lacma

It’s not only easy to get lost in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s new David Geffen Galleries, it’s inevitable, intentional — and one of the best things about the place.

The museum has deconstructed the traditional, boxy narrative of art history and rendered the story itself a matter of curves and continuities. Art in the collection is freed from its departmental silos and put into conversation across genre lines, place and time.

The museum has physically invalidated the binaries of center and periphery, major and minor arts. In a startling and largely gratifying way, LACMA has done what the poet Audre Lorde, alluding to a different but not unrelated aspect of patriarchal dominance, deemed impossible: used the master’s tools to dismantle the master’s house.

The change goes far beyond a remodel. It’s a reinvention, a recalibration, a revisionist fever dream.

The vision conceived by museum director and Chief Executive Michael Govan and architect Peter Zumthor is not perfect, and brings with it a modest set of frustrations, but as a whole, the installation registers as ravishing and bracingly fresh. It thrusts us midstream into the ageless, ceaseless flow of makers worldwide reckoning with life, earth and being.

It prompts us, as we bob about, to reflect on our own proclivities and preconceptions, our patterns of reception and perception.

It compels us to recognize that what matters is not just what we see in the museum but how we see, what pulls us close and why, what private histories we bring to the occasion, what expectations, what tools.

Over two visits to the new building, getting my physical bearings mattered less and less as I surrendered to the generative sensations of not knowing. The museum has produced a dense guidebook to the new galleries, whose title, “Wander,” doubles as invitation and imperative. Even at 430 pages, the book is only minimally useful as an orientation device. For help with that internal navigation, Rebecca Solnit’s moving 2005 book, “A Field Guide to Getting Lost,” proved a better compass.

LACMA’s guidebook to the David Geffen Galleries, called “Wander,” doubles as invitation and imperative.

(Museum Associates / LACMA)

Solnit, citing the cultural critic Walter Benjamin, writes, “to be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery.” She goes on to recall how roaming freely as a child was key to developing self-reliance, which feels apt to the LACMA strategy. We are put in charge of making our own way, through tapestries and tea sets, past ancient jug and contemporary sphinx, without heavy-handed authoritative direction.

The history of art reads here as one long, free verse poem-in-progress, gorgeous and absorbing. Even so, many of the most memorable moments come in the form of cogent micro-essays, smartly curated ensembles of work bearing a legible, lucid premise. Some of these are contained within four (rectilinear) walls; some occupy less demarcated spaces. “Tonal Variations: Photography and Music,” for instance, gathers images by Paul Caponigro, William Eggleston, Lisette Model and others. These artists were also serious pianists, attuned, no matter which instrument they were using, to the qualities of rhythm, pattern and progression.

Lisette Model, “Window at 5th Avenue,” 1940, Los Angeles County Museum of Art

(Museum Associates / LACMA)

In a section headed “The Global Appeal of Blue-and-White Ceramics,” a long display case houses a timeline articulated sculpturally. The sequence advances from a 9th century bowl made in Iraq to a 13th century vessel from China, a 14th century example from Thailand, another from 15th century Syria, up to work by a 20th century German artist who transformed a functional vessel into personal adornment by cutting a string of beads out of the planar surface of the bowl.

Dish, Turkey, Iznik, c. 1530-35, Los Angeles County Museum of Art

(Museum Associates / LACMA)

On the wall facing this display is a huge vitrine containing an 18th century Talavera jar from Mexico, paired with a 2025/26 color photograph by Brooklyn-based Stephanie H. Shih. In the still-life composition, a cheeky visual lesson on the collision and convergence of cultures, the jar holds flowers, cactus and edible Mexican treats influenced by Chinese and Filipino flavors.

Top, Stephanie H. Shih, 梅國 “(Still life with chamoy and Dirty T Tamarindo),” (2025- 26); bottom, Jar (c. 1700-50)

(Museum Associates / LACMA)

Shih is one of a handful of artists commissioned to create new work using the museum’s collection as muse. L.A.-based Lauren Halsey is another. Her formidable, untitled 2026 sphinx regally commands its space among ancient Egyptian and Roman sculpture, a marvel of the cross-temporal and cross-spatial, spiked with specific references to Black self-determination.

Setting recent works among older ones is an effective element of LACMA’s overall plan to shed outworn hierarchies. It recasts every piece of art by every artist throughout the single-story space as equally relevant. The seamless integration of old and new feels stealthy, and a touch subversive, a doubling-down on the museum’s approach to time as nonlinear, sinuous and delightfully slippery.

Lauren Halsey’s untitled 2026 sphinx.

(Museum Associates / LACMA)

That said, a few words readily available would help connect the dots without undermining the provocation. Text — where and how it appears, or doesn’t — is my only major complaint about the installation of the new galleries.

Text panels announce, in one or two paragraphs, the themes of each given section: “Images of the Divine in South Asia”; “The Evolution of Abstract Painting in Modern Korea”; “Textile Conversations: Africa and Black America.” Individual object labels are kept minimal, containing only basic identification about each work, no commentary. When asked about this decision during my first walkthrough, Govan replied that more time reading means less time looking — “and we have the internet.” Every thematic text panel has a QR code that links to the Bloomberg Connects app, an aggregate guide to museums and other cultural sites that offers selected, augmented entries.

