Lifestyle
Turf is out. Native grasses are in. Here are 4 lush low-water options
Tearing out your lawn can be a tough decision, especially if you have children or dogs who love to roll and play.
Or — no judgment here — maybe you just enjoy the visual serenity of a swath of green in a region where the hills go brown in the summer.
The good news is there are low-water, lushly green native lawn alternatives to tall fescue, the most popular water-guzzling king of turf grasses. But here’s the truth about these other options:
“There isn’t anything out there, native or exotic, that is going to stay green all year round in Southern California without some water,” said horticulturist Carol Bornstein, native plant guru and author of two definitive books about California landscaping, including “Reimagining the California Lawn.”
Christie Mahr casts a shadow across a patch of Kurapia groundcover in the backyard of her Ventura home.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
The trick is understanding that less is more when it comes to watering any lawn, native grasses or no, she said.
“There is no lawn in Southern California that needs water every day, even in a super hot, dry microclimate,” she said, “You want to wean your lawn off that kind of life support by watering less often and more deeply — basically water when it needs it.”
Unfortunately many lawn owners haven’t gotten this message, said Jim Blair, a turfgrass specialist who oversees UC Riverside’s Turfgrass Research program. Most people are still overwatering their traditional turf lawns with frequent short sessions that encourage shallow, easily dried-out roots. And when they change over to native grass lawns, they don’t change their watering patterns, Blair said, ending up with diseased or dead native lawns due to overwatering.
Native grasses usually require less water than traditional turf lawns because their roots grow much deeper — up to 10 feet deep in some cases — allowing them to find water stored in the ground and weather longer periods of drought.
They’ve also adapted by going dormant during certain parts of the year, like Bermuda, a warm-season grass, which does fine in hot summer months but turns brown during the winter.
For instance Blue grama (Bouteloua gracilis) is one of the native grasses Bornstein favors for lawns. It does go dormant in the winter, she said, “with a blond coloration which I think is quite beautiful. But trying to keep it green all year is challenging because too much water will kill them” by rotting the roots.
So that’s another lesson about native grasses — your expectations will have to change along with your irrigation techniques, because turf lawns and native grass lawns aren’t interchangeable, said Baird.
John Ellis’ yard features his lawn of native fescue grasses, and an agave ‘blue glow’ plant.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
John Ellis lays in his lawn, surrounded by three kinds of native fescue grasses.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
Traditional turf grasses like tall fescue and Bermuda were developed for two purposes — “to withstand persistent low mowing and regular traffic,” Baird said. If that’s what you want, Baird said there is a Bermuda hybrid on the market, developed in Georgia called TifTuf that has the same low-water needs as native grasses.
But if you’re sick of mowing (or paying someone else to do it), or you just want to reduce water use while creating habitat for local pollinators, birds and other creatures, then native grasses can give you the (mostly) green you crave with a lot less effort and expenses.
These will not be the flat carpet lawns of yore — although Kurapia lawns come close, at least from a distance. Native bent grass (Agrostis pallens) or native fescues like Festuca rubra grow in graceful mounding swirls and tufts that catch the light like glistening swells on a lake. They are beautiful to behold but not so easy to run through.
And unless you plant sod, which is available with some native grasses or grass mixes, it can take a while for the grasses to knit together into what we think of as a traditional lawn.
That’s one of many reasons you should consider reducing the dimensions of your old turf lawn when you decide to plant a new lawn with native grasses. Create planting beds in part of the old lawn area to grow food for your family and/or support pollinators, birds and other local wildlife by planting native trees, shrubs and flowers.
Good drainage is critical to maintaining the health of native lawns, said Briana Lyon of California Wild Gardens in Pasadena, an online-only nursery whose products include native grass lawns. Some native wetland grasses like California Meadow Barley (Hordeum brachyantherum ssp. californicum) can live for a short time in standing water, but these are best used to line bioswales where you want to clean rainwater running off from roofs or streets.
Most native grasses prefer dry conditions and full sun. Some, like the fescues, can do well in shade, but Lyon recommends prepping the soil by tilling the top soil 4 to 6 inches deep and adding a mixture of compost and a drainage medium like decomposed granite or sand to encourage good drainage, especially if the ground previously had standing water during heavy rains.
The Kurapia groundcover, juxtaposed with concrete, in the backyard of Ray and Christie Mahr’s home.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
A corner of John Ellis’ fescue grass lawn.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
You don’t want to add too many amendments like compost or worm castings, however. “You don’t want to discourage the roots from doing a deep exploration by staying with the yummy stuff on top,” she said.
Weeds are also a problem, especially when the native grasses are trying to get established. Kurapia and some of the grasses can eventually grow dense enough to crowd out most weeds, as long as the weeds don’t get a foothold and crowd the natives out first, so expect to do some regular weed patrols the first year to keep unwanted plants away.
Finally, understand that the type of native grass you choose really depends on how you plan to use the space. If you want a relatively flat, easy-care space where pets and children can frolic then Kurapia may be your best choice. But if your biggest interest is creating an ornamental lawn that’s a feast for the eyes, then look towards the sculptural, undulating bent grasses or fescues.
Here’s a list of some of the more popular native grasses to consider, with this note too: Some of these grasses are native to other parts of North America too, or even other countries, in addition to California, so if in doubt, check the botanical names, consult with guides like Bornstein’s books or talk to native plant experts at the Theodore Payne Foundation, Tree of Life Nursery, the California Botanic Garden in Claremont or the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden.
