artists

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If our waking hours are a canvas, the art is how one fills it: tightly packed, loosely, a little of both. At a time when they were both 40 and the art scene in ’70s New York was in thrall to street-centered youth of all stripes, real-life writer Linda Rosenkrantz asked her close friend, photographer Peter Hujar, to make a record of his activities on one day — Dec. 18, 1974 — and then narrate those details into her tape recorder the following day at her apartment.

The goal was a book about the great mundane, the stuff of life as experienced by her talented confidants. In Hujar’s case, an uncannily observant queer artist and key gay liberation figure planning his first book, what emerged was a wry narrative of phone calls (Susan Sontag), freelancing woes (is this gig going to pay?), celebrity encounters (he does an Allen Ginsberg shoot for the New York Times) and chance meetings (some guy waiting for food at the Chinese restaurant). The Hujar transcript, recovered in 2019 sans the tape, was ultimately published as “Peter Hujar’s Day.”

Now director Ira Sachs, who came across the text while filming his previous movie “Passages,” has given this quietly mesmerizing, diaristic conversation cinematic life as a filmed performance of sorts, with “Passages” star Ben Whishaw perfectly cast as Hujar and Rebecca Hall filling out the room tone as Rosenkrantz. (They also go to the roof a couple of times, which offers enough of an exterior visual to remind us that New York is the third character getting the time-capsule treatment.)

From the whistle of a tea kettle in the daylight as Hujar amusingly feels out from Rosenkrantz what’s required of him, to twilight’s more honest self-assessments and a supine cuddle between friends who’ve spent many hours together, “Peter Hujar’s Day” captures something beautifully distilled about human experience and the comfort of others. For each of us, any given day — maybe especially a day devoid of the extraordinary — is the culmination of all we’ve been and whatever we might hope to be. That makes for a stealthy significance considering that Hujar would only live another 13 years, succumbing to AIDS-related complications in 1987. It was a loss of mentorship, aesthetic brilliance and camaraderie felt throughout the art world.

Apart from not explaining Hujar for us (nor explaining his many name drops), Sachs also doesn’t hide the meta-ness of his concept, occasionally offering glimpses of a clapperboard or the crew, or letting us hear sound blips as it appears a reel is ending. There are jump cuts too, and interludes of his actors in close-up that could be color screen tests or just a nod to Hujar’s aptitude for portraits. It’s playful but never too obtrusive, approaching an idea of how art and movies play with time and can conjure their own reality.

The simple, sparsely elegant split-level apartment creates the right authenticity for Alex Ashe’s textured 16mm cinematography. The interior play of light from day to night across Whishaw and Hall’s faces is its own dramatic arc as Hujar’s details become an intimate testimony of humor, rigor and reflection. It’s not meant to be entirely Whishaw’s show, either: As justly compelling as he is, Hall makes the act of listening (and occasionally commenting or teasing) a steady, enveloping warmth. The result is a window into the pleasures of friendship and those days when the minutiae of your loved ones seems like the stuff that true connection is built on.

Somehow in Los Angeles, everything comes back to traffic.

While making their works featured in the Hammer Museum’s Made in L.A. biennial, artists Patrick Martinez, Freddy Villalobos and Gabriela Ruiz set out to capture the essence of the city’s crammed streets through different lenses.

For over a decade, the Hammer has curated its Made in L.A. series to feature artists who grapple with the realities of living and making art here. It’s an art show that simultaneously pays homage to legacy L.A. artists like Alonzo Davis and Judy Baca, and gives a platform to newer faces such as Lauren Halsey and Jackie Amezquita.

This year’s show, which opened last month, features 28 artists. As part of that cohort, Martinez, Villalobos and Ruiz bring their lived experiences as Latinos from L.A. to the West Side art institution, drawing inspiration from the landscapes of their upbringing.

While creating their displayed works, Martinez took note of the many neon signs hanging in stores’ windows, leading him to make “Hold the Ice,” an anti-ICE sign, and incorporate bright pink lights into his outdoor cinder block mural, “Battle of the City on Fire.” With flashing lights and a shuttered gate tacked onto a painted wooden panel, Ruiz drew on her experiences exploring the city at night and the over-surveillance of select neighborhoods in the interactive piece, “Collective Scream.” Villalobos filmed Figueroa Street from a driver’s perspective, observing the street’s nighttime activity and tracing the energy that surrounds the place where soul singer Sam Cooke was shot.

This year, Made in L.A. doesn’t belong to a specific theme or a title — but as always, the selected art remains interconnected. These three artists sat down with De Los to discuss how their L.A. upbringing has influenced their artistic practice and how their exhibited works are in conversation. Made in L.A. will be on view until March 1, 2026.

The following conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.

All three of you seem to put a spotlight on various elements of L.A.’s public spaces. How is your art affected by your surroundings?

Ruiz: I really got to explore L.A. as a whole, through partying and going out at night. I prefer seeing this city at night, because there isn’t so much traffic. That’s how I started my art practice. I would perform in queer nightlife spaces and throw parties in cheap warehouses. With my commute from the Valley, I would notice so much. I wouldn’t speed through the freeway. I’d instead take different routes, so I’d learn to navigate the whole city without a GPS and see things differently.

Martinez: That’s also how I started seeing neons. I had a studio in 2006 in downtown, off 6th and Alameda. I would wait for traffic to fade because I was staying in Montebello at the time. I would drive down Whittier Boulevard at night. And you see all the neon signs that have a super saturated color and glow bright. I thought about its messaging. None of the businesses were open that late. They were just letting people know they were there.

Ruiz: Specifically in this piece [“Collective Scream”], there’s a blinking street lamp. It reminds me of when I would leave raves and would randomly see this flickering light. It’s this hypnotizing thing that I would observe and take note of whenever I was on the same route. There’s also a moving gate, [in my piece,] that resembles the ones you see when you’re driving late at night and everything’s gated up.

Villalobos: You do experience a lot of L.A. from your car. It’s a cliche. But f— it. It’s true. When I moved out of L.A., I felt a little odd. I missed the bubble of my car. You can have what seems to be a private moment in your car in a city that’s packed with traffic and so many people. It made me think about what that means, what kind of routes people are taking and how we cultivate community.

It’s interesting that you all found inspiration in the biggest complaints about L.A. Maybe there’s something to think about when it comes to the way those born here think of car culture and traffic.

Martinez: I see its effects even with the landscapes I make. I’ll work from left to right, and that’s how we all look at the world when we drive. I always think about Michael Mann movies when I’m making landscapes, especially at night. He has all those moments of quiet time of being in the car and just focusing on what’s going on.

Beyond surveying the streets, your works touch on elements of the past. There’s a common notion that L.A. tends to disregard its past, like when legacy restaurants shut down or when architectural feats get demolished. Does this idea play any role in your work?

Martinez: The idea of L.A. being ashamed of its past pushed me to work with cinder blocks [in “Battle of the City on Fire”]. One of the main reasons was to bring attention to the East Los Streetscapers, the muralists who painted in East L.A. [in the 1960s and ‘70s as a part of the Chicano Mural Movement]. There was this one mural in Boyle Heights that was painted at a Shell gas station. It was later knocked down and in the demolition pictures, the way the cinder blocks were on the floor looked like a sculptural painting. It prompted me to use cinder blocks as a form of sculpture and think about what kind of modern-day ruins we pass by.

Villalobos: Speaking about L.A. as a whole feels almost too grand for me. But if I think about my specific neighborhood, in South Central, what comes to my mind is Black Radical Tradition. It’s where people are able to make something out of what other people might perceive as nothing. There’s always something that’s being created and mixed and mashed together to make something that, to me, is beautiful. It’s maybe not as beautiful to other people, but it’s still a new and creative way to see things and understand what comes before us.

