exhibition

World number one Carlos Alcaraz says players are misunderstood when they want to play in exhibition tournaments alongside the demanding tennis calendar.

Alcaraz, 22, was among those critical of the workload in Asia, where some players struggled physically, with the Spaniard saying he would consider skipping mandatory events to prioritise his health.

He is top seed at this week’s lucrative Six Kings Slam in Saudi Arabia, a six-man tournament from 15 to 18 October that also includes Jannik Sinner, Novak Djokovic, Alexander Zverev, Taylor Fritz and Stefanos Tsitsipas.

There is a reported $4.5m (£3.4m) in prize money on offer at the exhibition, with some players also likely to have been paid seven-figure sums to appear.

Reports say the winner could take home up to $6m (£4.5m).

But Alcaraz feels that shorter-format events such as the Six Kings Slam are less gruelling than tour competitions, and therefore make fewer demands on the players.

He said: “A lot of players are talking about the calendar, how tight it is with a lot of tournaments, tournaments of two weeks, and then making excuses with exhibitions.

“It’s a different format, different situation playing exhibitions than the official tournaments, 15, 16 days in row, having such a high focus and demanding physically.

“We’re just having fun for one or two days and playing some tennis, and that’s great, and why we choose the exhibitions.

“I understand [the criticism], but sometimes people don’t understand us, our opinions. It’s not really demanding mentally [compared with] when we’re having such long events like two weeks or two and a half weeks.”

Alcaraz won his eighth title of the season in Tokyo last month despite an ankle injury sustained in his opening match that prompted him to pull out of the Shanghai Masters.

He will play in Saudi Arabia despite the injury not being fully healed. “Everything’s OK,” said Alcaraz. “I’ve been recovering the ankle as much as I can.

“I don’t feel 100% – the doubts are there when I’m moving on court, but it improved a lot and I’m going to compete and perform well in the Six Kings Slam.”

Alcaraz has a bye to the semi-finals of the event, which will be broadcast on Netflix, where he will face Fritz on Thursday after the American gained a 6-3 6-4 victory over Zverev.

In Wednesday’s other quarter-final, world number two Sinner beat Tsitsipas 6-2 6-3 and will face Djokovic in the semi-finals.

“Grounded,” the newly opened exhibition of relatively recent acquisitions of contemporary art at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, starts out setting a very high bar. It’s a compelling launch, even if the spotty show that unfolds in the next several rooms falls apart.

Grounded, it isn’t.

“Land Deeds,” a 1970 work by Iranian American artist Siah Armajani (1939-2020), is the opener, and it’s terrific. The piece is composed of 50 documents recording real estate purchases that the artist made in all 50 U.S. states, spending less than $100 on each. Sometimes, I’d guess, much less: Armajani only bought a single square-inch of land in each place, so the properties were cheap. Maybe that would cost a hundred bucks in Beverly Hills or Honolulu, but a square-inch of Abilene, Kan., or Whitefish, Mont., would be lucky to get a buck.

In true Conceptual art form, the notarized documents confirming the transactions are lined up on the wall in alphabetical order, from Alabama and Alaska to Wisconsin and Wyoming, in two rows of 25. Visually dry, they nonetheless quickly pull you in. These are warranty deeds, a legal document used to guarantee that a property being sold is unencumbered and the transfer of ownership from seller to buyer is legit. In good Dada and Pop art-style, the work’s title turns out to be a pun: A deed is not just a real estate certificate but an endeavor that one has undertaken.

Siah Armajani’s 1970 “Land Deeds” records his purchase of one square-inch of all 50 U.S. states.

(Christopher Knight / Los Angeles Times)

Other artistic resonances unfold. Land art was then at the cutting edge of avant-garde activity.