Determining how much didactic information is insightful and sufficient, and how much constitutes excessive artsplaining, is a delicate, ongoing challenge for museums. Where LACMA landed on this contested plain strikes me as unfortunate and counterproductive.

A few lines of explanation or context on a wall label can add perspective for even the most informed visitor, and provides crucial support to those with less foundational exposure and access to art.

You can take or leave text on a wall without breaking your stride, but text accessed via QR code is another matter. (Never mind that connectivity is spotty inside a sprawling concrete shell, and several times when I tried to get information from the app, I couldn’t.) Encouraging us to shift our gaze from the wall to our devices — to assume that accursed downward tilt of the neck when splendors abound before our eyes — is simply detrimental. It breaks the spell of being fruitfully lost in the present, and retethers us to the digital distractions that dominate our days.

Wall text beside Francis Bacon’s “Three Studies of Lucian Freud” (1969), at Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

(Museum Associates / LACMA)

Shouldn’t the imaginative minds that created this space, this opportunity to revel in direct sensual experience, want us to keep our attention where our bodies are? Why this fallback to current convention, when the rest of the experience is about radical reinvention? This feels like a missed opportunity. I’m hoping a more experimental, exploratory approach to providing information, context and interpretation, in keeping with the rest of the enterprise, might yet come.

Does the new structure serve the art? Mostly, very well.

The lighting is varied, treated as another texture in the space, palpable and rich. There’s a generous amount of natural sunlight, but some spots are noticeably dim. Some gallery walls are glazed in deep hues (reddish and eggplant), and the intensity of the color is jarring at first. But neutral, white-box viewing spaces (with even, predictable lighting) can be found elsewhere on LACMA’s campus and pretty much anywhere art is shown. Here, the very irregularity of the interior environment, including the concrete surfaces — richer and more textured than I expected — heightened my alertness. And keener senses tend to make for more consequential experiences.

In deciding how to organize roughly 2,000 works of art across 110,000 square feet of exhibition space, LACMA devised a conceptual schema that isn’t apparent in the galleries themselves. The “Wander” guide maps out the division of the space into four regions correlating to bodies of water: the Indian, Atlantic and Pacific oceans, and the Mediterranean Sea. While the zones and their boundaries aren’t indicated by obvious signage, and I caught one laughable categorization (Ansel Adams’ photographs of the Pacific shoreline landing in the Atlantic section), this schema at least doesn’t get in the way.

And what does work about the propositional structure is its comprehensive realignment. It moves to retire art historical frameworks of the past, dependent on borders between places and times.

Throughout this installation, we are repeatedly reminded of the impact of trade and migration, the fluid movement of resources and belief systems. We’re reminded of porousness and simultaneity, and that all art histories are, in the end, propositional structures.

Here’s a new one, the Geffen Galleries say. Try it out. You might get lost. Indeed, you will get lost. And what wonders await you in the uncertainty and mystery.

Finding a revolutionary artist during cocktail hour at the opening gala of Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s new David Geffen Galleries was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Gaze over the rim of your glass to notice Jeff Koons and Ed Ruscha talking closely beside the DJ booth. Mark Bradford strides by with a beneficent smile — towering over everyone, including AI art maker Refik Anadol. Todd Gray, whose 27-foot-long photo sculpture “Octavia’s Gaze” graces the hallway near the building’s south entrance, chats with Wim Wenders, who is making a documentary about architect Peter Zumthor’s controversial new $724 million concrete behemoth. Zumthor is there too — in bright red sneakers — talking to LACMA director and chief executive Michael Govan before Govan turns to take a selfie with immersive installation artist Do Ho Suh.

Jeff Koons, left, talks with Ed Ruscha at the opening gala for LACMA’s new David Geffen Galleries on Thursday.

(Jessica Gelt / Los Angeles Times)

Lauren Halsey walks by in her distinctive white shirt, long shorts and ball cap, beset on all sides by friends and admirers.

“It’s beautiful, it’s fantastic,” she said of Zumthor’s creation.

It’s an artist’s world on this breezy evening, as the sun sets golden over the looming gray concrete of the building, and the lights that gird the structure’s underbelly flicker on and twinkle like stars overhead. In this milieu, Hollywood A-listers like Will Ferrell and Sharon Stone, who occupy separate cliques nearby, pale in comparison to the mingling artistic luminaries.

Architect Peter Zumthor, left, and Michael Govan attend LACMA’s opening gala for the David Geffen Galleries. Govan said he hopes the building lasts 500 years.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

“It’s ready for us,” Bradford said of the building. “It’s ready for artists. I walked in and I was overwhelmed with a space that was made for us, and I can’t wait for everything I can do.”

“Snazzy. Does the job,” said Ruscha, looking bemused and speaking in short bursts of headline-style phrases like one of his famous paintings.

Gray said he was glad to see his art during “magic hour,” noting how the setting sun shone warm through the building’s glass windows — diffused by textile designer Reiko Sudo’s chromium spattered curtains — to imbue his photo installation with a distinctive warmth.

