Alongside TAMBRE from the Community Music Center of Houston and DJ Ingrid, they filled the gallery with live music.

The performances did more than provide a soundtrack. Works that had seemed quiet during my first visit now felt alive with movement, as though the music had awakened rhythms already present within Hodge’s compositions.

The exhibition had not changed between my visits, but my relationship with it had.

In Frequency, looking becomes a form of listening, and listening becomes an invitation to look again.

Robert Leroy Hodge: Frequency is now on view through October 31st, 2026 at Redbud Arts Center.

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