exhibition

It’s a Wednesday afternoon in West Hollywood, one day after the city was blanketed in a light coating of rain. The midday sun has only just begun to peek through the overcast sky.

Its beams are slightly more vivid through the large windows of the Edition, which sit at the edge of a secluded area of the hotel. Jamie Hewlett sits at a wooden table stirring a cappucino with a black straw.

“I mean, who drinks out of a straw when you get past the age of 10, right?” he says, jokingly. After 25 years of bouncing around the globe with Gorillaz, he’s still longing for a jet lag cure. Coffee can only do so much.

Leaning back in his chair, in a suave, all-beige outfit, he starts to grin while recounting his day in Los Angeles.

“We’ve been walking around the streets having a very rare morning off together. We bought some weed, which is always one of the most wonderful things about this state,” he recalls.

He also finds humor in L.A.’s obsession with driver-less food delivery.

“Every time we saw a post-bot driving down the road, we stopped and doffed our caps. … In the future, when robots take over and destroy us all, they’ll remember me for being nice to the post-bot!”

It’s been a long few weeks for Hewlett and bandmate Damon Albarn as they roll out the group’s latest endeavor, “The Mountain,” out Friday. Just one day prior, “House of Kong” opened at Rolling Greens in downtown L.A. The exhibition, initially intended as a Gorillaz 25th anniversary event, has landed on the West Coast.

“I think with this album, we were both quite happy with what we’ve done … and feeling like it was an honest, genuine adventure that was taken, and what we’ve given is something that we’re proud of,” Hewlett says.

He and Albarn are also artists at heart and in nature. It’s why Gorillaz continues to look and sound the way it does, and why the group is consistently pushing the agenda of how a nonexistent band can still resonate with a group of fans who are very much alive.

“The process, the research, the putting it together, the making of it is really fun, and the delivery of it is kind of like a mini death syndrome,” he says. “What you’re required to do is get straight on to the next thing, and you won’t have any time to waste thinking about the fact that the completion of that left you feeling numb, because then you’re excited about the next project.”

He adds that Albarn, similarly, is like a “kid in a sweet shop” when he’s making music: “The moment it’s finished, there’s no interest in discussing it.”

Even so, the album is undeniably their most intimate in recent history.

Perhaps it’s something to do with the experience of grief that the two lived through, losing their fathers only 10 days apart and just before a trip to India. Or maybe it’s a testament to the process behind “The Mountain,” which saw Hewlett and Albarn travel the country, spending more time together there than during previous album productions.

“It’s weird, because I’m born 10 days after Damon… the idea presented itself, and at that point we were going down that road, and there was no avoiding it… It wasn’t even necessarily going to be a Gorillaz project; ‘Let’s go together and see what happens.’ ”

“I completely fell in love with the place and got into their whole concept of death,” Hewlett says of India.

(Blair Brown)

Hewlett says the album was also inspired by his late mother-in-law, Amo, who was diagnosed with cancer in 2010 and opted for Eastern medicine instead of chemo.

“She said, ‘No, I’m going to India.’ … She was into Ayurveda medicine and knew this doctor, and she spent three months in India [being treated]. When she came back, her cancer had gone. In France, they call her in for a checkup, and they give her a scan. They say, ‘Where’s your cancer gone?’ She said, ‘I’ve been in India,’ and they say, ‘We don’t believe in that.’ ”

It wouldn’t be until 2022 when Jamie visited India himself, under unfortunate circumstances. He was in Belgrade with Albarn shooting the second video from “Cracker Island” when he received a call from his brother-in-law, who said that Amo had just had a stroke.

“They said they saved her, but she went into a coma. I was on a plane to India as quickly as I could get a visa, which wasn’t easy at the Indian Embassy in London,” he said. “I spent eight weeks with my wife, Emma, in Jaipur, dealing with that, in a public hospital during a pneumonia epidemic… having that experience that was traumatic; it should have been a reason for me to never go back to India ever again.”

But during his time there, it became clear that being in the country had the opposite effect on him.