Ruiz: Seeing my parents, who migrated to this country, come from nothing and start from scratch ties into that idea too. Seeing what they’ve been able to attain, and understanding how immigrants can start up businesses and restaurants here, speaks so much to what L.A. is really about. It’s about providing an opportunity that everybody has.

So it’s less about disregarding the past and more about making something out of nothing?

Martinez: It ties back to necessity, for me. Across this city, people come together by doing what they need to do to pay rent. It’s a crazy amount of money to be here. People need to regularly adjust what they do to survive. Recently, I’ve been seeing that more rapidly. There are more food vendors and scrolling LED signs, advertising different things. Once you understand how expensive this backdrop can be, that stuff sits with me.

We’ve talked a lot about how the past affects L.A. and the role it plays in your art. Does a future L.A. ever cross your mind?

Villalobos: I feel very self-conscious about what I’m gonna say. But as much as I love L.A. and as much as it helped me become who I am, I wouldn’t be too mad with it falling apart. A lot of people from my neighborhood have already been moving to Lancaster, Palmdale and the Inland Empire. When I go to the IE, it feels a little like L.A. and I’m not necessarily mad at that.

Ruiz: It’s really difficult to see what the future holds for anybody. Even with art, what’s going to happen? I don’t know. It’s really challenging to see a future when there’s a constant cycle of bad news about censorship and lack of funding.

Martinez: It’s murky. It’s clouded. This whole year has been so heavy, and everyone talking about it adds to it, right? We’re facing economic despair, and it’s all kind of heavy. Who knows what the future will hold? But there are definitely moves being made by the ruling class to make it into something.

Chatbot builder Anthropic agreed to pay $1.5 billion to authors in a landmark copyright settlement that could redefine how artificial intelligence companies compensate creators.

The San Francisco-based startup is ready to pay authors and publishers to settle a lawsuit that accused the company of illegally using their work to train its chatbot.

Anthropic developed an AI assistant named Claude that can generate text, images, code and more. Writers, artists and other creative professionals have raised concerns that Anthropic and other tech companies are using their work to train their AI systems without their permission and not fairly compensating them.

As part of the settlement, which the judge still needs to be approve, Anthropic agreed to pay authors $3,000 per work for an estimated 500,000 books. It’s the largest settlement known for a copyright case, signaling to other tech companies facing copyright infringement allegations that they might have to pay rights holders eventually as well.

Meta and OpenAI, the maker of ChatGPT, have also been sued over alleged copyright infringement. Walt Disney Co. and Universal Pictures have sued AI company Midjourney, which the studios allege trained its image generation models on their copyrighted materials.

“It will provide meaningful compensation for each class work and sets a precedent requiring AI companies to pay copyright owners,” said Justin Nelson, a lawyer for the authors, in a statement. “This settlement sends a powerful message to AI companies and creators alike that taking copyrighted works from these pirate websites is wrong.”

Last year, authors Andrea Bartz, Charles Graeber and Kirk Wallace Johnson sued Anthropic, alleging that the company committed “large-scale theft” and trained its chatbot on pirated copies of copyrighted books.

U.S. District Judge William Alsup of San Francisco ruled in June that Anthropic’s use of the books to train the AI models constituted “fair use,” so it wasn’t illegal. But the judge also ruled that the startup had improperly downloaded millions of books through online libraries.

Fair use is a legal doctrine in U.S. copyright law that allows for the limited use of copyrighted materials without permission in certain cases, such as teaching, criticism and news reporting. AI companies have pointed to that doctrine as a defense when sued over alleged copyright violations.

Anthropic, founded by former OpenAI employees and backed by Amazon, pirated at least 7 million books from Books3, Library Genesis and Pirate Library Mirror, online libraries containing unauthorized copies of copyrighted books, to train its software, according to the judge.

It also bought millions of print copies in bulk and stripped the books’ bindings, cut their pages and scanned them into digital and machine-readable forms, which Alsup found to be in the bounds of fair use, according to the judge’s ruling.

In a subsequent order, Alsup pointed to potential damages for the copyright owners of books downloaded from the shadow libraries LibGen and PiLiMi by Anthropic.

Although the award was massive and unprecedented, it could have been much worse, according to some calculations. If Anthropic were charged a maximum penalty for each of the millions of works it used to train its AI, the bill could have been more than $1 trillion, some calculations suggest.

Anthropic disagreed with the ruling and didn’t admit wrongdoing.

“Today’s settlement, if approved, will resolve the plaintiffs’ remaining legacy claims,” said Aparna Sridhar, deputy general counsel for Anthropic, in a statement. “We remain committed to developing safe AI systems that help people and organizations extend their capabilities, advance scientific discovery, and solve complex problems.”

The Anthropic dispute with authors is one of many cases where artists and other content creators are challenging the companies behind generative AI to compensate for the use of online content to train their AI systems.

Training involves feeding enormous quantities of data — including social media posts, photos, music, computer code, video and more — to train AI bots to discern patterns of language, images, sound and conversation that they can mimic.

Some tech companies have prevailed in copyright lawsuits filed against them.

In June, a judge dismissed a lawsuit authors filed against Facebook parent company Meta, which also developed an AI assistant, alleging that the company stole their work to train its AI systems. U.S. District Judge Vince Chhabria noted that the lawsuit was tossed because the plaintiffs “made the wrong arguments,” but the ruling didn’t “stand for the proposition that Meta’s use of copyrighted materials to train its language models is lawful.”

Trade groups representing publishers praised the Anthropic settlement on Friday, noting it sends a big signal to tech companies that are developing powerful artificial intelligence tools.

“Beyond the monetary terms, the proposed settlement provides enormous value in sending the message that Artificial Intelligence companies cannot unlawfully acquire content from shadow libraries or other pirate sources as the building blocks for their models,” said Maria Pallante, president and chief executive of the Association of American Publishers in a statement.

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

Hello, this is De Los reporter Carlos De Loera. I will be taking over the Latinx Files for the next couple of months while Fidel is on parental leave. I hope I do him justice!

“No me quiero ir de aquí.”

It’s more than just the name of Bad Bunny’s months-long Puerto Rico concert residency; it’s a radical declaration against colonialism and gentrification, as well as a defiant call for cultural preservation and celebration.

This week the U.S. federal government exercised another overreach of power over Puerto Rico, when the Trump administration dismissed five out of seven members of Puerto Rico’s federal control board that oversees the U.S. territory’s finances. All of the fired board members belonged to the Democratic Party; the remaining two members are Republicans.

As other parts of the Spanish-speaking world grapple with being priced out of their own communities, and a watering down of their long-standing cultures, artists in Puerto Rico are using their work to give visitors a not-so-gentle reminder: No one can kick them out of their own home.

Last week, the Latinx advocacy group Mijente — alongside the art collective AgitArte — collaborated with local Puerto Rican artists and organizations to present a free art exhibition that highlights the everyday societal struggles of Boricuas. Located in the Santurce barrio of San Juan, the “De Aquí Nadie Nos Saca” exhibit is marketing itself as a spiritual companion piece to Bad Bunny’s album, “Debí Tirar Más Fotos,” by delving into the musical joy and ongoing resistance movements of the island.

The name of the exhibition itself is a play on the lyrics from Bad Bunny’s track “La Mudanza,” in which he sings, “De aquí nadie me saca” — “nobody can get me out of here.” But the space has more than just a thematic connection to the Grammy-winning artist.

Members of AgitArte and one of its affiliated community theater collectives, Papel Machete, contributed to the “La Mudanza” music video by providing a giant papier-mâché puppet named La Maestra Combativa. It can be seen in the last minute of the video, holding up a colorful sign that reads “De aquí nadie me saca.”

