You can’t really talk about the current state of the L.A. art scene without hitting a massive, heart-shaped pothole in Arlington Heights. That pothole is the void left by the Underground Museum. It wasn't just a gallery. Honestly, calling it a "museum" almost felt too formal for what Noah and Karon Davis built in that row of storefronts on Washington Boulevard. It was a vibe, a community center, a literal backyard for Black brilliance, and a middle finger to the idea that high art belongs exclusively to the hills or the Westside.
The Underground Museum Los Angeles didn't start with a multi-million dollar endowment. It started with a vision of "pre-figurative" art—bringing world-class pieces to a neighborhood where kids could see a Matisse or a Kara Walker without having to navigate the intimidating marble halls of the LACMA. Noah Davis, a painter whose genius was cut short when he passed away at 32, wanted to bridge the gap. He literally cold-called the biggest institutions in the city until the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) finally agreed to a multi-year partnership. It was unprecedented. A tiny, artist-run space in a working-class neighborhood was suddenly swapping crates with the biggest heavyweights in the industry.
The Actual Truth About the Closure and the "Hiatus"
If you drive past the location today, the doors are locked. It’s quiet. For a long time, the website just had a cryptic message about a hiatus. This wasn't some corporate restructuring or a planned exit. In early 2022, the art world was rocked when Karon Davis and the board announced they were "shifting gears." This came after a period of intense internal friction and the sudden departure of the co-directors, Megan Lawson and Kristina Von Hoffmann.
It was messy. People were confused. You had a space that championed community and equity, yet reports surfaced about a disconnect between those lofty goals and the reality of running a high-pressure non-profit. It serves as a reminder that even the most beautiful cultural movements are made of people, and people are complicated. The Underground Museum Los Angeles is currently in a state of transition, but its DNA has already mutated and spread across the city’s cultural landscape.
The impact of "The Underground" isn't measured in square footage or ticket sales. It’s measured in how it changed the "who" and the "where" of art. Before Noah Davis, the idea of a "world-class museum in the hood" was treated as a charity project. He didn't want charity; he wanted excellence. He wanted a purple room with a $10 million painting where you could sit on a couch and just be.
Why Everyone Still Obsesses Over the Purple Garden
If you ever walked through the back of the gallery, you ended up in the garden. It was lush. It was quiet. It smelled like lavender and damp earth. This was the "meditation garden," and it was arguably the most important "exhibit" the Underground Museum Los Angeles ever produced.
✨ Don't miss: Cracker Barrel Old Country Store Waldorf: What Most People Get Wrong About This Local Staple
Artists would hang out there. Writers would sit for hours. It provided a sanctuary for a neighborhood that was rapidly changing. The garden was a physical manifestation of Noah's belief that "art is a basic human right." It wasn't about looking at a frame on a wall; it was about the environment that frame allowed you to inhabit.
- The garden featured species of plants that felt both local and exotic.
- It hosted yoga sessions and film screenings.
- The "Friday Night Movies" were legendary—think The Color Purple or Coming to America projected against a wall while people ate popcorn on lawn chairs.
- It wasn't curated for the "white cube" aesthetic; it was curated for comfort.
There’s a reason people still post photos of that garden years after the museum stopped regular programming. It represented a safe space for Black joy in a city that often feels like it's trying to price that joy out of existence.
The MOCA Partnership: A Blueprint or a Warning?
The 2015-2018 partnership with MOCA was supposed to be the gold standard for institutional collaboration. Noah Davis convinced then-director Philippe Vergne to lend works from MOCA’s permanent collection to the Arlington Heights space. It was a bold move. It meant that a resident of Crenshaw or Mid-City didn't have to pay for parking downtown or deal with the "polite" surveillance of museum guards to see a masterpiece.
This was revolutionary. But it also raised questions about sustainability. Can a grassroots organization maintain its soul when it tethers itself to a massive institution? Some critics argued that it made the Underground Museum a satellite of the establishment. Others saw it as a Trojan Horse—using the establishment's resources to feed the community.
When Noah passed away, Karon Davis took the mantle. She didn't just maintain it; she expanded it. Shows like "Artists of Color" and "Water & Power" weren't just exhibitions; they were statements. They forced the L.A. art world to look south of the 10 freeway.
🔗 Read more: Converting 50 Degrees Fahrenheit to Celsius: Why This Number Matters More Than You Think
What’s Actually Happening Now?
Right now, the physical space of the Underground Museum Los Angeles is dormant. But let’s be real—the "Underground" was never just the building. The alumni of the museum, the artists who found their footing there, and the curators who learned how to work outside the lines are everywhere.
You see the influence in spaces like Residency Art Gallery in Inglewood or the California African American Museum (CAAM), which has seen a massive surge in contemporary relevance. The "Underground effect" proved there is a massive, hungry audience for high-level art that doesn't require a tuxedo or a gala invite.
Karon Davis is still a force in the art world. Her own work—haunting, life-sized plaster sculptures—continues to be shown globally. While the museum's future as a physical destination remains a giant question mark, its legacy is a permanent part of Los Angeles history. It shifted the center of gravity.
The Lesson for Future Art Spaces
Building something like the Underground Museum Los Angeles is hard. Like, incredibly hard. It requires a level of audacity that most people don't have. You’re fighting gentrification, institutional gatekeeping, and the sheer financial weight of keeping a non-profit alive in one of the most expensive cities on Earth.
The takeaway? Don't wait for permission. Noah Davis didn't wait for a grant to start. He rented a storefront. He painted the walls. He made the art. If you're looking to start a space, the Underground Museum is your case study in "doing it anyway."
💡 You might also like: Clothes hampers with lids: Why your laundry room setup is probably failing you
- Community first, art second. If the people in a three-block radius don't care about your space, you've failed.
- High-low mixing works. You can have a world-class painting next to a bowl of fruit for the neighbors. It doesn't diminish the art; it elevates the room.
- Physical space matters. Digital galleries are fine, but there is no substitute for a garden where people can breathe the same air.
- Legacy is messy. It’s okay if things don't last forever. Some of the most impactful cultural moments are the ones that burn bright and then leave us wanting more.
Actionable Steps for L.A. Art Lovers
Since you can't walk into the Underground Museum today, what do you do? You support the ecosystem it helped create.
Visit the Neighborhood Galleries
Don't just go to the Broad. Head to Band of Vices on West Adams. Check out Art+Practice in Leimert Park. These spaces carry the torch that Noah and Karon lit. They are independent, community-focused, and fiercely curated.
Follow the Artists, Not Just the Institutions
Look up the artists who were featured in the museum's final years. Follow names like Deana Lawson, Henry Taylor, and Karon Davis herself. See where they are showing. The Underground was a hub, and the spokes of that wheel are now everywhere.
Keep the Conversation Alive
Talk about why these spaces fail or go on hiatus. It’s usually not for a lack of talent; it’s a lack of structural support. If you want "the next" Underground Museum, you have to show up for the small spaces before they become famous. Buy a print. Go to the opening. Bring a friend who thinks they "don't like art."
The Underground Museum Los Angeles changed the map. Even if the doors stay shut, the border it erased between the "fine art world" and the "real world" can never be put back up. That’s the real win.