“I completely fell in love with the place and got into their whole concept of death. … We met a lot of families who became friends of ours because we were at the hospital every day,” he continued.

“A loved one who was dying, who was in tears because they knew they were going to die, but also there was a celebration about the fact that they were coming back,” he said. “Their understanding of the cycle of life is a lot more appealing to me.”

Shortly after, Hewlett returned to Europe and went straight to Albarn with an idea: “I said, ‘We have to go to India, it’s so amazing,’ and of all the places he’d been around the world, that was the place he still hadn’t been. So we decided to go.”

Albarn first visited India in May 2024 alongside Hewlett.

(Blair Brown)

“The Mountain” is, as expected, heavily doused with notions on the concept of death. Inevitably, the question arose: “How can we make an album about death that would leave the listener feeling optimistic?”

But Gorillaz has always been a group entwined with different, equally heavy topics. On “Plastic Beach,” they tackle the climate crisis and human extinction. The enchanting and rhythmic “Dirty Harry” also examines war and soldiers, with its single cover even giving a nod to Stanley Kubrick’s “Full Metal Jacket.”

The tone Gorillaz achieved on “The Mountain” is an extension of that.

“The Happy Dictator,” released as the lead single in September, parodies megalomaniac Saparmurat Niyazov’s approach to governing in Turkmenistan. As Sparks produce stunning vocals, singing “I am the one to give you life again,” Gorillaz fictional frontman 2-D (voiced by Albarn) breaks in to pronounce, “No more bad news!”

Equally as enjoyable is “The God of Lying,” the third single released, featuring Idles. Joe Talbot hauntingly asks, “Do you love your blessed father? / Anoint by fear of death / Do you feel the lies creep on by? / As soft as baby’s breath.” It’s a bouncy song that could have been pulled straight out of the band’s self-titled debut, all the way back from 2001.

Even so, it feels criminal to compare it with the band’s earlier catalog, given that Hewlett and Albarn are artists in “perpetual motion.” This has resulted in some of their most sonically and visually impressive work — with styles and genres consistently shifting — but also asks the listener to be willing to evolve with them.

“I think art has to be an evolution,” Hewlett explains. “I know what David Hockney does at 88 years old, still smoking and drinking his red wine. He wakes up every day … and he does something new, and then the next day he does something new, and that promotes longevity. He’s never bored.”

Gorillaz’s exhibition in “House of Kong” seems to be contradictory in its existence, more or less serving as a retrospective from a band that not only doesn’t like to look in the rearview, but likely has it taped over altogether.

But it’s also an organic experience, teeming with originality, despite its familiar marketing as an “immersive experience.” It’s more comparable to something out of a Disney or Universal theme park than another gallery that merely projects video onto a wall.

“Down here at Kong, we are creating something that … only really existed in Jamie’s drawings and animations and in the minds of the fans of Gorillaz,” says Stephen Gallagher of Block9. He served as creative director on the project but has worked with the band since 2018 and previously collaborated with Banksy for his “The Walled Off Hotel” and “Dismaland.”

“I’d had this idea already: ‘What about if we built a film studio, and then you could do a backstage tour, and you’re seeing behind the scenes of the making of all of these music videos?’ ” he continued. “Then that evolved, and it became the ‘House of Kong.’ ”

As for why the exhibition landed in L.A. for its second showing, Hewlett compares the city to Shanghai when it was “still free and decadent and swinging.”

“I love L.A. … I love it. I’ve been coming here since I was 19 years old. … L.A. might be the last one [showing], to be honest,” he says. “All that stuff in the exhibition belongs to me; this is part of my lifelong collection of weird s—!”

“I’d love to get it back at some point,” he jokes.

Erica Mahinay, showing with Make Room Gallery at Frieze L.A.

Some art shows are not just about the art. At Frieze L.A., it’s also about seeing — and being seen.