The momentum of Bad Bunny’s latest album and subsequent tour met Mijente’s mission at a serendipitous time that led to the creation of the new showcase.

“The socio-cultural moment and the political moment needed different kinds of things, not just the normal playbook of social work,” said Mijente communications director Enrique Cárdenas Sifre. “We needed to experiment a little bit more.”

According to Cárdenas Sifre, part of the hope for the exhibition is to combat a pervasive narrative that Latinx people are more conservative-leaning than they realize.

Bad Bunny’s sentiment of “todo el mundo quiere ser latino” — and the universal praise and online utilization of “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” — allowed for Mijente to reopen the conversation about the true values of Latinx people in Puerto Rico.

“We can use the opportunity of a mainstream event to experiment with reoccupying and reutilizing all the cultural work for our causes,” he said. “For immigration causes, for liberation, decolonization, social, racial, gender equity and struggles … especially in Puerto Rico. So all of that came together at the same time.”

With hundreds of thousands of tourists descending upon the island to watch the “Baile Inolvidable” singer perform, it seemed like the right time to challenge tourists to engage with some of the more difficult and harrowing experiences of Puerto Ricans.

“No seas un turista más,” or “don’t be just another tourist,” is one of the main phrases used to advertise the exhibition, which asks people to confront colonialism, gender dynamics, environmental ruin, state violence and displacement.

“If you only have a few moments to be in San Juan [for the tour], please come to the exposition and help us amplify, connect and support all the local organizations that are doing the work,” Cárdenas Sifre said. “No seas un turista más, conoce un poco de la historia real de Puerto Rico.”

Telling the “real history” of the island are over 39 artists and organizations — with special help from AgitArte curator Dey Hernández — that make up “a piece” of the whole movement that Mijente is pushing for.

“We always try to recognize that we need joy, we need perreo, we need our culture, we need our sazón, but at the same time, we keep fighting for the things that we want in our lives and in our future,” Cárdenas Sifre said. “We want to go a little bit deeper for tourists to understand that it’s generations of struggle. So you can come to the exposition and support by donating directly to an organization or artist that is presenting.”

Open from Wednesday through Sunday, the exhibition will continue showcasing its works through early October. After its opening weekend, organizers of the event are enthused by the intergenerational crowds and the litany of responses the art has elicited.

“They see their fights, they see themselves in the exhibition,” Cárdenas Sifre said. “Some people have to go outside to cry for a minute, because there hadn’t been a place that hit on all these social battles and they recognize the years of work that went behind collecting it all. There’s also joy and celebration, it’s really run the gamut of every emotion…. Everyone tells us that this space was needed.”

One thing that Cárdenas Sifre wanted to make clear is that the exhibit is not affiliated with any electoral political alliance, but rather a “real new alliance of the folks doing the work on the ground every day.”

“These organizations and artists don’t always have a space to come together to talk about the work that [they] are doing, talk about the struggles they are facing. [It’s about] generating a little space [to] conspire the next [steps for] the movement in Puerto Rico.”

Comic this Week: Drag, DACA, and Departure

Julio Salgado is a visual artist based in Long Beach. His work has been displayed at the Oakland Museum, SFMOMA, and Smithsonian American Art Museum. (@juliosalgado83)

Stories we read this week that we think you should read

Unless otherwise noted, all stories in this section are from the L.A. Times.

Immigration and the border

Politics

Arts and Entertainment

Climate

Gripping Narrative

Aug. 4 (UPI) — Florida’s Republican Attorney General James Uthmeier is demanding guest lists, surveillance footage and personal information from people who attended a drag Pride event in Vero Beach on June 29, according to Scott Simpson, organizer for Qommittee, a national volunteer network defending drag artists’ rights.

The group says that no laws were violated in the event, and Florida’s statewide “drag ban” has been blocked by federal courts. But state officials are “weaponizing existing laws to bully, intimidate, and surveil our community,” Simpson said.

Simpson’s group has publicized Floridians’ rights and called for organizing.

“This is serious government overreach designed to intimidate drag performers into silence,” he said. “They want performers to stop performing. They want venues to stop booking drag shows. They want our community to stop gathering and celebrating who we are.

“Going to a drag show should not mean you forfeit your anonymity or land your name in a government database,” Simpson said. “We cannot let that happen. Every drag performer and venue in Florida must stay loud, stay proud, and protect themselves while continuing their art.”

This isn’t the first attack on Vero Beach’s drag community. Linda Moore, the vice mayor of Vero Beach, is being investigated by Uthmeier for a “Pride Tea Dance” held last month at the Kilted Mermaid, a wine bar she owns in the town on the Atlantic coast. But it’s unclear what charges Moore might face and questions remain concerning Uthmeier’s legal basis for the investigation.

Uthmeier’s office cited evidence that the event was promoted as being open to all ages and included sexualized adult performers who “wore revealing attire and burlesque outfits while interacting with the children.”

“In Florida, we don’t sacrifice the innocence of children for the perversions of some demented adults,” Uthmeier said in a statement.

But Moore said the bar has hosted it for at least the past five years.

“We have the event every year; it’s our gay pride event, and it is all ages,” Moore said. “It’s a family-friendly event, and then once the drag show actually starts, we tell the parents who have small children that they can’t stay for the show.”

Simpson’s Qommittee website clarifies drag performers’ rights and realities, as well as Florida’s laws on drag shows open to all ages versus shows for adults only. It also tells performers how to protect themselves if they’re targeted by government officials and to keep performing and keep showing up at drag shows.

“This intimidation campaign wants us to self-censor out of fear,” Simpson said. “We will not give them that victory.”

Compound in Long Beach is hard to pigeonhole into any category because it’s so many things at once, and at the same time, is a singular L.A. experience. The peaceful, 14,000-square-foot cultural complex’s primary focus is to promote wellness through the avenues of contemporary art, food, healing workshops, live performances and community building.

Upon entering Compound, you’ll find yourself in a serene and minimalistic sculpture garden that leads to Union, a restaurant helmed by local Baryo chef Eugene Santiago, who cooks with seasonality, sustainability and Southeast Asian flavors in mind. The all-day restaurant caters to the different needs of the community — as a place to get coffee, cocktails, as well as lunch and dinner.

Go deeper into Compound and you’ll see artwork seamlessly blend into the complex. Currently on display until August is Southern California artist Fay Ray’s “Puerperal” exhibition, an exploration on the female identity, motherhood and the postpartum experience told through porcelain and architectural sculptures and photo collages.

One of the hallmarks of Compound’s program is its wellness workshops that include sound baths, guided meditation, drum circles, tai chi and healthy cooking demonstrations. General admission to Compound is free, and many wellness and art workshops are also free or paid through a sliding scale.

Enhance the creative experience: Check Compound’s events schedule to attend the complex’s regular open mic nights featuring poets and musicians over dinner and drinks, or take it one step further and sign up for a slot to perform.

Artists are formed by the spaces they spend time in — and in the case of countless Los Angeles artists, writers and musicians, that place was the city’s oldest restaurant and bar, Cole’s French Dip, which is slated to close on Aug. 2.

Founded in 1908 by Harry Cole in downtown’s historic Pacific Electric building, then the city’s primary railway transit hub, the legendary public house is credited with inventing the French dip sandwich after its chef dipped bread in au jus to soften it for a patron who had trouble chewing. (Note: Philippe the Original in Chinatown takes issue with this story, claiming full credit for the juicy culinary delight.)

The possibility of an apocryphal legend aside, Cole’s went on to become one of the very best bars in the area, attracting a solidly blue-collar crowd over the years, including the notoriously ribald, drunken poet Charles Bukowski. The restroom even sported a placard that read, “Charles Bukowski pissed here,” an unflinchingly literal claim to fame frequently mentioned in self-guided tours of literary L.A. (Barney’s Beanery in West Hollywood has a less off-color plaque at its bar in reference to Jim Morrison, who allegedly relieved himself on the spot without heading for the urinals.)

