exhibit

Most Angelenos know Frank Gehry as the rebel architect whose deconstructivist buildings reinvigorated L.A. amid its late-century identity crisis.

Fewer know him as the sentimental sculptor celebrated in Gagosian Beverly Hills’ upcoming “Frank Gehry” exhibition, the first to showcase Gehry’s work since his death in December. Curated by those who worked with and loved the famous architect, the show, scheduled to open May 14 and run through June 27, is equal parts tribute and art presentation. It will feature several of Gehry’s animal-themed sculptures, including a rarely seen stainless steel bear figure, on loan from the artist’s family.

The exhibition will also include the first public screening of Gehry’s entry in Gagosian Premieres, a series of videos by the gallery showcasing new art exhibitions through a mix of intimate artist interviews, studio visits and specialized musical performances.

By spotlighting Gehry’s artistic practice rather than his design ouevre — which includes Walt Disney Concert Hall, Guggenheim Museum Bilbao and Fondation Louis Vuitton — the exhibition reveals a different side of the late visionary, said Deborah McLeod, senior director at Gagosian Beverly Hills.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a retrospective, but it is a chance to stand in the room and be with him,” McLeod said, adding that she “wouldn’t have the hubris to say this is going to offer anybody closure,” but that she hopes it will help people — especially those who worked closest with Gehry — to process his loss.

“Everybody is kind of raw and missing Frank, and it’s just a chance to come together and do this again as his team,” she said.

McLeod curated the exhibition alongside Meaghan Lloyd, chief of staff and partner at Gehry Partners, whom the director said “really speaks for Frank.” Gehry‘s studio will design the show, which was realized in collaboration with the artist’s family.

“We didn’t get a chance to put one in the gallery proper. Every time we’d make one, it would get sold,” Deborah McLeod said about Frank Gehry’s bear sculptures.

(© Frank O. Gehry. Photo: Benjamin Lee Ritchie Handler / Courtesy Gogosian)

The highlight of the Gagosian exhibition is an artist proof of “Bear with Us” (2014), which the gallery lifted out of Gehry’s wife Berta Aguilera’s garden with a crane. Another edition of the bear sculpture is on view at the New Orleans Museum of Art, but at Gagosian, the work for the first time will be on view as part of an exhibition.

The stainless steel figure has a crumpled appearance that many believe is the result of Gehry balling up a piece of paper and seeing the bear in the crumple, although McLeod said Gehry told her himself that wasn’t true. The director added that the bear’s form gives the illusion of something “coming into being or dissolving.” The sculpture will likely have the Gagosian’s north gallery completely to itself.

“We’re really going to give him his due,” McLeod said. It was only right for a piece that, to her, reads as Gehry’s “self-portrait.”

A handful of other animal-themed sculptures will populate the south gallery, including a glowing black crocodile, gouache-painted papier-mâché snake lamps, and “Fish on Fire” (2023), the last of Gehry’s fish sculptures to be rendered in copper. Illuminated within the darkened gallery, the pieces will have a “magical” flair, McLeod said.

The first fish sculptures Gehry made in the ’80s were contained, even still. But when he returned to the fish form 30 years later, Mcleod said, “they started to become actually Baroque, so that’s kind of neat to see that evolution.”

Rounding out the exhibition are a series of ink, watercolor and acrylic works on paper that “express the energetic motion of fish in networks of black line and clouds of color,” a news release said.

A portion of the pieces in the exhibition will be available for purchase, with a detailed checklist to come.

The first Frank Gehry Fish Lamps were exhibited in 1984 at Gagosian in Los Angeles.

(© Frank O. Gehry. Photo: Robert McKeever / Courtesy Gagosian)

Gehry’s designs breathed life into the city’s core, but he didn’t get to finish a number of his most exciting plans, including one to transform the 51-mile-long L.A. River.

And while his architecture was his great gift to his adoptive hometown — his art was his gift to himself.

“As one of the busiest architects in the world, imagine the math and the minutiae that you have to go through,” McLeod said, noting the enormous pressure from clients that Gehry must have felt in his daily practice.