On Thursday morning, over 100 artists, gallerists and collectors representing 24 countries wafted into the maze that is Frieze at the Santa Monica Airport and transformed the space into a winding runway. The dress code was eclectic and appropriately L.A.: hyper-curated and nonchalant. Archival Mugler was paired with reconstructed relaxed denim. Silk pajama pants slouched over Wales Bonner loafers. And much like the works on display, attendees dared to be visually undefinable.

This year, the four-day frenzy is expected to draw about 30,000 attendees to exhibitions both in and outside the tent, including public installations from Frieze Projects’ “Body & Soul,” and the Focus section curated by Essence Harden, which spotlights young and lesser-known artists.

Storm Ascher, left, founder of Superstition Gallery and Greg Ito pictured with his solo booth, “A Cautionary Tale,” in the Focus Section curated by Essence Harden.

Undeniably, the art this year is a product of now. Outside, Patrick Martinez welcomes guests with neon quotes supporting immigrant rights. Across the tent, in a display of performance art, Amanda Ross-Ho continuously pushes a giant, inflatable Earth around a soccer field, symbolic of “the labor it takes to just keep things going all the time.” Walking around the fair, a shared sentiment of post-fire rejuvenation, cultural collaboration and a pride for the Los Angeles community was deeply felt.

Angeleno and artist Sharif Farrag said he’s “excited to show in the city [he] grew up in.” His ceramic collection “Hybrid Moments” with Jeffrey Deitch is a cultural analogy for his childhood. “I hope my work can reflect the times we’re in through a lens of color,” he said, “and the flora and fauna of L.A.”

Nicole Reber, an L.A.-based real estate agent, was giving “’90s sparkle princess,” coupling a pair of Chanel loafers with a vintage Escada jacket that’s “highly underrated.” She came to Frieze to scope out the next addition to her home. “There’s something valuable about living and collecting art,” she said. “It’s a chance to live with somebody else’s energy.”

Dr. Joy Simmons wore a calf-length button-down by South African designer Thebe Magugu. Collecting art, like clothes, is her way of exploring the diaspora. “I just want to find something that’s different,” she said. “[African American artists] bring a different kind of color palette and excitement to the art world.”

Sharon Coplan Hurowitz came to Frieze with her “support animal, ‘Hector.’” The pebble grain Thom Browne shoulder bag, though, was no size comparison to the 10-foot John Baldessari sculpture she stood in front of. Coplan, who recently authored a catalog of Baldessari’s notable art, is excited to see support for his archival works.

Nevine Mahmoud sculpture at Sebastian Gladstone Gallery

Sebastian Gladstone, owner of namesake New York and L.A. galleries, said he loves the L.A. art community because it brings together “people that would never mix otherwise.” If he could describe “good” art in a sentence, it would be: “an alchemy where there’s a mystery of its creation, and how it makes you feel.”

Kibum Kim, partner at the Commonwealth and Council gallery

rafa esparza at Commonwealth and Council booth

Kibum Kim, a partner at the Commonwealth and Council gallery, said sifting through Frieze is like making “Sophie’s choice.” He wore a jacket from Jakarta-based brand Tanah le Saé, adorned with mixed-matched buttons. In a similar spirit of upcycling, his exhibition shows Rose Salane’s newest project from Pompeii featuring rocks and other ephemera taken from the historic site.

William Escalera, left, and Francisco George

Francisco George, a longtime art collector and docent at LACMA, is a Frieze regular. To him, good art “grabs your attention and keeps it. It communicates.” He visits the fair with his husband, William Escalera, who this year is looking for art that incorporates textiles. “It’s different,” he said.

Gallerist Susanne Vielmetter

Gallerist Susanne Vielmetter layered an Issey Miyake Pleats Please dress with a skirt from J.Crew underneath. At Frieze, she never knows whether it’s going to be cold or hot in the tent. “It’s an onion look,” she said. Although she is particularly excited to display paintings by Alec Egan, depicting the trauma of the Palisades fire, she is glad that the fair is bustling and joyous. “People are just done with doom and gloom,” she said. “They’re positive, they’re energetic, they want to go back to collecting.”

