Hospital of Emotions

By Melanie Chapman

There is much to appreciate about the new pop-up exhibition Hospital of Emotions, currently on view at St. Vincent Medical Center (2131 W. Third Street, Los Angeles) until July 31. But if you want to maximize the benefits of your visit, avoid the bombardment of images now flooding the internet and even consider not reading this review. Like seeing all the best parts of a movie by watching the trailer, it is better to just go, and go soon, with as little advanced exposure as possible. Thus, you will experience (and it truly is an "experience") this impressive installation with fresh eyes and an open heart. As is often the case with a real hospital, one never really knows how things will turn out when you walk through the doors, but one can always hope for the best.

Structured around the theme of emotions, 70 artists from across the globe were invited to respond to specific prompts and fill former hospital rooms however they saw fit. Occupying four floors, each room offers a unique and, in some cases, transformative experience. Starting with "Resilience" on the top floor and working your way through "Joy," "Sadness," "Gratitude," "Anger," "Compassion," "Hope," and "Fear," the viewer is free to roam at one's own pace through the halls and peer into spaces once dedicated to the healing arts of medicine.

Many of the artists utilize hospital beds and other objects commonly found in a hospital, such as the medical beakers and glass tubes carefully strewn about in Room #14 by Kunna Haan, or the hundreds of plastic-packed syringes in Room #80 by Emily Strange. Some of the artists have taken a minimalist approach, limiting themselves to a reduced palette, as is the case with Room #4 in the Resilience department created by Lenny Gerard, which features white surge protectors sprouting small green plants against a Pepto-Bismol pink background, or the clear floating figures by Dongpu Ling in Room #78.

Other artists have fully embraced maximalism, including one of the likely fan favorites, Room #20 by Guy "Dioz" Bloom, featuring bright, chaotic graffiti and larger-than-life-sized monsters that represent hidden emotions. This piece succeeds in fulfilling its mission statement and offers both a boldly colorful visual treat and a distinct sense of claustrophobia. Another excellent use of space and theme is found in Allison Reber's Room #17, which imagines a resilient mother nature reclaiming her territory through plants pushing up through the floor tiles and blossoms overtaking the bed and the medical books.

Many of the most impactful installations incorporate the imposing operating equipment that descends from the ceilings and cautionary signs still mounted to the doors. One particularly effective use of space is Javier Estrada's Twister-themed Room #07, with the bold primary colors of the classic party game repeated with colored dots nearly obscuring the pre-existing signage and machinery, and human-like figures placed curiously throughout this large room. Although this room is found in the "Joy" section, the more time spent in it, the more the twisted part of this Twister-themed piece becomes apparent. The video of human figures engaged in the game playing in an endless loop on the retro-shaped television and the accompanying soundtrack has a macabre energy, and the placement of the figures within the room is also successfully disturbing.

To this viewer, the rooms which are the most impactful are those that provide a sensorial experience — they do not just show, they evoke emotions. Standouts include Room #27 by Kim Farbota, featuring a hospital bed with a light-filled hole in the center and a dynamic arrangement of knotted white twine reflected by mirrored walls; "Breathworks" by Anna Matsumoto and Bhumikorn Kongtaveelert in Room #6, with pulsating red vines of light and a subtle soundscape (nearly drowned out by the incongruently happy pop music piped into the hallways); and Margui's installation in Room #21, in which the viewer is invited inside the artist's recreation of their own epileptic seizure. With accompanying audio and the interplay of changing colors refracted through shards of iridescent gels, this is a piece worth slowing down for.

Finally, take the time to watch the entirety of the film running in Room #75, a collaborative piece by Paul Anand and Veterans Stand Together. The voices of three different soldiers who ultimately could not bear the weight of their military experiences, projected in a darkened room full of genuine artifacts, is very moving, and ties the entire exhibition to the planned new use of St. Vincent. Soon to be transformed into a center for behavioral health, these works elevate the space beyond a kitschy art pop-up, beyond the Exit Through the Gift Shop vibe, and above the potentially problematic roots of the show's funders.

You will likely feel some of your own emotions after your stay in this hospital. It's worth the cost and the time spent. You should go.

Hospital of Emotions St. Vincent Medical Center 2131 W. Third Street, Los Angeles On view through July 31, 2026 hospitalofemotions.com

Photos by Melanie Chapman