“For him, just to make something the shape he wants to make it, plug it in … I know it was a huge relief for him,” she said. “I know how much he loved doing it, and I loved being a part of that part of his life.”

Dilapidated buildings and decaying signage may put off the casual observer. But for Redlands-based artists James McClung and Marcus Mercado, the gritty patina of the Inland Empire urban landscape conjures memories of life in the region.

Honoring these unassuming entities is the main focus of a new community exhibit, titled “Our Empire,” at the Cheech Marin Center for Chicano Art & Culture.

A total of 29 acrylic, mixed media paintings and drawings by McClung and Mercado will be on display at the Altura Credit Union Community Gallery until Oct. 23.

“James and Marcus’ artistic excellence, deep local roots and passion to tell the stories of their neighborhoods aligns with the vision of the Altura Credit Union Community Gallery — a space dedicated to providing opportunities for SoCal artists to showcase their work and uplift the people and places of our region,” said Valerie Found, interim executive director of Riverside Art Museum.

“A lot of people that grew up in these communities see some of these locations and they’re very relatable to their upbringing,” says McClung. “Things have transformed this area as well.”

Take for instance the San Bernardino Santa Fe smokestack, a towering 189-foot-tall structure from the 1920s that fueled the nearby railway power plant until 1994.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

For McClung, who grew up drawing comic book strips with his brother, the historic tower conjures memories of being in transit — after all, it is not far from the San Bernardino Santa Fe Depot, which links the city to other Southern California locations by train.

“I would go out to L.A. in my early 20s, just go off on my own and have a little adventure day,” says McClung. “Santa Fe structure stands out like a monument in the city.”

McClung depicts the tower with rigid orange triangles and hints of dewy sun-kissed hues, alongside a pencil-drawn image of the old Mt. Vernon Avenue Bridge, an 86-year-old structure that connected communities on the west side to the downtown commercial district. The bridge reopened last August under a $244.8–million project.

An elderly man holding a cane is also shown in the upper left area of the painting.  ”Who knows, he probably walked that bridge most of his life,” says McClung, who says he began to appreciate where he grew up following the pandemic.

“When I was a kid, I just remember driving around, looking out the window and observing the area around me,” says McClung. “I think growing up here teaches you to accept the small things and appreciate them too, appreciating small businesses and local establishments.”

Mercado’s interpretation of the Santa Fe tower is subtle, with the smokestack laid out behind the long-stretching freight trains carrying J.B. Hunt and FedEx shipping containers that pass below the renovated Mt. Vernon Avenue Bridge — an industrial crossroad between old and new San Bernardino.

“It’s mostly a reflection of your starting point heading towards L.A.,” he said.

Mercado notes that he took an interest in painting familiar, neglected sites about four years ago. His subjects include the sun-faded hamburglar at the Historic Original McDonald’s Museum in San Bernardino, located at the site where brothers Richard and Maurice McDonald established what would become the largest fast-food chain in the world.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

The defunct Redlands Mall, which is set to be demolished this year, is also a central subject in his artwork.

“I remember specifically being there, memories of the nail salon chemicals. There was a record shop and a hot dog on a stick,” says Mercado of the mall, which opened in 1977. “You’d go during Redlands Market Night, people would be hanging out, so all your friends would kind of meet up for that one night a week.”

When Mercado acquired photos from inside the vacant Redlands Mall from a friend, he saw his beloved hot dog on a stick shop, which he frequented in his middle and high school years, now in a desolate state with empty soda boxes and graffiti that depicted workers as stick figures. He painted it as such.

“To me, it is just a reflection of how we treat our memories or how we remember things,” says Mercado. “Is it the same as what we remember? Is it something that we wanna leave behind, or is it just, like, a ruin?”

Two extinct malls are referenced in the “Our Empire” exhibit, though the second might be hard to decipher unless someone remembers a mystery flute man who used to frequent the Carousel Mall in San Bernardino, which was demolished in 2023 after closing in 2017. McClung painted the flutist after hearing him in an empty parking structure beside the shopping center.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

“I was driving around places in the [Inland] Empire that I wanted to capture. I would go out and take reference photos,” says McClung. “I park in a big parking structure at Carousel mall and I hear this flute. Come to find out he would go there weekly because of the acoustics in the area.”