I like to think of Bukowski with a beer and a shot of whiskey in front of him, scribbling away on a napkin at the bar in Cole’s. I’ve done the same over the years, having discovered the bar in 1999 when I first moved to Los Angeles. Downtown was not on the up-and-up in those days, and Cole’s had fallen on hard times but was still beloved.

My rock band played a few shows in its back room, and I fell in love with what was at the time a true dive bar — a place where the occasional unhoused patron spent his Social Security check alongside a smattering of unknown, paint-spattered artists who stopped by from nearby studios. I remember meeting a musician there one night who invited me and a friend to his 6th Street loft and showed me literally thousands of records stacked like a maze throughout the space, so high that you couldn’t see over them, so many that I wondered if he had space to sleep.

Cole’s was that kind of bar — a refuge for artists and misfits, a place that didn’t care what your story was as long as you had a good one.

The last time I went to Cole’s before downtown bar magnate Cedd Moses (artist Ed Moses’ son) bought it and restored it to its early 20th century glory, a rat ran over my foot as I sat at a torn, tufted banquette. I love a good dive (my husband proposed to me at the now-shuttered Brown Jug in San Francisco’s Tenderloin District), but that was a bridge too far, even for me.

Moses has long had a deep affinity for dive bars and, in the aughts, went about transforming and resurrecting a number of spaces in downtown L.A., including Cole’s, in ways that stayed true to their historic integrity. His 213 Nightlife Group (now called Pouring With Heart), was integral to downtown’s prepandemic boom.

That downtown is once again suffering from the kind of trouble and malaise that beset it in the ’80s and ’90s should be cause for great concern. On the bright side, it’s times like these when artists can again afford to move in. Maybe they can rally to save Cole’s.

I’m arts and culture writer Jessica Gelt, warning you that there is now often a line to get into Cole’s, but encouraging you to go anyway. Paying your respects to the classic institution is worth the wait. Bring a good book and a sketch pad.

Best bets: On our radar this week

‘Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair’
Quentin Tarantino presents rare screenings of the complete version of his four-hour martial arts epic that brought together “Vol. 1” and “Vol. 2,” with additional flourishes. Uma Thurman stars as the Bride in a quest for revenge against the title character (David Carradine) and his band of assassins (Lucy Liu, Daryl Hannah, Vivica A. Fox and Michael Madsen). Added flair: It’s the filmmaker’s personal 35 mm print screened at the Cannes Film Festival in 2006, so it has French subtitles.
Friday-Tuesday, Thursday-July 28. Vista Theater, 4473 Sunset Drive. vistatheaterhollywood.com

Artemisia Gentileschi in Naples
Curator Davide Gasparotto discussses the Italian artist’s work from the period she spent in Naples beginning in 1630. Gentileschi quickly became one of the most in-demand painters in the region, and Gasparotto illustrates the large-scale works, including the newly restored “Hercules and Omphale,” she completed during this time.
2 p.m. Saturday. J. Paul Getty Museum, 1200 Getty Center Drive, L.A. getty.edu

George Strait
Chris Stapleton and Little Big Town join the country legend on this stadium tour in support of his latest album, “Cowboys and Dreamers.”
5:45 p.m. Saturday. SoFi Stadium, 1001 S. Stadium Drive, Inglewood. sofistadium.com

TaikoProject
The L.A.-based taiko drumming group marks its 25th anniversary with a one-night-only concert featuring its innovative percussion work, plus guests including the Grammy-winning Latinx group Quetzal and multi-instrument soloist Sumie Kaneko, performing vocals, on the koto and the shamisen.
7 p.m. Saturday. Walt Disney Concert Hall, 111 S. Grand Ave., downtown L.A. musiccenter.org

‘Bye Bye Tiberias’
Filmmaker Lina Soualem portrays four generations of Arab women, including her mother, actor Hiam Abbass, who carry the burden of history within them and deal with an evolving meaning of home. Preceded by a 1988 short, “Measures of Distance,” in which filmmaker Mona Hatoum combines letters from her mother in war-torn Beirut with layered images and voice to question stereotypes of Arab womanhood. Both films are part of the UCLA Film and Television Archive’s series “(Dis)placement: Fluctuations of Home.”
7:30 p.m. Saturday. Billy Wilder Theater, UCLA Hammer Museum, 10899 Wilshire Blvd., Westwood. hammer.ucla.edu

‘Berta, Berta’
Andi Chapman directs the West Coast premiere of Angelica Chéri’s love story about a Black man seeking redemption in 1920s Mississippi. DeJuan Christopher and Kacie Rogers (“Furlough’s Paradise” at the Geffen) star.
July 19-Aug. 25; 8 p.m. Fridays, Saturdays and Mondays; 4 p.m. Sundays. The Echo Theater Company. Atwater Village Theatre, 3269 Casitas Ave. echotheatercompany.com

Giselle
American Ballet Theatre dances this romantic tale set in the Rhineland forests where betrayal, revenge and forgiveness play out. With the Pacific Symphony.
7:30 p.m. Thursday and July 25; 2 and 7:30 p.m. July 26; 1 p.m. July 27. Segerstrom Center for the Arts, 600 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa. scfta.org

The SoCal scene

The Los Angeles Philharmonic opened its 103rd season at the Hollywood Bowl earlier this month, and all was not well, writes Times classical music critic Mark Swed, noting low attendance, the cancellation of highly anticipated shows featuring Gustavo Dudamel with the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra and a general edginess that has taken root in the city since the intensive ICE raids began.

“‘A Beautiful Noise’ is a jukebox musical that understands the assignment,” begins Times theater critic Charles McNulty’s review of the show playing at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre through July 27. Anyone familiar with McNulty’s taste knows this is high praise coming from a critic who often doesn’t take a shine to the genre. This musical gets a pass because it exists simply to pay tribute to Neil Diamond’s beloved catalog with “glorious” singing of “American pop gold.” Former American Idol winner Nick Fradiani delivers a “thrilling vocal performance,” McNulty notes.

The New Hollywood String Quartet celebrated its 25th anniversary with a four-day festival at the Huntington’s Rothenberg Hall, and Swed was there to capture the scene. The festivities conjured the magic of the legendary studio musicians who first formed the quartet in the late 1930s. Classical music fans and lovers of cinematic scores didn’t always see eye to eye, but it was Hollywood that “produced the first notable American string quartet,” Swed writes.

McNulty also reviewed two shows in Theatricum Botanicum’s outdoor season: “The Seagull: Malibu” and “Strife,” both of which are reimagined in the American past. Ellen Geer directed the former, setting Chekhov’s play in the beach city of Malibu during the 1970s. Geer co-directs John Galsworthy’s 1909 social drama alongside Willow Geer — moving the action from the border of England and Wales to Pennsylvania in the 1890s. The plays are ambitious, if uneven, writes McNulty.

Culture news

The Hammer Museum is back with its annual summer concert series, which is free as always. There are two upcoming shows: Very Be Careful with Healing Gems and DJ Eléanora, July 31; and Open Mike Eagle with Jordan Patterson and J.Rocc, Aug. 19.

Ann Philbin, former director and current director emeritus of the Hammer Museum at UCLA, was named this year’s Getty Prize recipient. She chose to donate its accompanying, pay-it-forward $500,000 grant to NPR and its Los Angeles member stations, KCRW and LAist.

The “Jesus Christ Superstar” casting news keeping coming. Earlier this week, it was announced that Josh Gad will play King Herod and Phillipa Soo will play Mary Magdalene in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s iconic musical, staged at the Hollywood Bowl in early August and starring Cynthia Erivo as Jesus and Adam Lambert as Judas.