“I’ve never seen it at dusk,” Gray said with a smile. “It was a totally different experience to see it at that time of day. And [the light was] actually yellow, so the piece changed … and the concrete warmed up because of that warmer light. It was a lovely chromatic experience, which is wonderful because then you’re aware that you’re experiencing something in a very particular space and time.”

James Goldstein, the owner of architect John Lautner’s famed Sheats-Goldstein Residence, which he promised as a gift to LACMA in 2016, agreed with Gray that the gloaming light was lovely.

“If it were up to me the curtains wouldn’t be closed,” Goldstein said, noting that the curtains in his home — which is also made of concrete and glass — are never closed, and that the views from the Geffen Galleries are extraordinary and worth leaning into.

Koons said the building, and the moment in time that defines its unveiling, has the potential to bring the world together.

“It’s an amazing evening for all these people that love and believe in the value of art and humanity to be together and to celebrate architecture,” said Koons, noting that he looks forward to showing his art inside the new galleries. “LACMA is a place that’s here for future generations and Peter’s building is amazing.”

Will Ferrell and Viveca Paulin were among the major Hollywood stars at the gala.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

Chatter about the building could be heard in every cluster of guests. One group talked about how striking it was to see ancient Greek sculptures juxtaposed against the rush of traffic along Wilshire Boulevard; another discussed their hope for more landscaping, noting that the concrete ground and concrete building begged for some lush greenery.

Govan basked in the limelight nearby, shaking hands and doling out hugs and back pats. His vision for the building has been 20 years in the making, and he’s faced an enormous amount of pushback, but the structure is here and his enthusiasm for it has not waned.

“I’ve just always imagined people in the building — it’s for people,” Govan said. “And I want it to last 500 years, I want those little drill marks to accumulate, I want change. I want this to be something that generations will care for.”

Zumthor also seemed deeply pleased with the moment, saying, “I’ve always been happy,” and emphasized that working in L.A. taught him to embrace a certain frontier-like lack of refinement.

LACMA’s staff was elated, especially those who have been watching the project develop for decades and absorbing the large amounts of criticism that have accompanied its manifestation.

Stephanie Barron, LACMA’s senior curator and modern art department head, said, “This is the first night with our art world colleagues and donors, and it’s thrilling to see how they are responding, and how they are a little confused, at first, about where to go. Then they realize, that’s the point of this — and they are just going with the flow and they are smiling and happy and looking at the art. It’s a game changer.”

“I’ve been here nearly 20 years and seeing this going from concept to reality has been the greatest thing,” said Tiffany August, associate vice president of LACMA’s people and culture department, which oversees human resources. “So much soul and heart and effort went into this.”

Arun Mathai, budget officer and head of finance, has also been with the museum for 20 years and said it’s exciting to finally be on the other side of the project. “To see it happen in such a beautiful way is very gratifying. The notion of no hierarchy, of wandering around and seeing art from all over the world, from all time periods beautifully juxtaposed, it’s just so enlightening,” Mathai said.

Michael Govan, left, Peter Zumthor, Holly J. Mitchell and Mayor Karen Bass attend the opening gala.

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

Later, during a four-course meal of broiled oysters, tuna tostadas, braised Wagyu short ribs and berry meringue, various LACMA supporters, including board co-chair Tony Ressler; life trustee and major donor Lynda Resnick; and L.A. County Supervisor Holly J. Mitchell, whose district houses LACMA, took to the stage in a tent set up west of the new building to sing the praises of the Geffen Galleries — and to note that the evening’s dinner raised a record-setting $11.5 million. (The Geffen Galleries’ ongoing fundraising campaign now stands at $869 million.)

“This is a great, great example of what can be achieved when government and philanthropy work hand in hand for the public good,” Ressler said before thanking Govan for “taking bold risks.” “Your legacy is now permanently etched in the stunning galleries that will open to the public very soon.”

Mitchell was full of praise for Govan and Zumthor.

“The Geffen Galleries didn’t come to fruition overnight. And frankly, nothing that changes the status quo ever does,” Mitchell said. “To Michael, Peter, David [Geffen] and our dear Elaine [Wynn], thank you for your patience, because visionaries like yourselves often have to wait for the rest of the world to catch up with you.”

Resnick got a big laugh when she described her first meeting with Govan and his wife 21 years ago.

“An exquisite couple walked into [vice chair of the board] Bobby Kotick’s house. There was Michael Govan, a true intellectual, Zen thinker, movie star handsome, and under consideration to run LACMA. By the end of the evening, I was sitting on his lap feeding him peeled grapes.”

She concluded on a more serious note, calling the Geffen Galleries a “masterpiece of public art.” “Only one person in the world could have done all this with the signature elegance and his provocative style,” she said of Govan. “Generations will cross that bridge and watch the cars stream below, and feel the power of being embraced by art above all the gorgeous chaos of our city.”

After a standing ovation, Govan introduced musicians Sean Watkins, Gabe Witcher and T Bone Burnett, who sang — quite fittingly — “The Times They Are A-Changin.’”