Through the Lens of Loss: Rebuilding Art Practices in the Wake of Wildfires

This photo essay is both an elegy and a testament to creation as a form of resilience. It captures the raw emotions of grief, the indelible spirit of artistic creation, and the intimate process of mourning and rebuilding. Even in destruction’s wake, the impulse to make something new never fades. Art itself becomes a bridge toward healing. Through Orozco’s lens, we see the fragility of artistic practice in the face of catastrophe and, ultimately, the quiet but persistent ways in which art endures.

Beatriz Cortez

“It was like losing both homes at once and again. But this time I was surrounded by a community that cares. I am so fortunate [that] Los Angeles is my home. My studio is not in Altadena and it is safe, and for a few hours each day I don’t think about anything else but creating sculptures.”

“The first time I had to leave my home in a rush was in 1989 during the war in El Salvador. I still dream of the house and all its memories. When the Eaton Fire burned my apartment in Altadena, I lost most of the things I was able to save from my first home.”

“Time and control, or lack of it, has been a concept within my work for a long time. I find myself stuck on these concepts again in new ways, trying to find reason within all of this.”

“Driving around what was my neighborhood, I was struck by how beautiful the melted car parts were. These aluminum drips and flows spilling out and down driveways, like molten metal tears. I asked permission from my neighbors and friends if I could collect their melted car parts; I don’t [know] what form this will take, but I do know that I’d like to make it into a public art piece for Altadena.
I went back to dig where I knew I had some specific cast artworks. It was exciting when I found something recognizable—a treasure hunt of sorts. The best moment was when I found my favorite tool. It was for wax sculpting, it was thinner and bent but still there.”

Margaret Griffith and Jamison Carter

“My studio and home were both lost in the Eaton Canyon fires on January 8. I was set to install a public artwork [January 22]. [The piece reflects] upon my interest in impermanence… It is titled Kaleidoscope, because it has a series of circular openings that are constantly changing as you move around the piece.
There is newfound urgency and immediacy in making art. All notions of perfection are out the window. I can obsess over small details in my work, but after so much loss, I am currently finding the imperfections [to be] positives and not negatives.” —Margaret Griffith

“I finished [this] piece a couple of days before the fires. I decided to name it using the conventions of NASA and ESA naming comets and other celestial bodies. It’s titled JC73-20J, after my birthdate. I didn’t know at the time that this piece would be the source of a rebirth of sorts, since nearly every other piece I made was destroyed in the fire.
I’ve made a few pieces since the fire, with fire affected things. I have always used my current moment to fuel my practice, but there is definitely a shift in urgency [and] consideration of things I’m making.” —Jamison Carter

“I find myself returning to Sister Corita Kent’s first rule: Find a place you trust and try trusting it for a while. We certainly trusted what we had, and for a variety of reasons, that trust has been broken.” —Carter