The Carpenter Center announced its 2025–2026 season, including an evening with Sandra Bernhard and Mandy Patinkin in concert; a cabaret series that opens with Melissa Errico performing Barbra Streisand’s songbook; a dance series featuring Alonzo King LINES Ballet; a “Wow!” series that includes the Peking Acrobats; and a Sunday afternoon concert series with a special tribute to the songs of John Lennon and Harry Nilsson.

— Jessica Gelt

And last but not least

Hot cheese bread and meat pies? Count me in!

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers is in its final month of debris removal in Altadena. It has already cleared thousands of properties destroyed in January’s devastating Eaton fire and is working on the toxic ash and refuse that remains. Once the immediacy of that task fades, years of accounting for the neighborhood’s many losses lie ahead, as does the ongoing rebuilding.

The California African American Museum is contributing to that work with “Ode to ’Dena: Black Artistic Legacies of Altadena,” an exhibition on view through Oct. 12. The exhibition — organized in just three months in response to the fire — is curated by Dominique Gallery founder Dominique Clayton. It seeks to illustrate the importance of the unincorporated foothill community to Black artists including midcentury figures like Charles White, as well as contemporary practitioners including Martine Syms and Kenturah Davis.

Between 1910 and 1970, approximately 6 million Black Americans migrated from the South to other parts of the U.S.. In Southern California, Altadena became an attractive place for Black families to settle. The area didn’t participate in the redlining practices of other neighborhoods, making it a relatively welcoming place.

Many of those residents were artists and musicians, including the famed assemblage artist and former director of the Watts Towers Arts Center, John Outterbridge, whose home and studio burned in the fire. (Outterbridge died in 2020.)

In an online description of the “Ode to ’Dena” exhibition, CAAM notes that Altadena was “hailed as the epicenter of Black arts activity in Los Angeles County,” during the 1950s and ’60s, although that artistic center of gravity later shifted toward Watts after the 1965 Watts Rebellion. Nonetheless, CAAM notes, “Altadena continued to develop as a vibrant and creative haven with a distinctive Black cultural imprint. Since then, Altadena and the adjacent city of Pasadena have served as home to an extraordinary array of Black artists, educators, musicians, intellectuals, entrepreneurs, and activists.”

In addition to Outterbridge, White, Syms and Davis, the CAAM exhibit includes work by Betye Saar, Richmond Barthé, Mark Steven Greenfield, Nikki High, Bennie Maupin, Marcus Leslie Singleton, La Monte Westmoreland and Keni “Arts” Davis.

The Times’ Noah Goldberg wrote a feature on Davis after the Eaton fire — highlighting how the retired 75-year-old Hollywood set painter spent 40 years creating watercolors of his beloved neighborhood. After the destruction, he began painting the wreckage.

For more information on CAAM and the exhibition, click here.

I’m arts and culture writer Jessica Gelt here with an important Essential Arts update: From today forward, this newsletter will now run on Friday only — rather than Monday and Friday. Here’s this week’s slew of arts news.

Best bets: On our radar this week

The Euterpides & Serenade
It’s the last two weekends to catch young composer Alma Deutscher’s debut ballet, “The Euterpides,” a world-premiere collaboration with American Contemporary Ballet Director Lincoln Jones. The work is paired with George Balanchine’s “Serenade,” set to music by Tchaikovsky.
8 p.m. Friday and Saturday; June 26-28. Television City, 200 N. Fairfax Ave., Stage 33. acbdances.com

KCRW and CAAM Summer Nights
What better way to kick off summer than an all-ages dance party? In between live sets from guest DJ Damar Davis and KCRW DJ Novena Carmel cool your heels in California African American Museum’s galleries, currently featuring solo exhibitions by Awol Erizku, Darol Olu Kae, Nellie Mae Rowe and Tatyana Fazlalizadeh, plus the aforementioned “Ode to ’Dena” and a group exhibition of artists inspired by the concept of reparations. There will also be food trucks, a beer garden and crafts. Best of all? It’s free with an RSVP.
7-11 p.m. Friday. California African American Museum, 600 State Drive, Exposition Park. caamuseum.org

Sing the Story: Celebrating Black Artistry From Gospel To Soul
Patrick Dailey and the W. Crimm Singers, an ensemble devoted to the Black experience and its expression through music, take to the BroadStage for a genre-blending evening featuring spiritual medleys, soul classics and more. Part of a series of blues rhythms curated by the Reverend Shawn Amos.
8 p.m. Saturday. The Plaza, 1310 11th St. Santa Monica. broadstage.org/

Before You Now: Capturing the Self in Portraiture
The Vincent Price Museum hosts a selection of photographs, prints, drawings, videos and installation art from LACMA’s collections that explores how American artists see and present themselves in their work. Laura Aguilar, Kwame Brathwaite, Kalli Arte Collective, Jennifer Moon, Wendy Red Star, Roger Shimomura, Cindy Sherman, Rodrigo Valenzuela and June Wayne are among the more than 50 artists redefining and expanding the concept of identity.
Saturday through Aug. 30. Vincent Price Art Museum, East Los Angeles College, 1301 Avenida Cesar Chavez, Monterey Park. vincentpriceartmuseum.org

2025 California Biennial: Desperate, Scared, But Social
The latest edition of the large-scale, Golden State-focused exhibition explores the “richness of late adolescence, a stage of life full of hope and potential yet fraught with awkwardness, anxiety, and myriad pressures.” The show’s 12 featured artists include well-established veterans and some who are still teenagers: Seth Bogart; punk rock band Emily’s Sassy Lime (Emily Ryan, Amy Yao, Wendy Yao); rock band the Linda Lindas (Lucia de la Garza, Mila de la Garza, Eloise Won and Bela Salazar); Miranda July; Stanya Kahn; Heesoo Kwon; Woody De Othello; Laura Owens; Brontez Purnell; Griselda Rosas; Deanna Templeton; and Joey Terrill. The Biennial also features a presentation of paintings from the Gardena High School Art Collection, an assemblage of California Impressionism that began in 1919, and a program curated by present-day teenagers of works drawn from the Orange County Museum of Art collection.
Saturday through Jan. 4. Orange County Museum of Art, 3333 Avenue of the Arts, Costa Mesa. ocma.art

When the Violin
Choreographer/dancer Yamini Kalluri joins violinist Vijay Gupta for an evening of music by JS Bach and Reena Esmail. The program combines poetry, music and a combination of modern and traditional Kuchipudi dance.
7:30 p.m. Saturday. Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Sierra Madre Blvd., Sierra Madre. sierramadreplayhouse.org

Georgia O’Keeffe: The Brightness of Light
A new documentary on the iconic American artist from Academy Award-winning director Paul Wagner (“The Stone Carver”). The film covers O’Keeffe’s life from Jazz Age New York to the New Mexico desert and features music by Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch and narration by Hugh Dancy, with Claire Danes as the voice of O’Keeffe.
7 p.m. Tuesday. Laemmle Royal, 11523 Santa Monica Blvd.; Aug. 2, Laemmle Newhall, Laemmle Glendale, Laemmle Town Center 5, Encino, Laemmle Monica Film Center and Laemmle Claremont 5. laemmle.com/film/georgia-okeeffe-brightness-light

Culture news

The drama surrounding President Trump’s purported firing of National Portrait Gallery Director Kim Sajet reached a conclusion last week when Sajet decided to step down on her own terms. “It has been the honor of a lifetime to lead the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery. This was not an easy decision, but I believe it is the right one,” Sajet wrote in a note to staff shared in an email by the Smithsonian Institution’s leader, Lonnie Bunch. Sajet’s announcement came two weeks after Trump claimed to have fired her for being, “a highly partisan person, and a strong supporter of DEI.” About a week later, the Smithsonian Institution released a statement asserting its independence in the face of Trump’s order, but that seems to not have been enough to persuade Sajet to stay.

