After the Los Angeles wildfires, it seems pertinent to reflect on human relationships with fire and the land we occupy. The Fowler Museum currently hosts a relevant exhibit, titled “Fire Kinship: Southern California Native Ecology and Art,” which I had the privilege of privately touring. Contrary to popular attitudes of fear toward fire, the exhibit calls for a return to indigenous Southern Californian practices, which use fire in a productive and preventative way. On my journey through the exhibition, I learned about these indigenous practices, their modern suppression and the importance of how we interact with the land beneath our feet.
Entering the space, I was immediately greeted by warm, orange walls. Some contained text while others displayed images of the recent wildfires. The large room was dimly lit, with spotlights illuminating white paragraphs of text and the central art piece in the back of the room. I couldn’t help but notice the room itself was quite hot, though I still debate whether this was a stylistic choice. Before making my way to the art, I read through the paragraphs on the walls which detailed the purpose and importance of the exhibit: “Fire Kinship presents indigenous Southern Californian perspectives on the interrelatedness of human and natural environments, fire stewardship practices, and the effects of climate change. We hope that the central message of the exhibition will support impacted communities as they rebuild and plan for the future.” In addition to this central message, the exhibition expands on how controlled fires were used by Indigenous communities to ensure the health of the land before fire suppression policies were enacted during the colonial era. Not only did controlled fires support plant growth, but they also burned natural fuel loads in order to prevent larger, more dangerous fires from breaking out. Now, without these healthy practices, we face the consequences of poor, misinformed land management that still takes much of its influence from policies enacted decades ago.
With these ideas in mind, I moved to the back of the room to take in the central art piece of the exhibit. A circle of rocks surrounds a beautiful sand pattern of black, white, blue and red sand. The black and blue sand split the circle in two, with a spiral of black and red sand moving outward from the center of the circle. On the black half of the sand, a white pattern of two intersecting lines snakes around the spiral. Above the pattern hangs a silver, textured abalone with a thin wire that is barely visible.
To gain some insight into the piece, I interviewed gallery attendant Mia Peña, who was supervising the exhibition. She first described the central meaning and theme behind the work: “A couple of weeks ago, the artist, Lazaro Arvizu Jr., actually came in to speak about his piece in depth. He explained how the sand represents the Earth and the abalone represents the sky. The art is meant to symbolize time passing, with the sun playing a key role in how we perceive night and day. It is meant to remind us of the sun’s role in our lives, something which is too often forgotten.” An important aspect of Arvizu’s work is the human connection with nature. The sun, the Earth, the land and fire all impact our lives every day, which his art won’t allow us to forget.
Peña continued to explain the importance of the piece and why people should come visit the exhibition, saying, “I think it’s important because it offers a new perspective on fire and the land in California. People don’t usually take the time to honor or appreciate the land here. It’s important to make that connection between yourself and the natural environment and all the elements that come with it.” This resonated with me, as I had yet to take the time to really understand the history of the land beneath UCLA before coming to this exhibit.
This was Peña’s final statement on how she personally connected with the piece: “I like that it’s delicate, temporary. Unlike other pieces in the museum, this one’s not going to be here forever. The artist mentioned in his talk how sand paintings next to shore are meant to wash away. He also said he was going to return the rocks in the piece, which he gathered from indigenous land in California.”
As Peña said, the exhibition is temporary, so don’t miss the chance to come see it yourself before it closes. The art is captivating, the experience is fulfilling and the message of the exhibit cannot be stressed enough as the city of LA recovers from the recent wildfires. I certainly left with a newfound perspective and appreciation for the land we live on.
—
Featured Image Photographed by Amy Miranda/BruinLife
