A few weeks ago, Pilar Zeta and I visited the new David Geffen Galleries at LACMA, where on a clear day, one can almost see Venice, California, with his back turned to Francis Bacon’s Three Studies of Lucian Freud (1969).
Following what felt like an eternity of delays—budget-related, structural and otherwise—LACMA opened its new Peter Zumthor-designed David Geffen Galleries this spring, finally unveiling its long-awaited proposal to reinvent the encyclopedic museum.
Days before the opening of the 61st International Art Exhibition of the Venice Biennale began, there were news reports of protests and disruption due to the Biennale’s inclusion of pavilions from Russia and Israel, two countries that are each involved in highly unpopular wars.
Turns out that there is bad art everywhere in the world, even at the Biennale. There was some good, some bad, some boring, and much of it was expected (cue lots of video art and fabric hanging from the ceiling). Here are our top picks of the best (and worst) of the (Venice) Biennale.
Today, Hollywood is like a ghost ship, an empty dream factory with abandoned equipment. Unmoored and directionless, Los Angeles shivers in the void of the fantasy it can’t forget.
Gary Baseman hosted a pop-up show in the long-shuttered Johnie’s Coffeeshop, kitty-corner from the Wilshire/Fairfax stop. Which is fun, because Baseman is big into kitty cats. “Off the Menu” shows a collection of drawings Baseman has done on menus of restaurants across Los Angeles.
Every year for decades, legions of tourists have flocked to the same SoCal landmarks: Hollywood Boulevard, the Griffith Observatory, Disneyland (or Universal, if you swing that way). For a certain subcategory of traveler straddling the line between hippie and yuppie, however, another attraction has recently been added to the mix: none other than grocery paradise Erewhon.
I have always felt uncomfortable around birds. I often trace my repulsion to a family viewing of Hitchcock’s The Birds during my tender years, when anything could feel like a personal reference. In that sense, I may be biased—but when a PR pitched me a preview of Prada’s new Spring/Summer 2026 campaign, I knew immediately I didn’t like it.
John Giorno seems like a fun guy to have been around. Lively, ready for hijinks. I mean, anyone who’d turn his slumbering nakedness over to Andy Warhol’s camera for six hours must be pretty game.
Who could ask for anything more exquisite and tasteful than Nancy Holt’s rhythmic and spare documentary artworks, installed in R.M. Schindler’s Kings Road house, a place that LA loves to love so much? The land art goddess fits right in among its sun-dappled redwood joists and tilt-up concrete walls.
Over Memorial Day weekend, I trekked up to Altadena to visit “Field Set,” a two-day exhibition of works by sculptor Kelly Akashi and sound artist Phil Peters. I was hesitant about visiting Altadena. The sheer emptiness of the area is oppressive and as a longtime fan, but never a resident of Altadena, I was worried my presence was more interloper than exhibition visitor. The exhibition was located on the remains of Akashi’s home.
What is the most beautiful thing in the world?
Consciousness awakening to itself through nature. Standing in the desert at dawn, looking into the night sky, feeling suddenly connected to something infinite — that, to me, is beauty.
What started with just collecting Mars Volta concert posters and work from underground graffiti artists that I met at hip hop shows, led me down a rabbit hole of collecting art from all over the world.
Question: Dear Dr Trainwreck, I'm a straight man. When I ask my female friends about problems with women (if I can make it so clear that a partner is doing something wrong that they don't immediately take the woman's side) they all just go "Well why would you be...
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Only available in print.
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