The SoCal scene

The work of Seattle-born, L.A.-based artist Noah Davis — who died of a rare form of liposarcoma at the the age of 32 — is the subject of Times art critic Christopher Knight’s latest review. The Hammer Museum is staging a retrospective of Davis’ paintings. It’s only composed of about three dozen pieces, but Knight says it’s more than enough to show that “when Davis was good, he was very good indeed.” It is clear, Knight notes, that had his life not been cut tragically short, Davis was well on his way to further accomplishment. “The show affirms his gift for what it was: Davis was a painter’s painter, a deeply thoughtful and idiosyncratic Black voice heard by other artists and aficionados, even as his work was in invigorating development,” Knight writes.

The 2025 Ojai Music Festival was one of the best, writes Times classical music critic Mark Swed, of the annual event in the bucolic Ventura County town. Founded nearly 80 years ago by an East Coast music lover named John Leopold Jergens Bauer, the event was originally meant to be California’s answer to the Salzburg Festival. That aspiration never quite came to pass, but over the years the progressive gathering staged mostly at the Libbey Bowl has come to embody a groundbreaking ideal of new music. This year’s music director was the flutist Claire Chase, who, according to Swed, “collected concerned composers on a quest for a kind of eco-sonics capable of conjuring up the pleasure of nature and, in the process, saving our sanity.”

Last Saturday, Esa-Pekka Salonen, “conducted his San Francisco Symphony in a staggering performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 2, known as the ‘Resurrection.’ It was a ferocious performance and an exalted one of gripping intensity,” Swed wrote in a glowing review of the legendary conductor’s final show with the troubled orchestra he opted to leave when he decided not to renew his contact after five years of serving as its music director. “The audience responded with a stunned and tumultuous standing ovation,” Swed notes.

Times reporter Kailyn Brown headed to the Music Center on Sunday — a day after the city’s massive “No Kings” protests — to talk to audience members who attended L.A. Opera’s “Rigoletto” and Center Theater Group’s “Hamlet” despite the recent tumult and nighttime curfew in downtown L.A. In a series of interviews, accompanied by smiling photos, Brown’s reporting shows what many Angelenos have been trying to tell friends and family outside of the city: It’s not as bad as it may seem on your social media feeds. Downtown L.A. is more or less back to normal. And besides: It’s never a bad idea to show up in support of the arts.

CAP UCLA announced its 2025-26 season — its second under its new Executive and Artistic Director Edgar Miramontes. This season’s offerings include 30 performances featuring more than 100 international artists. “As borders become more intensified, Miramontes is committed to continued international exchange of ideas and learnings to encourage more empathy, connection, and shared understanding through presentations by acclaimed artists from around the world, spanning genre-defying jazz, Afro-Latin fusion, 21st-century classical music, and exciting new works in dance and theater,” the season release explains. Shows include: the Mexican collective Lagartijas Tiradas al Sol; basoonist and composer Joy Guidry; the jazz singer Lucía; trumpeter and composer Milena Casado; and Cuban musicians Alfredo Rodriguez and Pedrito Martínez, along with many others. “This season is more than a series of performances — it is a call to community,” Miramontes wrote in a note to patrons. “Exciting new theater, revolutionary music, and dance remind us that unity is not an ideal — it is an act. The stage becomes our platform, our laboratory, our refuge. Here, we witness. We reckon. We rejoice.” For tickets and the full schedule, click here.

Playwright Michael Shayan has released a new Audible Original play titled “Cruising.” It’s directed by Robert O’Hara, who was nominated for a Tony Award for directing “Slave Play” and is also in the midst of presenting his world-premiere adaptation of “Hamlet” at the Mark Taper Forum. The comedy follows an aspiring gay playwright who — suffering from a summer of writer’s block and apathy in his Encino apartment — embarks on a flamboyant cruise in his imagination, only to discover that his real life is falling apart around him. “Cruising” features the voices of Christine Baranski, Tituss Burgess, Cecily Strong, André de Shields and Andrew Rannells, and can be streamed here.

Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra announced its 2025-26 season, which continues this year at the Wallis in the Bram Goldsmith Theater. Offerings include a concert of classics led by Music Director Jaime Martín, featuring the German French cellist Nicolas Altstaedt; guest conductor Dinis Sousa with German violinist Isabelle Faust; violinist Anthony Marwood; pianist Richard Goode playing Mozart; a Brahms concert; a Baroque salon featuring harpsichordist Pierre Hantaï; and a performance by soprano Amanda Forsythe. For tickets and more info, click here.

— Jessica Gelt

And last but not least

What? You say you’d like a good beef roll for lunch? Me too! Here’s a list for where to find the best eight in the city by Times Food columnist Jenn Harris.

The modest but pungent survey of paintings by Noah Davis at the UCLA Hammer Museum is a welcome event. It goes a long way toward demythologizing the Seattle-born, L.A.-based artist, who was heartbreakingly struck down by a rare liposarcoma cancer in 2015, when he was barely 32.

The show affirms his gift for what it was: Davis was a painter’s painter, a deeply thoughtful and idiosyncratic Black voice heard by other artists and aficionados, even as his work was in invigorating development. Talented artists often come into a steadily mature expression in their 30s, the moment when Davis’ accelerating growth was brutally interrupted. The show’s three dozen paintings are understandably uneven, but when Davis was good, he was very good indeed.

That intriguing capacity resonates in the first picture, “40 Acres and a Unicorn,” which hangs alone in the show’s entry to mark the start of his career. Davis was 24 and had studied at Cooper Union in New York and the artist-run Mountain School of Arts in L.A.’s Chinatown. The 2007 painting is not large — 2½ feet tall and slightly narrower — but it casts a spell.

In Western art, a man on a horse is a classic format representing a hero, but here Davis sits a young Black man astride a mythic unicorn — notably white — its buttery beige horn shining amid the painting’s otherwise neutral palette. It’s easy to see the youth as signifying the artist, and the replacement for an art-historical horse likewise standing in for a mule. That animal was famously promised to thousands of formerly enslaved people near the end of the Civil War, along with 40 acres of Confederate land on which they had worked, uncompensated and abused, making the white planter class rich.

The 1865 pledge to redistribute confiscated lands as restitution to African Americans for their enslavement didn’t last a year before being annulled — reparations as rare, unique and desirable as a unicorn, offered by an untrustworthy white ruling class. (Had the 1865 redistribution happened, imagine where we might be today, as racist cruelties initiated by the federal government are running rampant.) Davis, placing his at least symbolic self on the unicorn’s back, plainly asserts his social and cultural confidence. Art is imagination made real, and as a Black American artist, he’s going to ride it forward.

Perhaps the canvas’ most beautiful feature is the rich skin of black acrylic paint within which he and his steed, both rendered in soft veils of thin gouache, are embedded. The luminous black abstraction dominating the surface was visibly painted after the figures, which feel like they are being held in its embrace.

Thirty-nine paintings on canvas and 21 on paper are installed chronologically, the works on paper selected from 70 made during Davis’ lengthy hospitalization. The layering of topicality, color sensitivity, art-historical ancestors and figuration and abstraction in “40 Acres and a Unicorn” recurs throughout the brief eight-year period being surveyed. (The traveling show was organized by London’s Barbican Art Gallery with Das Minsk, an exhibition hall in Potsdam, Germany.) The most abstract painting is on a wall by itself in the next room, and it demonstrates Davis’ unusual exploratory strategies.