Shio Kusaka, left, and Jonah Wood

An artwork by Jade Guanaro Kuriki-Olivo, aka Puppies Puppies

Conny Maier wears a Healthy Boy Band tee and MISBHV biker shorts.

Jwan Yosef and Steven Galloway

Davida Nemeroff of Night Gallery

Soshiro Matsubara, showing with Bel Ami

Soshiro Matsubara, Bel Ami

Kelly Wall with her installation

The Museum of Contemporary Art has acquired Kara Walker’s sculpture “Unmanned Drone,” a cornerstone of the museum’s groundbreaking “Monuments” exhibition.

It joins the 158 works by 106 artists that were added to MOCA’s permanent collection last year, including major works by Jacqueline Humphries, Mike Kelley, Shizu Saldamando, Mary Weatherford, Julie Mehretu and Nairy Baghramian. Fifty artists are new to the collection, including Jonathas de Andrade, Leilah Babirye, Meriem Bennani, Paul Chan, Cynthia Daignault and Ali Eyal.

“Unmanned Drone” — a towering testament to the power of transmogrification — commands a room of its own at the Brick, which co-presented the “Monuments” exhibition in October. Walker created the 13-foot-tall bronze sculpture out of a statue of the prominent Confederate Gen. Stonewall Jackson that was originally in Charlottesville, Va. The statue had been removed after serving as a significant gathering place for the infamous 2017 Unite the Right rally of white supremacists.

A detail of a severed arm — part of Kara Walker’s sculpture “Unmanned Drone,” which she created using a decommissioned statue of Confederate Gen. Stonewall Jackson.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

In a review of “Monuments,” which declared the exhibition “the most significant American art museum show right now,” former Times art critic Christopher Knight called “Unmanned Drone” “devastating” and “brilliant.”

In an interview last fall, Brick director Hamza Walker explained to The Times that the city of Charlottesville issued a request for proposals from organizations interested in taking possession of the statue. The Brick applied and was deeded the statue, taking physical possession on Jan. 6, 2022. The gallery then gave the statue to Walker.

“They were getting rid of the Lee and the Stonewall Jackson statues, and they said, ‘We don’t want them put back up for further veneration,’” Hamza Walker said. “And so the idea of giving the statue to an artist fit that bill.”

Other applicants skipped over the line about not putting them up for further veneration, Hamza Walker said, noting that the Brick’s proposal was up against ones from Civil War battlefields and Laurel Hill, the birthplace of Confederate general J.E.B. Stuart.

A detail of the horse’s nostril in Kara Walker’s sculpture “Unmanned Drone,” which MOCA has acquired.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

Kara Walker sliced apart the statue with a plasma cutter and welded it back together in an entirely new form. She did away with Jackson’s face and put much of the focus on his famous steed, Little Sorrel. The horse now stands upright with its head pushing out from the back of its saddle.

“She didn’t want you to be able to identify with him. She wanted the emphasis on Little Sorrel rather than the myth of the man,” Hamza Walker explained of Kara Walker’s intentions. “She wanted to reduce it to horse and rider.”

“The fiend has no head,” Knight commented in his review. “The folkloric Euro-American story of the ‘headless horseman’ comes to mind — a nightmarish, animated corpse who haunts the living. As a metaphor for obtuse white supremacy, still active today, that terror figure is hard to beat.”

Walker’s work was the only transformed statue out of the nearly dozen decommissioned statues related to the Confederacy featured in the “Monuments” exhibition. The others were all presented as they looked when they were removed, many during the protests that swelled in the summer of 2020 in the wake of the murder of George Floyd.

A detail of a sword on Kara Walker’s sculpture “Unmanned Drone.”

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

In addition to “Unmanned Drone,” MOCA announced several other acquisitions that were either featured in recent exhibitions or have significant connections to the museum. These include an environmental sculpture by Olafur Eliasson; work by Takako Yamaguchi; a media installation by Paul Pfeiffer titled “Red Green Blue” (2022), co-acquired with the Brooklyn Museum; and pieces by Cynthia Daignault, Shizu Saldamando and Henry Taylor.