A quick online search will prompt a flurry of Reddit and Facebook discussion about where the flute man — dubbed the mystical flute man by many — is located now. Besides some streamer vlogs in the area, no formal article or website has ever recognized the elderly man as an idol. His memory, as it exists in McClung’s painting, is reserved for those who share a unique collective experience.

Perhaps others in the area have stumbled upon the mysterious flute man themselves, or can recall the smell of monomer from a nail salon at the Redlands Mall. Or perhaps Inland Empire residents can recognize home from the towering Santa Fe smokestack.

“I want people to come and feel like they are part of this as well,” McClung says. “We have our own memory of what that space was for us, but other people have their own story, too.”

The anti-nuclear artists collective whose work is on display at Pitzer College in Claremont never predicted a nuclear proliferation crisis would break out in the Middle East during their exhibit, or how grimly topical their work would quickly become as a result.

“Atomic Dragons,” wrapping April 4 with a closing-day symposium of nuclear experts, is the work of SWANS, which stands for Slow War Against the Nuclear State. The group is made up of artists, activists and academics with ties to the nuclear industry, including children and spouses of nuclear industrial complex workers — putting a new spin on the “nuclear family.”

The show examines the environmental and human cost of the atomic era through an artistic lens, tracing present day nuclear risk back to its Cold War roots.

The SWANS’ warning call has always been clear, but ”Atomic Dragons” took on a whole new meaning when the United States and Israel launched a joint assault on Iran over its illicit stockpile of nuclear materials Feb. 28, three weeks after the show opened.

“We’re at the start of what will be an exceedingly dangerous period in terms of the Iranian nuclear program,” nuclear policy expert Scott Sagan, who co-directs Stanford’s Center for International Security and Cooperation, said. “We’re likely to have a major, major conflict over this.”

In a time of acute nuclear anxiety, SWANS is an outlet through which the artists process the fear and gravity of our atomic reality.

Fiona Amundsen, “Yoshino Cherry Tree, Sanyo Buntokuden, Hiroshima (lovingly held),” 2025, from the series, “The Trees are Leaking Light,” 2024-25, 4 x 5 inch negative processed using seaweed, gathered from the ocean current of the Fukushima wastewater release, inkjet washi photograph.

(Chloe Shrager)

“My maybe-naive hope is that the artworks help to provide an avenue into that understanding of the severity of what it means to play with the nuclear,” said Fiona Amundsen, whose arresting film photography of three trees in Hiroshima that survived the 1945 nuclear bomb was developed using contaminated seaweed growing in the Fukushima wastewater release line.

The resulting images are dotted with delicate white flares: trace amounts of radioactive tritium that transferred to the film from the nuclear effluent during the chemical processing, bearing physical witness to the usually invisible effects of radiation.

Amundsen’s work is in keeping with the rest of the show, which fills two halls at the liberal arts school with visual and multimedia works that probe the persistence of radioactive materials. Artifacts from the birth of the nuclear age are also featured, including items recovered from postwar Hiroshima and a letter from the father of the nuclear bomb, Robert J. Oppenheimer.

The artworks are as likely to unsettle as they are to move.

Elin o’Hara slavick labored over an expansive series of photochemical drawings of every above-ground nuclear test — 528 in total, a selection of which are featured in the exhibit— on salvaged darkroom paper from Caltech, the institution that played a role in developing the detonators for the U.S. nuclear bombs dropped on Japan under the top secret Project Camel.

elin o’Hara slavick, selection from “There Have Been 528 Atmospheric Nuclear Tests to Date,” 2022, photo-chemical drawings on outdated and fogged silver gelatin paper.

(Chloe Shrager)

Slavick said she found the abandoned silver-gelatin paper, which was fogged despite being stored in closed boxes, in the basement of the university near a door labeled “Radiation Science,” which led her to believe radiation exposure from Caltech’s Manhattan Project past distorted the photographic paper.

SWANS seems to double as a support group for families impacted by the nuclear industry. Many members believe they’ve lost loved ones to radiation, or were themselves likely impacted by early-life exposure as children of Manhattan Project engineers. The tension between the anti-nuclear artwork and its artists’ familial ties to the production of the very technology they reject is an enticing dance of its own.