By 1970, sculptors Christo and Jeanne-Claude had just wrapped a million square-feet of coastal Australia in tarpaulin lashed with rope. Robert Smithson had bulldozed dirt and rocks to build a spiral jetty coiling out into Utah’s Great Salt Lake. Michael Heizer had dug a huge trench across Mormon Mesa near Overton, Nev., making a sculptural object out of empty space. Armajani’s unusual earthwork joined in: Embracing a legal, bureaucratic form, he pointed to land as a decidedly social structure.

The document display is droll but serious. It may be a layered example of up-to-the-minute Conceptual art, deeply absorbing and surprisingly suggestive, but the deeds are also lithographs, a perfectly traditional medium. They’re signed by administrative officials — one Julian Allison, warranty trustee, and notary public Brenda J. Hord — rather than being autographed by the artist. An art experience is a social transaction.

Armajani, an immigrant working as an artist in New York but not yet a U.S. citizen, was profoundly committed to democratic principles. (His citizenship would come in the wake of Iran’s 1979 Islamic Revolution, which installed a disastrous theocracy from which the Middle East still suffers.) With “Land Deeds,” he put his finger on a critical real estate context: From the get-go, full participation in American democracy had been limited to white male landowners. The explanation was that they had a vested interest in the community.

The deeper reasons, however, were profoundly anti-democratic — the noxious intransigence of patriarchy and white supremacy in Western culture, which drastically narrowed the eligible land-owning class. Women and people of color, except in limited instances, need not apply. (And suffice to say that warranty deeds for land transfers from Indigenous people were in rather short supply.) Gallingly, this autocratic check on egalitarian participation was also spiked with an element of informed equanimity: An educated populace is essential to democracy’s successful functioning, but in the 1770s, that mostly meant white male landed gentry, since they were likely to have had formal schooling.

At LACMA, Armajani’s marvelously revealing “Land Deeds” sets the stage for “Grounded.” The show was organized by LACMA curators Rita Gonzalez and Dhyandra Lawson, and deputy director Nancy Thomas. Entry wall text — there is no catalog — says it “explores how human experience is embedded in the land, presenting the work of artists who endow it with meaning.”

But, collectively, the 39 assembled contemporary paintings, sculptures, photographs, textiles and videos by 35 artists based in the Americas and areas of the Pacific underperform. Sometimes that’s because the individual work is bland, while elsewhere its pertinence to the shambling theme is stretched to the breaking point.

Familiar photographs of figures in the landscape by Ana Mendieta, left, and Laura Aguilar, center, offer background for the theme explored in “Grounded.”

(Museum Associates / LACMA)

The land theme is so loose and shaggy that, without the contemporary time frame, the show could start with prehistoric cave paintings, toss in a Chinese Song Dynasty scroll whose pictures follow a journey down the Yangzi River, add a Central African Kongo spirit sculpture filled with grave dirt and, for good measure, suitably hang a Jackson Pollock drip painting solely because it was made by spreading raw canvas flat on the ground.

Superficial bedlam, in other words.

Some work does stand out. Across from the Armajani is Patrick Martinez’s “Fallen Empire,” which takes a sly commercial real estate approach. The poignant mixed-media painting doubles as a large shop façade of crumbling, graffitied ceramic tiles with signage attached on a tarp. The name “Azteca” evokes a long-gone historical realm, here attached to a shop now falling into ruin. Martinez scatters ceramic roses across the painting, a mordant honorific to past glory and current hopes.

In the next room, Connie Samaras’ serendipitous landscape photograph unshackles whatever might be meant by being grounded. Shot from her L.A. home in the hills, what at first appears to be a strange cloud in the night sky over the twinkling city below turns out to be the vapor trail of a Minuteman missile deployed one night in 1998. A tangle of light above a black silhouette of a palm tree emits a sulfurous glow, its nauseous beauty balanced on the tip of potential annihilation.

Also among the more engaging works are two well-known photographic excursions into the landscape. Laura Aguilar’s “Grounded #111,” from a large series that likely gave the show its name, poses her corpulent nude body before a majestic boulder in the Joshua Tree desert, as if a secular saint enclosed within a sacred mandorla.

