In 2022, Patricia Fernandez made “Cups for Spring Equinox” as an edition of ceramic cups made in a breast shape, with a nipple for a stem. She invited guests to share a drink during a moment in time, in a vessel that cannot be put down unless its contents are consumed. This work considers our shared responsibilities as caretakers of our future, and ponders on the cords that bind us. This event was part of Michael Ned Holte’s exhibition “how we are in time and space” for the Armory in Pasadena.

Claire Nereim’s work is grounded in research about fractal geometry, botanical ornament, and representations of maternal bodies through art history. During her residency she worked on a series of drawings.

An ongoing project to convert a travel trailer into Ian James’ KHLZ radio station, which will broadcast locally with programming and New Age music.

Jenny Yurshansky begins her research on a project that recognizes a need to create environmentally friendly energy sources that do not rely on petrochemicals. In Boron, California, this is happening by razing 5000 Joshua trees, a critically endangered ancient endemic species. Her research explores the disquieting experience of encountering an ordered and contained nature that has been unraveled and disentangled from the biome to which it is endemic.

Schuyler Hazard is a transdisciplinary artist who explores interstitial spaces through the use of polysemic materials and technologies. While in residence, Hazard will be working on a new project in which she experiments with field recordings taken at her family’s gravesites to answer the question: What do my loved ones hear now?

Jill Schock’s ongoing relationship with Casa Sunny Luna reveals a body of work rooted in grief, embodiment, and the cultural denial of death. Across three years, the space has supported the creation of her Grief Yoga class, the beginning of her reflections on death denial and plant medicine, and now the preservation of three years of anonymous grief letters left in her Chinatown studio.

This act of preservation is central to Jill’s work as a death doula. The letters are intimate, anonymous, and public all at once: evidence of what people carry, and what they need a place to release. By tending to them, Jill is not simply archiving paper; she is caring for a collective record of grief.

Casa Sunny Luna has become a threshold in Jill’s practice: a place where grief becomes movement, research becomes ritual, and preservation becomes an act of care.