Judith Dancoff, “The Milk Pathway (still),” 2023, video, briefcase, antique milk bottles, and tempera.

(Chloe Shrager)

Writer Judith Dancoff links her hyperthyroidism and long-term reproductive issues from a pituitary gland tumor to childhood radiation exposure during a summer spent at the Oak Ridge uranium enrichment site in Tennessee where her father worked as a student of Oppenheimer. Her father died young of cancer, and the story is woven into her featured SWANS work.

One of the largest pieces on display at “Atomic Dragons” is Nancy Buchanan’s interactive full-wall exhibit of documents her father brought home from his government work as a Manhattan Project physicist, alongside material from the FBI file on his mysterious death, on display for viewers to read under looming red letters spelling out “SECURITY.”

Nancy Buchanan, “Security,” 1987, installation with file folders, photos, map pins, and documents.

(Chloe Shrager)

The current crisis in Iran has sent memories bubbling to the surface for the collective, and chills down the spines of viewers.

Many have expressed fears of an Orwellian-style forever war, or worse, the use of the atomic weapon invented “to end all wars” in a twisted attempt to do so, poisoning the region as a byproduct. But nuclear policy expert Sagan said the likelihood of the conflict escalating to involve nuclear weapons is “exceedingly low,” even if Iran has the capability to build them.

Iran possesses enough 60% highly-enriched uranium to build about 10 nuclear weapons if further enriched to 90% weapons grade, he said. This could take a matter of weeks to complete depending on the state of Iran’s enrichment centrifuges, which Trump claimed to have “obliterated” during air strikes in June.

Iran could also craft a primitive nuclear device out of minimally enriched materials for an offensive attack (“60% could actually create an explosion, it just wouldn’t be a very efficient one,” according to Sagan), but George Perkovich, senior fellow for the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace’s Nuclear Policy Program and author of “How to Assess Nuclear Threats in the 21st Century,” points out that “you have to build more than one for it to be useful,” especially under the wrath of a nuclear-armed West’s expected response.

What is more likely, and probably more dangerous, experts say, is the now-heightened long-term risk of global proliferation. “This war is going to suggest to some countries that if they want to secure their sovereignty, they need nuclear weapons,” Sagan said.

elin o’Hara slavick, selection from “There Have Been 528 Atmospheric Nuclear Tests to Date,” 2022, photo-chemical drawings on outdated and fogged silver gelatin paper.

(Chloe Shrager)

Since 1968, the world nuclear order has rested on the delicate architecture of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, enforcing the international norm that countries without nuclear weapons won’t try to get them, and countries with nuclear weapons won’t help arm their allies. Now, experts say the rulebook has been thrown out.

“What this does is it breaks the old system that was based on the non-proliferation treaty,” said Perkovich, who has worked on nuclear issues for 44 years. “It’s now ‘might makes right,’ everybody’s on their own, friends versus enemies. I think the terms now change, and we’re not bargaining.”

Though the timing of the military operation in Iran with the “Atomic Dragons” exhibit could not be described as kismet as much as brutally ironic, slavick said the “sick and sad thing” is that “it’s always topical when you’re an American.”

“We do this. We wage wars. We are the leading nuclear country,” she said, speaking to the heart of the SWANS message: In a world where nuclear materials exist, it is not a matter of if humans will be harmed, but when.

There is a historic relationship between visual art and nuclear war, said Jim Walsh, a senior research associate at the MIT Security Studies Program on nuclear weapons risk issues in Iran and North Korea, who is also a speaker at the exhibit’s closing symposium. As the world enters a “more disruptive period” after the post-Cold War cooling of nuclear tensions, he expects to soon see “a flowering of artistic projects,” as nuclear risk reaches a local peak. “It’s a super powerful thing involving life and death, the planet, the entire environment, love and hate,” he said.

“Atomic Dragons,” which also features work created decades ago, highlights questions that are as relevant today as they were at the dawn of the nuclear era: Can we make the world safe enough so we can once again dream? Is the strength of a country found in its military rather than its culture? Is fear our gross national product?