When your identity and purpose are rooted in making objects, what happens when all of those objects are reduced to ash? What becomes of the artist when not just the studio, but the home, the archives, the tools, the detritus of life—everything—is gone? My House Burned Down brings together artists who have experienced the destruction of their home by fire. The exhibition includes those affected by the recent Los Angeles fires of 2025, as well as others who have endured individual, isolated blazes. It asks: how does fire shape artmaking in the days that follow catastrophe? And how does it continue to burn years—or decades—later? After the fire, many people tried to comfort me with the image of the phoenix rising from the ashes—rebirth, transformation, triumph. But I don’t feel reborn. I don’t feel triumphant. I feel exhausted. I feel the literal loss of everything I’ve ever owned, and it is, frankly, incredibly inconvenient. This exhibition is not about inspiration or silver linings. It’s about the complex emotional, practical, and artistic aftermath of disaster. I eschewed any subtext in titling the show, and trusted the artists to find meaning in disaster rather than ascribing it to them. What’s left behind when everything burns?