Titled “Nobody,” a four-sided geometric shape is rendered in flat purple house paint on linen, 5 feet square. The layered difference in materials — an image built from practical, domestic paint on a refined and artistic support — is notable. The irregular shape, however two-dimensional, seems to hover and tilt in dynamic space. It suggests a 2008 riff on the long, rich legacy of Kazimir Malevich’s radical, revolutionary geometric abstractions from 1915.

The reference to the Russian avant-garde recalls that Malevich’s art was dubbed Suprematism, which bumped aside the academic hierarchy of aesthetic rules in favor of “the supremacy of pure artistic feeling,” most famously represented as a painted black square. Here, it twists into an inevitable jab at an ostensibly liberal Modern art world, still in fact dominated by unexamined white supremacy.

“Nobody” weaves together art and social history in surprising ways. It’s one of three geometric abstractions Davis made, their shapes based on the map contour of a battleground state in the revolutionary election year that brought Barack Obama to the presidency.

Colorado, a state whose shape is a simple rectangle, flipped from George W. Bush in 2004, while the secondary color of Davis’ choice of purple paint was created by combining two primary pigments — red and blue. The color purple also carries its own recognizable, resonant reference, embedded in popular consciousness for Alice Walker’s often-banned Pulitzer Prize-winning novel and Steven Spielberg’s hit movie of the book, a record holder of dubious distinction, tied for the most Oscar nominations (11) without a single win. Davis’ torqued purple rectangle looks to be in mid-flip.

That Davis exhibited but ultimately painted over the other two works in his geometric series might suggest some dissatisfaction with their admittedly obscure nature. (“Nobody” almost requires footnotes.) He returned to painting the figure — “somebody” — but often embedded it in visually sumptuous abstract fields. The hedge behind “Mary Jane,” a young girl in a striped pinafore, visually a cousin to the little girl engulfed in billowing locomotive steam clouds in Édouard Manet’s “The Railway,” is a gorgeously writhing arena of spectral green, gray and black forms.

So is the forest of “The Missing Link 6,” where a hunter with a rifle sits quietly at the base of a massive tree trunk, virtually secreted in the landscape, like something rustling in the dense foliage in a Gustave Courbet forest. The missing-link title declares Davis’ intention to join an evolutionary chain of artists, the hidden hunter adding an element of surprise.

Art history is threaded throughout Davis’ work. (He spent productive research time working as an employee at Art Catalogues, the late Dagny Corcoran’s celebrated bookstore, when it was at MOCA’s Pacific Design Center location.) The tension between established and new art, which seeks to simultaneously acknowledge greatness in the past while overturning its rank deficiencies, is often palpable. Nowhere is the pressure felt more emphatically than in the knockout “1975 (8),” where joyful exuberance enters the picture, as folks cavort in a swimming pool.

The subject — bathers — is as foundational to Modern art as it gets, conjuring Paul Cézanne. Meanwhile, the swimming pool is quintessentially identified with Los Angeles. (Another fine pool painting, “The Missing Link 4,” has a Modernist Detroit building as backdrop, painted as a grid of color rectangles reminiscent of a David Hockney, an Ed Ruscha or a Mark Bradford.) Bathers are an artistic signal for life crawling onto shore out of the primordial ooze or basking in a pastoral, prelapsarian paradise.

For America, the swimming pool is also an archetypal segregationist site of historical cruelty and exclusion. Davis seized the contradiction.

Draining public swimming pools to avoid integration in the wake of civil rights advances happened in countless places. It showed the self-lacerating depth to which irrational hate can descend, as policy advocate Heather McGhee wrote in her exceptional book, “The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together.” People were willing to harm everyone in a community by dismantling a popular public amenity rather than accept full equality. In “1975 (8),” the title’s date is within just a few years of the Supreme Court’s appalling ruling in Palmer vs. Thompson, which gave official blessing to the callous practice McGhee chronicled.

The 2013 painting’s composition is based on a photograph taken by Davis’ mother four decades earlier. A bright blue horizontal band in an urban landscape is dotted with calmly bobbing heads. A leaping male diver seen from behind dominates the lower foreground, angled toward the water. The soles of his bare feet greet our eyes, lining us up behind him as next to plunge in.

Davis suspends the aerial diver in space, a repoussoir figure designed to visually lead us into the scene. Like the unicorn rider, he assumes the artist’s metaphorical profile. A moment of anticipatory transition is frozen, made perpetual. Waiting our turn, we’re left to contemplate the soles of his feet — a familiar symbol of path-following humility, whether in Andrea Mantegna’s Italian Renaissance painting of a “Dead Christ” or countless Asian sculptures of Buddha.

The marvelous painting was made at a pivotal moment. A year before, Davis and his wife, sculptor Karon Davis, joined four storefronts on Washington Boulevard in Arlington Heights to create the Underground Museum. Their aim was to create a self-described family-run cultural space in a Black and Latino neighborhood. (Money came from an inheritance from his recently deceased father, with whom Davis was close.) A year later, the ambitious startup expanded when the project took on the internationally acclaimed Museum of Contemporary Art as an organizing partner. One room in the show includes mock-ups of classic sculptures — imitations — by Marcel Duchamp, Dan Flavin, Robert Smithson and Jeff Koons, which Davis made for an exhibition to reference the classic 1959 Douglas Sirk movie about racial identity, “Imitation of Life.” The appropriations ricochet off the feminist imitations of Andy Warhol and Frank Stella paintings that Elaine Sturtevant began to make in the 1960s.

Not all of Davis’ paintings succeed, which is to be expected of his youthful and experimental focus. An ambitious group that references raucous daytime TV talk programs from the likes of Maury Povich and Jerry Springer, for example, tries to wrestle with their trashy exploitation of identity issues as entertainment — DNA paternity tests and all. But a glimpse of “Maury” with a crisp Mondrian painting hanging in the background just falls flat. The juxtaposition of popular art’s messy vulgarity with the pristine aspirations of high art is surprisingly uninvolving.

Still, most of the exhibition rewards close attention. It handily does what a museum retrospective should do, securing the artist’s reputation. At any rate it’s just a sliver of some 400 paintings, sculptures and drawings the artist reportedly made. Whatever else might turn up in the future, the current selection at the Hammer represents the brilliant early start of Davis’ abbreviated career. Forget the mythology; the show’s reality is better.

L.A. has long been a beacon for the arts. So it’s only fitting that “Forever,” the Netflix series that showrunner Mara Brock Akil envisioned as “a love story within a love letter to Los Angeles,” celebrates local artists.

The Midcentury Modern home of Justin Edwards, one half of the couple whose love story informs the show — an adaptation of Judy Blume’s 1975 novel — is flooded with work from Black Angelenos.

“Local Los Angeles artists were important for me to put into the sets, and the Edwards family home, specifically, being collectors of Los Angeles art,” Akil, an L.A. native, told The Times.

Production designer Suzuki Ingerslev and set decorator Ron Franco are also Angelenos, which they said contributed to the cultural competency of their work on “Forever.” Although the writers’ strike made elements of their jobs difficult, both agreed that their experience on “Forever” was uniquely positive, in large part because of their curation of the art in the Edwards’ home.

“Sometimes art can really make a space and it makes a statement and it tells you who the character is,” said Ingerslev. “In this case, you really knew who the Edwards were — they curated art and they cared about where they live — and I thought that really made a big difference through the art and through the furnishings as well.”

Franco agreed, saying he had fun sourcing artwork from Black artists that matched Ingerslev’s color palette and also contained themes pertinent to the show.

“A lot of times the shows that you see now are just headshots and everything that we put up becomes a background piece that’s kind of blurred,” he said. “We are very lucky in that this camera really opened up, and you follow everybody through both of the [permanent] sets and you really feel a lot.”

Audiences noticed their effort, said Ingerslev, who’s been bombarded with questions about the artworks in “Forever,” which was just renewed for a second season.

