LOS ANGELES — As crowds descended on the Santa Monica Airport yesterday, February 20, for the opening of Frieze Los Angeles, casual bystanders might forget that just a month ago it wasn’t certain whether the international art fair would even be returning to LA this month. Wildfires had just swept through the Pacific Palisades and Altadena, deeply impacting the city’s artistic communities. Despite some concerns over whether it was “too soon,” organizers decided to move forward as planned alongside four other LA fairs happening concurrently, with the notion that they were an opportunity for those affected to benefit financially — and for collectors and patrons to show their support. In an overt acknowledgement of these tensions, Frieze added the subtitle “A Celebration of Creative Resilience and Community Rebuilding,” in press material.
Still, the specter of the fires was impossible to ignore. It was immediately evident as I walked up to the tent, where I encountered Dominique Moody’s “NOMAD” (2015–2025), a hand-built trailer made from wood, steel, and scavenged parts, one of eight public artworks comprising the Frieze Projects x Art Production Fund initiative. Moody built the trailer at Zorthian Ranch, most of which burned down in the Eaton Fire, and had been visiting with the family of the late assemblage artist John Outterbridge the day before their homes were destroyed. After the Altadena blaze, she decided to dedicate the work to those “who lost everything” emphasizing the “impact on the larger arts community, in particular the Black Arts community that is so powerfully present there.”
Nearby, a group of artists had set up an installation unaffiliated with Frieze and composed of a picnic blanket on which sat burned and charred pieces of furniture. Kikesa Cosio, one of the artists, told me that “Here Lay a Home” would be the site of performances throughout the weekend to raise awareness of the destruction suffered by the Altadena community, which her family had called home since the 1920s.
Even inside the tent, works that had no connection to the recent tragedy took on new levels of meaning. Chris Burden’s “Nomadic Folly” (2001), originally created for the 2001 Istanbul Biennial and presented by Gagosian gallery, the structure made from rugs, pillows, and curtains resembles a communal desert oasis, highlighting the basic need for shelter. The decision to exhibit the piece in the current context could be read as thoughtful or exploitative, depending on your perspective.
And while Frieze took strides to acknowledge the disaster and support those affected — with 10% of ticket sales donated to the LA Arts Community Fire Relief Fund, a Black Trustee Alliance booth focused on Altadena’s Black community, and a “Galleries Together” fundraising initiative for international galleries who want to help — it was easy to overlook these overtures and get swept up in the fair’s sprawling maze of nearly 100 exhibitors.
“It feels like the status quo,” said one curator, who asked not to be identified by name. “Everything benefits victims of the wildfires, as it should, but it can be hard to tell.”
Though it may be strange to see the usual blue-chip art (Anish Kapoor curved mirrors, Alex Katz portraits) against the backdrop of all the loss and devastation, “business as usual” was kind of the point. The success of the fair, after all, is seen as a reflection of the resilience and adaptability of LA’s art world after the fires. Fearing low sales, some exhibitors would have preferred to postpone the event, with a handful dropping out altogether. Most, however, forged ahead, in hopes that collectors from across the US and abroad wouldn’t be scared off by news images that gave the impression to many non-Angelenos that all of LA was engulfed in flames.
On opening day, however, there was a palpable buzz and celebratory atmosphere amongst exhibitors and patrons alike.
“People heard the call to come and support,” said Hammer Museum curator Erin Christovale. “This feels positive in the wake of the fires. What local artists need is money in their pockets.”
LA art dealer Sebastian Gladstone said he had sold seven of nine wood and bronze sculptures by Emmanuel Louisnord Desir, each priced between $10,000 and $40,000. In a shared booth with Stars gallery, one of the strongest presentations at the fair, Desir’s sculptures mixing Afro-futurism with a dark, gothic aesthetic were paired with visionary paintings by the late Mette Madsen.
Despite the early success, Gladstone remarked that he had not yet seen members of the upper echelons of collectors. Hollywood did make a showing — I spotted Balthazar Getty, James Franco, and Justine Bateman perusing and schmoozing, and Kid Cudi captivated by a glowing James Turrell piece at Pace Gallery’s booth.
Sam Parker of Parker Gallery noted that his early skepticism about turnout had dissipated. The previous evening, the gallery opened its new location in Hollywood with solo shows by Joe Minter and Daisy Sheff, welcoming hundreds of visitors. “It was crazy,” he exclaimed. “The energy is great.”
Tomokazu Matsuyama’s maximalist presentation at Almine Rech featured nine paintings, dazzling pomo pastiches that fused Western and Japanese styles and motifs, reflecting his own hybrid identity shaped by moving to the US from Japan as a child. “Resilience is something that is familiar in a Japanese context,” he told me, referring to the disasters, natural and man-made, that have affected the island nation. The historical and cultural multiplicity inherent in the works seemed to resonate, as nearly all the works, priced from $100,000 to $600,000, had sold, four to institutional collections, the gallery said in an email.
“It’s been an amazing morning — everyone’s talking about the energy, the sense of lightness. It’s an affirmation that we should be doing this, we should all be together,” said Trevyn McGowan of Southern Guild, making its debut at Frieze LA this year. The gallery expanded from their base in Cape Town, South Africa to Los Angeles last February. “I have not been able to move from the booth since we opened.”
The booth’s presentation featured 5 woman artists, four from South Africa and one from LA: photographic works by Zanele Muholi and Alex Hedison, textiles by Bonolo Kavula, towering ceramic and bronze sculptures by Zizipho Poswa, and paintings by Manyaku Mashilo, who also has a show at the LA space.
Although the space inside the tent can seem far removed from the fraught world outside, McGowan acknowledged the platform that the fair provided. “Since the election, I made it clear: Everything we do has to be done with purpose, toward equality and diversity. It can’t just be intrinsic, it has to be at the forefront of every decision we make.”
Countering the rapid rise of xenophobia, intolerance, and nationalism, expressions of solidarity and resistance could be seen elsewhere throughout the fair, notably in several Frieze Projects, including Jackie Amezquita’s “trazos de energía entre trayectorias fugaces (strokes of energy between impermanent traces)” (2025). The artist’s installation of lava rocks, soil, and corn masa that took up much of the soccer field, the focal point of which was a Mesoamerican pyramid. Nearby, Ozzie Juarez had recreated a South Central Swap Meet, inspired by those he grew up going to, and was giving away toys sourced from these actual gatherings and repackaged.
“Are these from the homies?!” a woman in a sharp suit excitedly exclaimed, picking up a small figurine of one of the beloved Chicano/Latino characters.
Victor “Marka27” Quiñonez, whose I.C.E. SCREAM (2025) series of neon-hued resin paletas, or ice pops, relabels the immigration and customs enforcement agency as “U.S. Inhumane and Cruelty Enforcement,” took home the fair’s 2025 Impact Prize.
As part of her AMBOS (Art Made Between Opposite Sides) project, Tanya Aguiñiga designed a fruit cart where she and her sister Karla Aguiñiga are showing a ceramic installation of erotic fruit sculptures, Frutas Coquetas (Sexy Fruit) (2025), created by artists in a program for refugees and asylum seekers. Despite their prominent location inside the tent for the first time, and the crowds surrounding the cart, Aguiñiga noted the disconnect between the fair’s typical audience and her community-based art practice.
“I’m OK not being for everybody,” Aguiñiga said matter-of-factly, standing in front of her display of suggestive pears, phallic bananas, and other frisky fruit. “People are afraid to take stances on things that don’t relate to their own lives, when it all relates to all of us.”