Six adjacent photographs in Ana Mendieta’s “Volcano Series no. 2” record a performance type of Land art in which a female form seems to erupt from within the Earth, spewing a volatile shower of flaming embers and smoke. Forget placid if repressive fantasies of Adam’s rib. The volcanic explosion provides a theatrically dramatic precedent for Aguilar’s contemplative composition.

Other impressive works include Mexico City-based Abraham Cruzvillegas’ exceptional sculpture, “Autoconcancion V” — the title’s made-up word translates to “auto with song” — which upends conventional L.A. car culture. An old automobile’s beat-up rear bench seat becomes the launching pad for a wooden box holding a small fan palm, held aloft on buoyant metal rods and exuding a witty mix of aplomb and high spirits.

A 70-foot video projection by Lisa Reihana reimagines a famous scenic French wallpaper.

(Christopher Knight / Los Angeles Times)

New Zealand artist Lisa Reihana, who is of Māori British ancestry, transformed a famous early 19^th century French scenic wallpaper designed by Jean-Gabriel Charvet into an equally extravagant, 70-foot-wide projection of video animation. The showily exoticized wallpaper, sold throughout Europe and in North America by celebrated manufacturer Joseph Dufour, was the culmination of Western public fascination with British Royal Navy Capt. James Cook’s three voyages to the Pacific. In a big, darkened room, Reihana redecorates.

Amid dreamy island landscapes, “in Pursuit of Venus [infected]” beautifully mixes interactive scenes of playful harmony and brute conflict between red-uniformed colonizers and colonized Polynesians. She maintains a nuanced sense of humanity’s transgressions and innocence, without demonizing or idealizing either side. Emblematic is a wickedly funny episode where a British plein-air painter at his easel bats away pesky tropical insects, invisible to a viewer’s naked eye, as he attempts to render a still life of a dead fish.

What either the Reihana video or the Cruzvillegas sculpture has to do with how human experience is embedded in the land — “grounded” — I cannot say, except in the most superficial ways. The land is certainly not a major focus of either one. The Cruzvillegas sculpture celebrates varieties of youthful play, while the Reihana animation ruminates on dimensions of cultural collision. The exhibition’s purported theme unhappily narrows perspectives on the assembled works of art, rather than opening wide their myriad readings.

Lisa Reihana, “in Pursuit of Venus [infected],” 2015, projected video animation.

(Christopher Knight / Los Angeles Times)

Essentially, “Grounded” is an old-fashioned “Recent Acquisitions” show, with most works entering LACMA’s collection in the last half-dozen years or so. (The big exception is Mendieta’s “Volcano” series, easily the show’s most famous work, purchased a quarter-century ago; it’s apparently included here as a benchmark.) Six pieces are shared with the UCLA Hammer Museum and the Museum of Contemporary Art as part of the new MAC3 (Mohn Art Collective) program, and the Aguilar is shared with the Vincent Price Art Museum at East L.A. College.

The exhibition is on view in LACMA’s Broad Contemporary Art Museum for eight months, until late June 2026. The unusually lengthy run will put recent art on par with LACMA’s historical departments, when the new Geffen Galleries building opens in April. Those rooms are also expected to thematize the museum’s diverse permanent collection of art’s global history.

But “Grounded” would have been better left without its imposed topic, which inadvertently casts much work as ugly stepsisters unsuccessfully trying to jam their feet into Cinderella’s glass slipper. Skepticism over the coming Geffen theme idea mounts.

ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia — The human ancestor fossil known as Lucy left Ethiopia for display in a European museum, Ethiopian national media reported Friday, citing Tourism Minister Selamawit Kassa.

Lucy’s skeleton, which is 40% complete, left Ethiopia on Friday and will be displayed at the Czech National Museum in Prague for approximately two months.

Lucy was recovered in Ethiopia in 1974 from what was an ancient lake near fossilized remains of crocodiles, turtle eggs and crab claws. She was a member of Australopithecus afarensis, an early human species that lived in Africa between about 4 million and 3 million years ago.