Here are five local Black artists whose work are featured in the show.

Noah Humes, 31

Humes cites a book about artist and writer Romare Bearden that he received from Akil when he was 6 years old as the foundation for his worldview as an artist. (Humes’ mother was a casting director on “Girlfriends,” the 2000s TV series created by Akil, whom Humes calls “Auntie Mara.”)

“I look back [and] that’s what helped form and shape my energy with how I approach the canvas, wanting to tell the story of my community and different things that I see — social moments, political moments, historical remnants,” said the figurative painter.

Humes is drawn to bright colors that capture the vibrancy of his hometown of L.A. “Her” and “Mid City,” which feature prominently in the Edwards family’s media room in “Forever,” depict solitary figures against yellow backgrounds. The foliage in “Her” grows in Humes’ mother’s frontyard. “Mid City,” the neighborhood where Humes was raised, features the red-crowned parrots that wake him up every morning.

“I felt inclined to represent and show a certain subtlety of ‘We’re here, we’re centered, we’re always a focal point of unfortunate times, but also we can overcome things and become stronger than we have been,’” Humes said of the twin paintings, which he completed in 2020 after George Floyd’s murder and the national racial reckoning that followed.

Humes also credits his neighbors in L.A., a “system of Black excellence,” for positively influencing his artistry. Animator Lyndon Barrois (“Happy Feet,” “Alvin and the Chipmunks”) is his mentor, and members of the hip-hop collective Odd Future, including siblings Syd and Travis “Taco” Bennett, as well as Thebe Kgositsile — who uses the stage name Earl Sweatshirt — are his childhood friends.

Francis ‘Tommy’ Mitchell, 41

Mitchell has been drawing for as long as he can remember, but it was a high school classmate pointing out the permanent nature of a ballpoint pen that led to his aha moment.

“You can erase graphite, you can paint over acrylic and oil,” said the Baltimore- and L.A.-based artist. “Ink is one of those things that I just think of, no pun intended here, it’s forever.”

Mitchell’s portraits feature individuals shaded with ink set against monochromatic acyrlic background. Because it is extremely time-consuming, most artists working in ink compose smaller, more intimate images, said Mitchell. In contrast, his portraits are huge. If the work were hung on the walls of a museum, the viewer may never notice the figure’s skin was drawn in ink and not paint.

“Going to museums or galleries as a kid, I would see these amazing European paintings, and I’m like, ‘Wow, these are amazing,’ but there’s no one that looks like me,” he said, of his desire to focus on portraiture.

The subject of “Francis R. of City College,” Mitchell’s painting featured in the Edwards’ dining room in “Forever,” is modeled after his father. For Mitchell, the work represents a young man with his whole life ahead of him. Making the painting in his Baltimore studio less than a mile away from City College, where his father attended high school, felt like a full-circle moment.

Seeing the work on television only adds to the significance.

“One of my goals is to always promote those who work in ink because it’s not a traditional medium,” he said, pointing to tattoo artists Jun Cha and Mister Cartoon as inspirations. “So for it to be seen on television, it lends credence to, ‘Hey, we’re doing something special as well.’”

Edwin Marcelin, 50

Marcelin’s first job as a teenager was at Stüssy, a Laguna Beach streetwear brand founded in the early 1980s. Minimalist graphic design, a trademark of Stüssy as well as brands Supreme and Undefeated, has always informed his art.

“Everything usually is about engagement, confrontation or affection,” said Marcelin. “Those are things that I tend to generate towards by using very minimal strokes.”

During his time at the California College of the Arts — then called the California College of Arts and Crafts — Marcelin was drawn to Bauhaus, a German school of art that melds functionality and design. Marcelin applies those abstract Bauhaus fundamentals and adds the element of movement.

“If it ain’t moving, it ain’t me,” said the L.A.-born-and-raised artist.

Marcelin said his emphasis on motion lends itself well to the screen — his piece “Clarity,” a dynamic painting of Michael Jordan taking flight, hangs in basketball-loving Justin’s bedroom in “Forever.”

“I think Black folks in Los Angeles are dynamic, so I try to keep dynamic images, people doing things, not standing there, and I think that translates to film very well,” said Marcelin.

“Clarity” is part of a 23-painting series titled “Black Jesus.” Each image in the series, which took Marcelin about five months to complete in its entirety, references Jordan, who Marcelin said is disappearing visually from pop culture. Case in point: He said his 19- and 16-year-old sons may recognize the Jumpman logo, but they wouldn’t instantly recognize an image of Jordan himself.

“There’ll be more basketball players, but I wanted to do something that was completely abstract representing him because he has so many moments that are fantastically beautiful,” said Marcelin.

Corey Pemberton, 34

With a background in collage, glassblowing and painting, Pemberton’s large mixed-media works — of a man singing into his toothbrush in the bathroom, a naked woman smoking marijuana in bed, a man devouring a plate of his mother’s food — are both intimate and mundane.

“At a certain point, I turned an interest to those who had been marginalized by society in some way, whether it was because of the color of their skin or their gender expression or their socioeconomic status, and developed an interest in depicting those people in a way that both celebrated them but also gave them some space to just exist,” he said.

Such themes of ownership and viewership are etched into Pemberton’s work. For example, he depicts the space and objects around his figures in vivid detail. Objects are important, he said, because they carry memories of “the people who created them or gave them to us or lived with them before us.”

Similarly, his painting “The Collector” celebrates “a young black person who’s making a concerted effort to own and conserve our culture, which is so often falling into the hands of people who don’t care about us on a deeper level.” And in many of Pemberton’s pieces, miniature renderings of his previous works can be found on the walls of his subjects’ homes.

“I think when you see a work presented that way, it sort of brings a heightened level of importance,” said Pemberton.

So it’s doubly significant that Pemberton’s work is on display in the wealthy Edwards’ home in “Forever.” The art in question, “I Used to Cook More,” can be found in the family’s kitchen and depicts Pemberton’s friend and fellow collector Jared Culp eating out of a white takeout container.

“We were talking about all of the takeout that we now consume as busy young Black creatives in L.A. trying to claw our way to the top of something,” said Pemberton.

But success in the art world has been easier to come by in L.A., where he relocated to after six years in rural North Carolina, said Pemberton.

“When I moved to Los Angeles, not only was I selling work but I was selling work to people with shared experience,” he said. “I was getting feedback that not only were these works that people wanted to live with, but they were works that people saw themselves reflected in, and that I was doing something important or meaningful to more people than just myself.”

Charles A. Bibbs, 77

Bibbs worked in corporate America for 25 years before becoming an artist full time. For Bibbs, art — in a crosshatching style, in his case — is all about communicating universal ideas.

“I mix that crosshatching with different colors and paint, and it’s just one layer on top of another until you get your desired effect,” Bibbs said of his “spontaneous” way of creating that’s “almost like magic sometimes.”

Like many Black artists, Bibbs chose his subject matter out of necessity. As a young man, he encountered few Black artists, yet innately understood the power of positive images of the Black experience, especially in the home.

“It’s a very honorable occupation because you’re giving people a part of you that is changing their lives in an aesthetic way,” he said. “All of those things play into people proud to be who they are.”

In “Forever,” viewers may catch a glimpse of “Daddy’s Love,” a drawing of Bibbs’ father and Bibbs and his sister as children, on the wall outside Justin’s bedroom. But this isn’t the first time his work has made it to the screen. Bibbs is credited with the Black Madonna artwork on the honey jar central to the plot of the 2008 film “The Secret Life of Bees.” He said the experience underscored the importance of art, which he said touches the “subconscious mind.”

“[My work] was part of the presentation of the movie and in some way or another may have helped them understand what that movie was really all about.”