The dust hasn't even settled on the David Geffen Galleries at LACMA and people are already reaching for their pitchforks. It’s the kind of architectural drama Los Angeles thrives on. We love a good billionaire-funded controversy. But this isn't just about a new building on Wilshire Boulevard. It’s about whether a museum should be a temple for art or a playground for architects. If you’ve seen the "inkblot" or "pancake" design, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Peter Zumthor’s vision is finally taking physical shape, and the public isn't holding back.
I’ve been tracking the discourse since the first renderings leaked years ago. Back then, it was all theoretical. Now that the concrete is poured and the glass is up, the theory has hit the reality of the L.A. skyline. Critics call it a missed opportunity. Supporters say it’s the future. Most regular museum-goers? They just want to know if they can find the bathroom without a GPS.
Why LACMA Readers Are Fuming
The letters coming into editorial desks aren't just polite disagreements. They’re visceral. People feel like something was stolen from them. LACMA used to be a sprawling, if slightly disjointed, campus that felt integrated into the city. The new David Geffen Galleries changed that. By bridging over Wilshire Boulevard, the building literally tries to rise above the city, and many locals aren't buying the elevation.
One common complaint is the loss of square footage. It’s the great paradox of the Geffen Galleries. We spent hundreds of millions of dollars to end up with less gallery space than we started with. Think about that for a second. In a city that constantly expands, our premier art institution decided to shrink. You don't have to be a math genius to see why that rubs people the wrong way. The permanent collection—the heart of the museum—is being squeezed.
The Concrete Problem
Zumthor loves concrete. We get it. It’s his signature. But in the bright, unforgiving L.A. sun, that massive amount of grey can feel heavy rather than "minimalist." Readers have compared the aesthetic to everything from a freeway overpass to a futuristic airport terminal. It lacks the warmth people expect from a space meant to house centuries of human creativity.
Then there’s the light. The galleries are designed to use natural light, which sounds great on paper. But art is fragile. When you prioritize glass walls, you limit what you can actually hang on those walls. It's a classic case of form fighting function. The building wants to be a sculpture, but the art needs a home.
The Bridge to Nowhere Mentality
Spanning Wilshire Boulevard was a bold move. It’s the defining feature of the Geffen Galleries. It’s also the most hated. Critics argue it turns the museum into a literal tunnel for cars. Instead of a destination, it becomes a backdrop for your morning commute.
I’ve heard architects argue this "connectivity" is a win for urbanism. I disagree. It feels like a gimmick that cost too much and delivered too little. When you stand under it, you aren’t thinking about Picasso. You’re thinking about the exhaust fumes and the noise. It disconnects the viewer from the art by constantly reminding them they’re hovering over a busy eight-lane road.
Small Galleries and Big Egos
If you walk through the plans, the gallery layouts feel tight. They’re "intimate," which is museum-speak for "small." For a city like Los Angeles, which prides itself on scale and grandeur, these pod-like rooms feel restrictive.
- Limited Wall Space: The curved walls look cool but are a nightmare for hanging large-scale paintings.
- Flow Issues: The layout forces a specific path, killing the joy of wandering and discovering art by accident.
- The "Squished" Effect: High ceilings are gone in favor of a horizontal sprawl that feels compressed.
People remember the old Bing Theater and the Ahmanson building. They weren't perfect, but they felt like a museum. The Geffen Galleries feels like an experiment that the public is being forced to fund and live with.
How to Actually Experience the New LACMA
Despite the outcry, the building is here. It’s not going anywhere. If you’re planning to visit, you need to change your expectations. Don't go looking for the old LACMA experience. It’s dead.
First, go for the architecture itself. Treat the building as the primary exhibit. The way Zumthor plays with shadows in the concrete corridors is actually quite stunning if you ignore the fact that there’s supposed to be art there. Second, check the schedule for rotating exhibits. Since the permanent collection is being rotated more heavily due to the space constraints, you’ll see different things every time you go.
What the Critics Got Right
The critics were right about the cost. Pushing past $700 million for a building that reduces your capacity is a hard pill to swallow. They were also right about the "fortress" feel. From the street, the building can look uninviting, a far cry from the open-air pavilion vibe that used to define the campus.
What the Critics Got Wrong
It isn’t all bad. The transparency of the ground floor is a genuine win. Seeing through the building to the park and the tar pits creates a sense of place that the old, fortress-like walls lacked. There’s a certain "L.A. Noir" beauty to the dark concrete and the way it reflects the palm trees at sunset. It’s moody. It’s weird. It’s very Los Angeles.
The Verdict on the Geffen Galleries
We’re in a period of mourning for the LACMA we used to know. That’s normal. Every major architectural shift in this city—from the Getty to Disney Hall—was met with skepticism. But the David Geffen Galleries feels different because it feels like a step backward in utility.
You can’t fix the square footage. You can’t move the building off Wilshire. We’re stuck with this "horizontal skyscraper." The real test won't be the opening day reviews. It’ll be five years from now. Will people still be talking about the building, or will they be talking about the art? If it’s the former, Zumthor failed. If it’s the latter, maybe we all just need to get used to the concrete.
If you want to see it for yourself, skip the weekend crowds. Go on a Tuesday afternoon. Walk the perimeter first. Look at how it sits against the Resnick Pavilion. Then go inside and see if those small galleries feel like a squeeze or a hug. Just don't expect the LACMA you grew up with. That place is gone, replaced by a $750 million inkblot that we’ll be arguing about for the next fifty years.
Check the LACMA website for the latest gallery rotations before you drive down. Parking is still a nightmare, so consider the Metro D Line if you want to avoid the $20 garage fees. Bring your own perspective—the building certainly brings its own.