This is the second time Lucy has left Ethiopia. The first was in 2013, when she toured the United States.

Lucy’s fragmented bones will be exhibited alongside Selam, the fossil of an Australopithecus baby that is about 100,000 years older than Lucy and was discovered in the same region 25 years later.

“As an iconic specimen, she belongs to the whole world, so sharing her with the rest of humanity is something that everyone would love to see,” said Yohannes Haile-Selassie, director of the Institute of Human Origins at Arizona State University.

While many experts believe Lucy’s trip to Europe presents a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for people in Europe and beyond, there are safety concerns about the transportation of her fragile bones.

“The fragmented bones of Lucy are truly unique and need utmost care. Traveling to Europe has its own risks,” said Gidey Gebreegziabher, an archaeologist and Ph.D. candidate at the University of Warsaw, Poland, “She will also be exposed to different climate conditions, which could potentially have negative impacts on her preservation.”

Even in Ethiopia, the public has only occasionally seen the real Lucy fossil. At the National Museum of Ethiopia, a replica of Lucy is exhibited while the actual remains are stored in a secure vault.

“I’ve seen how she was packed, so I have no worries about anything happening to Lucy anymore,” Yohannes said.

Lucy’s quiet departure on Thursday night also raises questions about transparency as many Ethiopians — who take pride in her — were unaware of her journey to Europe.

“It’s unbelievable! The government appears to be deliberately sidelining its people from the narrative of their own heritage,” Gebreegziabher said.

Bekele Reta, 43, a resident who lives just 164 feet from the museum where Lucy is housed, was unaware of Lucy’s departure until he saw it on social media.

“I learned this morning on Facebook that Lucy has departed for Prague. It’s unfortunate that most Ethiopians only have the opportunity to see her showcased elsewhere.” he said.

Early this year, the director general of the Czech National Museum, Michal Lukeš, in a statement announcing the exhibition of Lucy and Selam, expressed his appreciation of the Ethiopians for agreeing to “lend” the remains.

“These priceless exhibits give us a unique insight into the past and deepen our understanding of humanity’s roots,” said Lukeš.

Birhane writes for the Associated Press. AP writer Evelyne Musambi contributed to this report from Nairobi.

Some SoCal residents spent their summer at the beach, or at their local rooftop pool; others spent it indoors, hiding from ICE agents.

It’s why Riverside artist Perry Picasshoe spent his summer documenting the melting of 36 ice blocks on sidewalks across the Inland Empire.

He traveled to nine locations, a mix of parks, storefronts and gas stations, where immigration enforcement raids have taken place in the past few weeks. In each spot, he placed four 25-pound ice blocks on the ground and took photos of them as they melted. He would periodically check on the progress, he explained, and found that some were smashed into pieces or completely disappeared.

“I took it as a metaphor of what’s happening,” Picasshoe said, referencing the recent ICE raids taking place across Southern California. “I was also thinking a lot about having these blocks of ice as almost a stand-in for people.”

This latest art piece is just one of the many other Chicano-focused projects that Picasshoe has created in his hometown in the past three years. His goal, among all of the artworks, is to push its residents to reflect on the complexity of the Inland Empire’s Latino identity.

Perry Picasshoe and his father place an ice block near the epicenter of the city’s monthly arts walk in downtown Riverside on July 3, 2025.

(Daniel Hernandez)

Juan Carlos Hernandez Marquez is an emerging Mexican American multidisciplinary artist from Riverside who goes by the stage name Perry Picasshoe. The moniker, which he created as a teenager, is a play on Pablo Picasso’s name mixed with an early 2010s social media term “art hoe.” Under this pseudonym, Picasshoe first gained recognition for creating art that explored the complexities of his dueling identities of being an LGBTQ+ artist while surrounded by traditional Latino ideals.