“The expansion of MOCA’s collection this year reflects a sustained and deeply collaborative effort to think critically about what it means to build a museum collection in the twenty-first century,” Clara Kim, chief curator and director of curatorial affairs, said in a statement.

Lyndon J. Barrois Sr. always knew he wanted to be an artist, even as a child.

From crafting figures out of chewed gum stuck underneath the pews at his Catholic school’s church after he was forced to scrape them as punishment from teachers to collecting his mother’s discarded gum wrappers, Barrois felt a creative itch to make something out of nothing.

“I had seen too much art [and thought to myself], ‘Someone had to be doing this, why not me?,’” Barrois said with a chuckle. “I always dreamt of doing this. Other kids played with Play-Doh. I made stuff with anything I could get my hands on like clay, aluminum foil and discarded phone wire.”

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Now the 61-year-old New Orleans native is debuting his latest project at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art: “Fútbol Is Life.” It depicts some of the most iconic plays and political moments in the 95-year history of the FIFA World Cup, coming to L.A. this summer, with “humble” gum wrappers.

Barrois and LACMA curator Britt Salvesen assembled 60 works, including 40 vignettes from past World Cups and four animated short films, among them the movie “Fútballet,” which re-creates 21 famous scenes on a 50-inch soccer pitch.

Suspended artwork of Brazilian Swedish footballer Marta Vieira da Silva, known mononymously as Marta, made by Barrois. He made a conscious effort to feature women’s contributions to soccer.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

A large-scale projection of a miniature of French footballer Kylian Mbappé hangs on the wall. Two life-size replicas of Argentina’s Lionel Messi and Brazil’s Marta Vieira da Silva hang from the ceiling, the first of their kind for the artist, who has done miniatures of NBA legend Kobe Bryant and NFL star Patrick Mahomes.

The exhibition is laid out to resemble a playing field.

“We really wanted to create that environment that you feel like you’re in a separate world, and my colleague Darwin Hu took a personal and creative interest in this,” Salvesen told The Times. “He did a bunch of visual research on soccer fields in schools and prisons, where fields were improvised in whatever spaces were available. We wanted to wrap the lines up the walls and have the turf. Your sense of the space changes when you go from a hard floor to a softer floor.”

With a suspended Lionel Messi at right, Noa Carter, 4, and dad Darius L. Carter of Pasadena get a preview of artist Lyndon J. Barrois Sr.’s LACMA exhibition, “Fútbol Is Life.”

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Barrois’ 1-inch tall “sportraits” are carefully painted to capture even the tiniest detail. The majority of the installations include a mirror, allowing the viewer to see themselves as part of the moments “frozen in time,” he said.

A total of 325 individual mini soccer and football players, including Portugal’s Cristiano Ronaldo, are included in the show.

“I had so much fun making the sculptures that when I was done, it was like hitting a wall after all that adrenaline,” Barrois said. “Now we get to hang it. Install it. You just start to see all the things we envisioned just come to life. I love this s—.”

Before sculpting, Barrois did “tons of research, a lot of reading, [looking at] photography and video.” He and a friend rewatched the most famous plays and examined the history surrounding the World Cup, stretching back to the 1930s, and before the Women’s World Cup started in 1970.

A “Sportraits” work shows the German soccer team highlighting migrant workers’ rights ahead of the 2021 World Cup. “I chose moments that I personally thought would be important, there’s a lot of politics involved,” Barrois said.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

“I just wanted to tell a story with the politics involved, like in 1938, the German team was all Nazis, and they’re doing the salute, and by 2022, the German team has human rights on their T-shirts,” Barrois said. “We also had the Iranian women project. All these things happened on such a huge platform. So it was a tough editing process to bring that down to 40.”

Barrois spent seven months completing his pieces.

Curator Sandra Jackson-Dumont, former director and CEO of the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art, applauded Barrois’ use of gum wrappers.

