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You might have seen ads on Instagram over the past couple of months for Hospital of Emotions—a colorful, cartoony flyer that heralds a site-specific art pop-up located in a real hospital with the tagline “a place to heal your heART.” The conceit intrigued me off the bat: 70 artists (both local and international) given hospital rooms as a canvas to transform as they wished.
Hospital of Emotions ads are also referring to it as “the experience of the year.” We’re only in May so that’s still TBD, but I do think the exhibition—which is inhabiting the former St. Vincent Medical Center in Westlake and is officially open to the public as of May 27—is well worth your time.
While the entire experience is hospital-themed—you walk through a waiting room and are given an intake form and hospital wristband, employees are in doctors’ coats—it’s not the cheesy type of immersive exhibition (read: selfie factory) that you might expect. Instead you’ll find 80 rooms filled with thought-provoking, visually dazzling and, yes, eminently photogenic installations. But there’s both style and substance here. And though the tickets are definitely on the pricey side, there’s so much to see—I spent nearly two hours there during my visit—that it (almost) makes up for it.
After checking in, you’ll take an elevator to the top floor of the hospital, then walk the hallways and go down sets of stairs till you make your way back down to the ground level. Off of each hallway, you’ll peer into patient rooms, operating spaces, nurses’ stations and ER spaces that have been completely transformed by artists from a range of disciplines—working in architecture, design, illustration, street art and more. Each has lent their own personal experience and creative interpretation to a number of different emotions.
The rooms are organized by theme; you start at the top of the building in the “Resilience Department” and make your way through clusters of rooms inspired by feelings like joy, sadness, anger, grief, fear and hope. (You can stamp your intake form at the end of each floor, but this doesn’t really pay off.) The emphasis on emotions and mental health here is a natural fit, as the property is slated to become part of the St. Vincent Behavioral Health Campus later this year. (The original hospital dates back to 1856 and is considered the city’s first hospital; it remained open until going bankrupt in 2020.) Many artists have embraced the hospital setting—some have repurposed the existing hospital beds and hardware, others have re-created beds out of cardboard, say, or neon lights—while others take a more figurative approach to the assignment of depicting a human emotion.
Out of 80 rooms, there were lots of standouts. The first piece you’ll encounter is a larger-than-life fetus suspended in an illuminated glass column. Across the hall is Prepper’s Paradise, by artist David A Knudsen, where you’re given a pair of 3-D glasses to fully appreciate the rows of cheekily named canned goods in a blacklight-lit room. Javiera Estrada’s Twister-themed room, covered in polka dots with colorful dummies hanging from the furniture, is sure to be a crowd pleaser, as is local artist Rebecca Ann Carver’s California-inspired infinity room filled with poppies.
Some of my other favorites were the rooms that looked like they had been reclaimed by nature—monarch butterflies mid-flight filled one by Olivia Barrionuevo, another by Allison Creates found cattails and moss sprouting through the middle of the hospital bed, another was outfitted with gorgeous faux florals by botanical installation artist Lisa Waud. Rooms plastered with book pages or filled with cardboard (Greg Corbino and Heriberto Gomes) also left an impression on me. A couple used video and technology in memorable and honestly mind-bending ways.
When I visited during a preview, nearly all the artists were on hand outside of their rooms and eager to share their process or the inspiration behind their work. You may not encounter that during your visit, so instead I recommend reading the placards outside of each room for a deeper understanding of each installation. (If you like what you see, each also has a QR code so you can follow the artist on social media.) Some rooms were worked on by more than one artist—like the installation by the People Concern, who brought together artists who’ve dealt with homelessness to create a moving installation, centered around a paper-mache woman-slash-tree and adorned with butterflies representing peers on Skid Row who’ve passed away. And artist Paal Anand collaborated with Veterans Stand Together for his video installation that shines a light on PTSD. Note: Some of the best rooms are tucked away at the end of a hallway, so keep an eye on the numbers so you don’t miss any.
On the way out, there’s a “Build Your Own Bouquet” room filled with an eye-popping variety of beautifully realistic pipe-cleaner flowers—I excitedly gathered a dozen beautiful faux blooms before realizing that they were $10 apiece (and put all but one back). The ticket price of $55 already provides a bit of pause—especially when you compare it to typical (free) gallery shows and the price of museum tickets that provide access to centuries of world-class art (LACMA, for example, only costs $25 to visit). But, given the novelty and the limited-time nature of Hospital of Emotions, I don’t think you’ll leave feeling disappointed. I, for one, left very impressed.
Hospital of Emotions is located at 2131 W 3rd St, Los Angeles, CA 90057. The exhibition runs from May 27 through July 31. It’s open daily from 10am to 8pm. You can purchase tickets here.