While studying visual arts at UCLA, he reimagined Sandro Botticelli’s painting “The Birth of Venus” with LGBTQ+ imagery, created a 9-foot-tall Christmas cactus in honor of the time he spent with his father during the holidays and hosted a solo exhibition called “Mystic Garden,” which showcased pieces inspired by flowers given to him by an ex-partner. It’s also where he developed his signature red-dominant style in both his fashion and art.

“Red is my comfort color,” Picasshoe said.

He suffered from occasional panic attacks while studying at UCLA, he explained, which discouraged him from going to school. It continued for months — until he found himself wearing a bright red outfit, which brought him a sense of peace.

“It just kind of grew from there,” he added. “It just followed me everywhere that I went.”

Picasshoe also posted videos showcasing his pieces on social media. Like his artwork, his posts were intricately filmed and edited with bright red accents. They were also accompanied by narration detailing the work’s inspiration, creation process and meaning. His efforts amassed him almost 200,000 followers between TikTok and Instagram.

This rapid growth, both on social media and within his network, brought new opportunities to grow professionally in Los Angeles. Yet after graduating in 2022, he decided to continue his career in his hometown instead.

“It was just a different pace that I was not ready for,” he said. “The art scene out here is much more [based in] community, as opposed to [money] or clout. It’s more of making work that people here will get to enjoy.”

It’s a decision that’s worked in his favor.

This year, he’s been honored by the city at the Mayor’s Ball for the Arts with the Emerging Artist award and recognized as one of UCLA’s top 100 alumni entrepreneurs for 2025. Picasshoe’s decision to be a professional artist within the Inland Empire also came at a time when opportunities for Latino artists in the region have grown in recent years.

Cosme Cordova, long-time Riverside Chicano artist and Division 9 Gallery founder, explained that for decades, Latino artists considered Riverside a “boot camp” instead of a city where they could make a living. They would earn some money in their hometown, then travel to other prominent locations, like Los Angeles or Palm Springs, where artists felt their work was more respected. As the years went on, he said, the local community began to understand the value in supporting its artists.

“Then when the Cheech came, it’s got international attention, so it’s just gotten even better,” Cordova said. “I’m starting to see a lot of artists now more genuinely focused on just trying to showcase their work here in Riverside.”

The most prominent addition within the region has been the Cheech Marin Center for Chicano Art and Culture — known colloquially as “the Cheech.” The museum is widely considered the only space in the country that exclusively showcases Latino-made exhibitions, including some of Picasshoe’s work.

Since returning to the Inland Empire, Picasshoe’s artistic vision caught the attention of both community leaders and larger institutions. While hosting one of his first solo exhibitions, called “Red Thoughts,” at the Eastside Arthouse in Riverside, the directors of the Cheech took notice of his unique style.

“They approach their work with abandon, with any medium,” said María Esther Fernández, the center’s artistic director. “They had an installation and it was very interactive and immersive. I think pushing the boundaries of that is really fun and innovative.”

It would lead Picasshoe to work on a wide range of projects in collaboration with the Chicano art center for the next three years.

Perry Picasshoe stands in front of the Cheech Marin Center for Chicano Art & Culture in Riverside, Calif., on July 3, 2025.

(Daniel Hernandez)

Last year, Picasshoe teamed up with Inland Empire-based artist Emmanuel Camacho Larios to curate an exhibition for the Cheech’s community gallery called “Desde los Cielos.”

“It was a group show that explored what the term ‘alien’ meant in the context of Chicanxs, and alien in the political, the social and the queerness of it all,” Picasshoe said. “I also made a huge painting for that one, the largest that I’ve ever done so far.”

The seven-foot-tall painting, called “Simulacra of Guillermo Hernandez, Beethoven, y los Guachimontones,” depicts his late grandfather sitting on the bed of a pickup truck alongside a small chihuahua. In the background, looming over his abuelo, is a giant circular pyramid built by the Teuchitlán people. A golden pyramid, made from Abuelita Mexican Chocolate bricks, was placed in front of the painting; the bricks were free for the taking during the exhibition’s debut.

