Grace Ebert

A few miles northwest of Downtown Los Angeles and Skid Row, St. Vincent Medical Center is considered one of the city’s most historical hospitals, having supported Angelenos since the 19th century. Vacant since 2020, the center is slated to become a full-service campus aimed at supporting people with addiction, mental health concerns, housing insecurity, and more. This transformation will begin in the next few months with a final target opening date in 2028 and a wholesale takeover in the meantime.

Tavares Strachan is an artist whose interests, references, and approaches to making stretch so broadly, it’s not surprising that one of his more well-known works is an encyclopedia. Created in 2018, the 2,400-page volume contains 15,000 entries on individuals, events, places, and more that are critical to understanding our shared history, and yet were omitted from the Encyclopedia Britannica. This inverse book-cum-sculpture is one of many pieces within Strachan’s oeuvre that question the narratives we collectively disseminate.

What is prison for? Touted as both a means of punishment and correction, the U.S. carceral system rarely succeeds at the latter. According to the Department of Justice, more than 650,000 people are released from prison annually, with two-thirds being arrested again within three years. Rehabilitation is the purported justification for locking away more of our residents than most other nations, but clearly, the punitive system seldom accomplishes this goal.

“There was a moment when I was walking between forests and mountains in Tepoztlán, Mexico, while dandelions floated across my face,” Alexis Mata says. “In that instant, I experienced a strange sensation, as if I were standing on another planet, in another time, confronted with an entirely new landscape.”

Known for his vibrant palettes and flattened perspectives, Kristof Santy translates common sights and everyday objects into vivid tableaux.

The Colombian artist Delcy Morelos describes her hometown of Tierralta as “a paradise full of butterflies and unpaved streets.” In the late 1960s and early ’70s, Morelos spent her days in her grandmother’s garden, running barefoot and gleaning what it meant to live in connection with the land. When paramilitary and guerrilla troops moved in, though, the region was plunged into a chaotic state of grief and fear.

Thousands of handmade ceramic tiles nest together like a puzzle on the facade of the Torre San Luis hotel in Guadalajara, Mexico. Abstract shapes evocative of a lush garden ecosystem burst across the outdoor wall in a collaboration between Alex Proba and the artisans of Cerámica Suro.

To open a new film from Art21, artist Lenka Clayton encapsulates her way of thinking and making: “Looking at things that are supposed to behave a certain way and purposefully misunderstanding how they should be used, it’s really important to me,” she says.

Sure, we all want love, but what lengths would you go to find it? Swedish animator Anna Mantzaris once again captures the gamut of human emotion in a stop-motion film that plunges headfirst into the pitiful and cringy. As its title suggests, “PLEASE” is about wanting and attempting to find love through increasingly unhinged acts of desperation and neediness. Mantzaris’ signature felt characters light fires for marriage proposals, sob in the chip aisle, and hug puppies while waiting for the train.

Sure, we all want love, but what lengths would you go to find it? Swedish animator Anna Mantzaris once again captures the gamut of human emotion in