“I like that Lyndon is using materials that are a part of our everyday lives that we take for granted and we discard,” Jackson said. “He’s using those materials to make something creative.”

Barrois was surrounded by family and friends for the exhibition’s preview, most of whom grew up with the artist. Dany Wilson, who went to elementary school with Barrois, said he was “proud of him.”

The exhibition also features works from scientist Harold Edgerton and photographer Eadweard Muybridge that explore the history of motion studies and time-lapse photography.

The photograph is so intimate, so vulnerable, it’s painful to look at.

It depicts a woman in her early 20s lying on a hospital bed twisted to the side, her wrists and ankles restrained. The black-and-white image — nearly five feet wide — is so crisp that bits of the woman’s toenail polish glimmer and the hair on her thigh appears to spark. Most pronounced: the loneliness and resignation on her face.

“I was 20 or 21 then. I’d had a psychotic episode and was taken to a public hospital in Massachusetts,” says Palm Springs-based artist Lisa McCord of the self-portrait she later staged. “I’m very transparent and I wanted to share my experience afterward. It was the ‘70s. I’d tell people, in school, I’d been in a psychiatric hospital and no one wanted to hang out with me — it was a very lonely time.”

McCord’s work is part of an exhibition at the Los Angeles Center of Photography addressing the idea of loneliness, now considered an epidemic in America. The exhibition, “Reservoir: Photography, Loneliness and Well Being,” was curated by LACP‘s executive director, Rotem Rozental, and includes participation from more than 40 artists representing “a wide array of geographies, approaches, ages, nationalities and lived experiences,” she says.

Rozental had been thinking about loneliness in our society — how increasingly pervasive it is — since the start of the pandemic. In late 2024 she began having conversations about it with LACP board chair and artist Jennifer Pritchard. Art reflects the world that we live in and Rozental felt that, as a photography center, LACP had an obligation to amplify “some of the larger issues” our society is grappling with.

“There’s something about photography that really brings people together around their vulnerabilities,” Rozental says. “Even if it just means you’re seeing, through an image, that someone else is experiencing what you’re experiencing.”

In this case: loneliness — “something that is looming heavy on everybody,” Rozental adds.

Asiya Al. Sharabi’s “Inward” (2025) addresses the uncertainty, and sometimes loneliness, of being a woman and an immigrant.

(Asiya Al. Sharabi)

Chronic loneliness is a serious, growing public health concern, says Dr. Jeremy Nobel, a professor at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health and author of the 2023 book “Project UnLonely: Healing Our Crisis of Disconnection.”

“Most recent studies indicate that 50% of Americans are often lonely,” Nobel says, adding that a December 2025 study found that “loneliness is increasing, even after the pandemic. And it’s driving a change in behavior, the big one being that people are disengaging from each other and community activities, so that also isolates them.”

What’s more, chronic loneliness has tangible, dangerous effects on our health, he says.

“Loneliness increases the risk of heart attack and stroke and general early mortality by up to 30%. Dementia risk goes up by 40%, diabetes risk goes up 35% from being chronically lonely. That’s increased the urgency to address it as a public health crisis.”

It’s important to note, Nobel says, that there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, with the former potentially good for your health.

“Being alone means you don’t have social connection. Loneliness is the subjective feeling that you don’t have the social connections you want,” Nobel says. “You can be lonely in a crowd, you can be lonely in a racist workplace, you can be lonely in a failed relationship or marriage. But being alone can actually be quite positive — solitude. You can be in touch with thoughts and feelings and can have emotional growth.”

Nobel consulted with many of the artists during the development of “Reservoir.” It was a natural pairing as his more than 20-year-old nonprofit, the Foundation for Art & Healing, explores how creative expression helps individuals and communities heal. The experience “definitely validated ‘how do creative people use their creative orientation to further explore and reveal what’s going on with loneliness,’” he says. “That’s the power of this exhibit.”