After the time for his co-curated exhibition ended, another installation named “Queer Wishes” was featured in the Cheech for an exhibition co-curated by the Eastside Arthouse’s founder and resident artist.

The piece is a three-dimensional black box with a white dress made from bath towels and bedazzled gems displayed on a dress form mannequin inside. Next to the mannequin is a small black vanity desk and mirror with makeup and porcelain wishbones filling the table’s surface.

“The first time I was really able to express myself was when I would get out of the bathroom, put my bath towel on and pretend it was a dress,” Picasshoe said. “I know I’m not the only one with that experience of being in the bathroom and having that be the only time you have to yourself.”

Since debuting the installation at the Cheech, Picasshoe had hoped to take a step back from creating larger community-focused pieces and spend time finalizing some personal projects. However, as immigration enforcement raids ramped up in Southern California, Picasshoe felt the need to create artwork to express his frustration.

Picasshoe and his father drove the family truck to Fontana on July 3 to pick up three translucent ice slabs, each about 40 inches tall and weighing around 300 pounds, and brought them back to downtown Riverside.

They arrived 45 minutes before the start of the city’s monthly arts walk, an event where dozens of local vendors set up booths to sell their artwork to hundreds of residents.

Picasshoe and his father slowly unloaded the slabs from the truck’s bed onto a dolly and wheeled the installations out into the three chosen locations: the front of the Cheech Marin Center for Chicano Art and Culture, the epicenter of the city’s monthly arts walk event and the front of the Riverside County Superior Court.

A wooden platform was placed under each slab, with the words “life,” “liberty” and “the pursuit of happiness,” written upside down and divided between the three art pieces, along with a QR code explaining its meaning.

He chose this day, he said, because of its high foot traffic. It was the best opportunity to help some passersby feel represented while confronting others with a hard truth.

“Art should be lived in,” Picasshoe said. “It’s prevalent in a lot of my work, and especially this one, since it’s meant to be commenting on something regarding the public.”

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

(Jackie Rivera / For The Times; Martina Ibáñez-Baldor / Los Angeles Times)

This weekend, Descanso Gardens will unveil a meticulously curated art exhibition titled “Roots of Cool: A Celebration of Trees and Shade in a Warming World.” Co-curated by Edith de Guzman, cooperative extension climate researcher at the UCLA Luskin Center for Innovation, and artist Jolly de Guzman — a husband-and-wife duo — the exhibition highlights all-women artists who provoke visitors to contemplate the pressing issue of shade equity, the unequal access to cooling shade across urban neighborhoods, and what a tree and shade filled future can look like for L.A.

The goals of the exhibition are clear from the start, beginning with its title, “Roots of Cool,” which creatively integrates the Fahrenheit symbol in the word “of,” a tree in the letter “t” and the word “cool” as a shadow cast from the word “roots.”

The exhibit begins in the garden’s pathways, strewn with artworks, which lead visitors to the gallery rooms housed in the park’s Sturt Haaga Gallery and historic Boddy House.

A visitor’s proposal for a new type of bus stop that offers more shade, part of the new exhibition “Roots of Cool: A Celebration of Trees and Shade in a Warming World” at Descanso Gardens on July 9, 2025.

(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)

The first piece of art on the path, located at the gardens entrance, is Leslie K. Gray’s “Bus Stop of the Past,” an outdoor installation that shows the silhouette of a woman standing on an L.A. street, presumably waiting for a bus, with no shade structure nearby, meant to represent the climate-related challenges women bus riders faced while commuting in the past.

It’s the first of a three-part installation — the other two parts show up later in the exhibition — that invites visitors “to think temporally about where we’ve been and where we’re going,” Gray said. According to the artist, it is meant to highlight historical urban planning decisions that have left certain communities disproportionately vulnerable to heat, particularly women of color, who are prominent riders of L.A. public transportation, as indicated by statistics displayed on the bus signs accompanying the works.

