Standing barefoot on a glass floor through which one can discern the angle of a Lichtenstein, the visitor contemplates a Stella. In the low dining room with a direct view onto the sculpture garden’s luscious green grass, a Rothko is squeezed between a Picasso and photos of Kanye with the owner. “A special sunshade has been subsequently added,” mentions the guide. A Warhol hangs in the children’s room. The visitors’ shoes magically reappear at the other end of the house. “Thank you for visiting the Foundation.” A ribbon window opens onto the painting studio, while an opening leads to another space covered by wooden trusses. The magnificent Southern Californian light draws sharp shadows of gigantic sculptures in the courtyard, while the next court is lusciously green and inhabited by primitive faces. Four warehouses were bought and connected step-by-step, turning the purchase into a very lucrative enterprise. And since then, the artist doesn’t build models anymore; he makes everything at 1:1 scale.
The Point of Least Resistance
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as galleries, hangars produce art, office spaces sell art, strips are declared as art,4 and Crystal becomes Christ.5 Endorsing these patterns, new galleries are recurrently established in upcoming areas and museum-like shows are planned in a panoply of genuine industrial spaces, while artists are offered residencies and fed by the on-site organic products of the urban garden sheltering chickens. Four Los Angeles Tales Figurines and props inhabit the hangar, which stands 32 feet high and 100 square feet large. However, a penetrating smell defies the visitor and confirms that this is not Hollywood. The constant odor of resin burns the throat. The studio is like a battlefield of nightmares, where a large team pours and forms resin night and day. In a second connected hangar, IKEA-like shelves are aligned and filled with wooden boxes up to the ceiling. A good percentage of the artist’s oeuvre is archived here. “There is no sprinkler,” adds the gallery’s manager.