A detail shot from Diane Meyer’s “The Empty Space of Nothing #43” (2025)

(Diane Meyer)

To create the exhibition, Rozental selected six photographic mentors, all established artists, each of whom chose a theme around loneliness — “aging,” “immigration,” “technology and hyper-consumerism” or “the solo creative process,” for example. The mentors then invited artists to create new work responding to their themes. Over nine months last year, the groups of artists met monthly on Zoom — “six countries and seven time zones,” says Rozental — along with therapists, scholars and others to plumb the topic.

The resulting exhibition features mostly two-dimensional photography but also includes multimedia works and 3D installations.

L.A.-based artist Diane Meyer sourced about 100 old black-and-white photographs from private collections. Then she hand-painted each of them, blocking out most everything in the image except select figures with white paint. The individuals in the photos appear to float in a sea of clouds or snow, disconnected.

In one image, two young boys teeter on a seesaw, as if suspended in midair; in another, a middle-aged man lies on a blanket in the fetal position, white paint spilling over onto his blanket and body, as if he is sinking into a void. The creative process — which the work speaks to — is evident here, the artist’s hand noticeable. The paint is splotchy in places and the photographs are pinned delicately to a dark surface, their edges curling, giving the overall installation a textured materiality.

Meyer’s work is in stark contrast to Jacque Rupp’s installation on the opposite wall. Rupp’s slick multimedia work speaks to both technology and societal perceptions of aging women. After recently becoming a grandmother, the Bay Area-based artist asked AI to “imagine a grandmother in 2025.” The result is a black-and-white photo grid of several hundred female faces staring blankly into the camera, mouths closed and eyes vacant. Beside it is a TV monitor on which their faces morph into one another, without audio. The overall effect is polished and high-tech, touching on the perceived invisibility of women as they age.

“I felt that these two works needed to be in conversation,” Rozental says.

Julia Buteux’s “Have We Said Hello” (2025)

(Rotem Rozental)

Nearby, Julia Buteux’s three-dimensional installation of transparent fabric panels hang from the ceiling, shimmying in the air and inviting guests to walk around it. The Rhode Island-based artist downloaded images from social media and deleted the people from them. The backgrounds are colorful but all that’s left of the subject is a transparent imprint of their face and upper body. “So you’re getting the absence of the user,” Rozental says. It speaks to how isolating online social milieus can be.

Asiya Al. Sharabi — who is Yemeni American and lives between Egypt and Virginia — created large-scale, conceptual self-portraits that she manipulated in the printing process. One is a double exposure depicting the front and side of her face. It addresses issues of duality and the uncertainty of her standing in society as both a woman and an immigrant. In another, the artist sits in a rocking chair in a home beside a vase of dead flowers — but her body is transparent. “She almost disappears within the domestic space,” Rozental says.

McCord’s photograph is part of a larger interactive installation that includes a “visual diary” guests can flip through featuring photographs of her life over the decades paired with handwritten diary entries from 1977 to 2021. McCord narrates snippets from the diary, which visitors may listen to on headphones.

“Reservoir” aims, of course, to shine a light on the condition of loneliness. But it also hopes to serve as a public health intervention by hosting creative workshops — incorporating the photography in the exhibition — to address loneliness and spark connection.

“Creative expression changes our brains,” Nobel says. “It reduces levels of the stress hormone cortisol, it increases the levels of the feel-good hormones, so you’re less anxious about the world and in a better mood. It’s then easier to engage with others. It invites us to be less lonely and more connected, not just to other people, but ourselves.”

The exhibition, which closes March 14, is planned to travel internationally, including to the Museo Arte Al Límite in Chile, the Inside Out Centre for the Arts in South Africa and to the Karuizawa Foto Fest in Japan. The goal is to use the workshop element as a model that can be replicated in community arts organizations around the world.

Rozental says photography is the perfect conduit for that, calling the medium “a language, a space for connection and communication.”

“We hope that people will walk into this space and see themselves on the walls,” she says. “Maybe their burden will ease a little bit by knowing that they might feel lonely, but they’re not alone.”