Another standout of the outdoor part of the exhibition is Chantée Benefield’s “Cool Canopy,” which entails dozens of multicolored umbrellas suspended over visitors’ heads. The piece is particularly resonant given that it is actually a recreation that Benefield made after the original was lost, along with her family home, in the Eaton Fire.

Artist Chantée Benefield’s installation “Cool Canopy” at Descanso Gardens on July 9, 2025.

(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)

“What if the trees in neighborhoods were like graffiti, just ubiquitous everywhere?” Benefield asked. Her installation is both a colorful homage to lost greenery and a powerful statement on urban shade disparities, prompting visitors to contemplate what they would do without the shade being cast by these “trees” as they walk through the sunny patch where the work is located.

The next stop on the pathway is the second piece in Gray’s three-part installation: “Bus Stop of the Present.” It’s a version of the first, but with the addition of a shade structure for the woman bus rider. However, it shows clearly that the added structure is still inadequate, reflecting many of the realities women bus commuters face today. The bus sign here contains scientific facts that make the case for the critical need for systemic urban planning changes. Gray emphasized that these facts were carefully selected from peer-reviewed research and “scientifically vetted.”

Entering the Sturt Haaga Gallery, things change. Each room is meant to elicit a specific experience around urban planning and vegetation, and so each has its own visual and auditory scheme.

Kim Abeles’ piece “Looking for Paradise (Downtown Los Angeles).”

(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)

It begins with a dreary, urban past: shown against gray walls, works by Kim Abeles and Diana Kohne address historical inequities. Abeles’ installation “Looking for Paradise” visualizes the uneven distribution of trees in Downtown Los Angeles, while Kohne’s painted urban landscapes vividly depict the shade inadequacies she witnessed firsthand through her bus commutes as an L.A. resident, emphasizing how Los Angeles and other cities were built for “efficiency” rather than human comfort. The works are paired with compelling research, including the history of redlining and crucial heat-shade statistics, which visitors can interact with and see how their own communities are affected by these factors.

The next room is the present, with bright yellow walls representing the increasing urban heat of a changing climate. The artworks attempt to do the same. For example, Lisa Tomczeszyn’s installation, “Every Bench Deserves a Tree,” consists of two benches beside each other, one with no shade and only a street sign reading “Asphalt Blvd” while the other is shaded by a large tree — with leaves that are actually cutout photos of trees throughout the Deaconso gardens.

Finally, the third gallery room attempts to project a cooler, more verdant future with walls colored a serene green hue. It features works that imagine a future where technology and city planning better respond to environmental stressors, including Pascaline Doucin-Dahlke’s “Suspended Garden.” Like Tomczeszyn’s work in the previous room, this piece is also comprised primarily of benches set underneath umbrellas. In this case however, those umbrella canopies are made of repurposed plant materials.

Artist Pascaline Doucin-Dahlke’s piece “Suspended Garden” at Descanso Gardens.

(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)

One key goal of the exhibit is to help visitors connect to the importance of heat, shade and urban trees. For example, at the very end of the exhibit in the Boddy House, visitors can contribute to a real-world data collection study about how shade shapes their neighborhoods and what shade-heat related fact they find most striking, and are also invited to draw their imagined shade structures for women waiting at bus stops.

“[We] just don’t want to do science and just don’t want to do art. [We] want to create a good intersection that actually engages people,” said Jolly de Guzman.

Yarn Bombing Los Angeles’ installation inside of Boddy House at Descanso Gardens on July 9, 2025.

(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)

“We want to get them through the heartstrings, visually, aesthetically and actively,” added Edith de Guzman. Reflecting on the broader potential for change, she said, “There’s a lot of reasons to despair right now, but if we change our radio frequency a little bit, we can connect to a whole different feeling. We can actually create the city we want, in the neighborhoods that we deserve.”

The exhibition will run from July 12 to Oct. 12, 2025, with a free opening reception on Friday, July 11, from 5 to 7 p.m.