A close up view of Kurapia groundcover at Christie and Ray Mahr’s Ventura home.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
1. Kurapia
People use lots of exclamation points when they talk about Kurapia, which, for the record, isn’t a grass at all. It’s a sterile patented hybrid of a native broadleaf groundcover from the verbena family commonly known as frog fruit or lippia (Phyla nodiflora), named after the Japanese hybridizer, Utsunomiya University professor Hitoshi Kuramochi, and the origin plant, lippia. Robert Sjoquist of Soils Solutions in Ventura can’t sing its praises high enough. Sjoquist is a distributor who sells native grasses all over Southern California, but Kurapia is one of his favorites, he said, because it spreads like a carpet with pretty clover-like flowers, requires almost no water or maintenance to stay beautifully green, quickly stabilizes hillsides and slopes and helps prevent wildfire damage by snuffing out embers as they fall.
It also spreads quickly and is relatively easy to propagate, which is why the breeder, Kurapia Inc., carefully guards its latest strains, Kurapia New White and Kurapia Pink (named for the color of its flowers). These new strains can only be purchased online, through the company, said senior manager Lawrence Ziese. They’re only available in plug form now, although the company hopes to have a sod version available soon. A flat of 72 plugs, which covers roughly 97 square feet, costs $173 for the “new white” color and $187 for the pink.
Ziese said the new versions grow more densely than the company’s first offering, known as Kurapia S1, which is grown in 2-by-5-foot sod sections by Delta Bluegrass in Stockton and delivered by truck. (West Coast Turf of Palm Desert also sells Kurapia S1 sod, but is currently out of stock.) Sod is more expensive — about $315 to $340 to cover roughly 100 square feet — but you also get an established lawn in less than half the time, said Sjoquist.
Christie and Ray Mahr stand with their dogs Maggie, front, and Colt on the Kurapia groundcover in their backyard.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
“It looks so good it almost looks like fake grass because of how uniform and low growing it is,” said Lyon. It thrives in poor soils, even sand and salty soils, as long as it has good drainage, she said. It’s important to keep it weeded in the beginning, until it becomes established.
Christie and Ray Mahr of Ventura say they and their dogs love the 3-year-old Kurapia lawn in their backyard. They planted the lawn themselves from plugs — a job that took just a couple hours, Christie said — and it took some maintenance the first few months to keep weeds from resprouting. But she and Ray say that’s nothing compared to the work that went in to mowing and watering the Marathon turf lawn they had before. Now they rarely water the lawn. It seems to get enough water from the drip lines for trees and other plants.
They use hand clippers to keep tendrils from growing beyond the lawn boundaries and Ray mows just once or twice a year to remove the flowers that come in the spring to early summer. “They most definitely brings bees to your garden,” Christie said. “I won’t even come out here and walk unless I’ve got tennis shoes on because otherwise you know you’re going to step on a bee or a butterfly.”
Lippia, used as an alternative to traditional lawn, in Redlands.
(Brian Chau)
2. Frog fruit, a.k.a. lippia (Phyla nodiflora)
The parent of Kurapia is endemic to California and many other parts of the world, including Texas and the southeastern coast of the United States. Like Kurapia, it needs very little water and thrives in heat. Southern California landscape designers looked into lippia as a lawn replacement in the 1970s, Lyon said, but quickly abandoned the idea “because it seeded so aggressively,” spreading into neighboring yards or planting areas where it wasn’t wanted.
But Brian Chau of Redlands said he hasn’t really seen that problem in his front yard. Chau usually blogs about fishing, but he created a YouTube video to show off his lush lippia lawn, which he planted in 2021. He first tore out his traditional lawn and planted yarrow, which didn’t do very well, so he tilled the yard again, removing the yarrow (which still sprouts up now and again) and planted lippia. Chau said he chose lippia rather than Kurapia because it was a “fraction of the cost” to purchase — $15 for a flat of roughly 50 plugs at the time, versus around $60 for Kurapia, he said.
He buried a drip irrigation system in his yard, which he doesn’t use at all during the cooler months, and turns on for just a few minutes two or three times a week during the hottest part of summer to keep his lawn watered. “It’s just a burst of water during those times, but now I’m trying to do it just once a week for a longer period, just to experiment.”
The lawn grows more leggy and less vigorously in shady parts of his yard, and like Kurapia, its flowers are a huge draw for bees and other pollinators, Chau said. “So if you’re allergic or terrified of bees, this lawn isn’t for you, but if you don’t mind bees, the lippia is great for attracting pollinators to our fruit trees and native plants.”
Chau said his son plays on the lawn regularly. “He runs around and beats the lawn down, but it doesn’t complain too much,” he said. “It always bounces back, but it would be detrimental to have an animal rooting around in it.” He uses hand clippers to trim back the plants trying to grow outside the lawn borders, and replants those cuttings to fill in areas that are looking thin. The cuttings “root very easily in water or moist soil,” he said, “so I don’t have to buy flats anymore.”
Native bent grass at the Carpenteria Seaside Park.
(Jeanette Marantos / Los Angeles Times)
3. Native bent grass (Agrostis pallens)
If you love the look of a wild meadow-like lawn, native bent grass is a beautiful and fairly durable choice. Lyon said bent grass makes one of the most pet and kid friendly native grass lawns.
The city of Carpenteria planted a bent grass lawn from seed when it created Seaside Park near the library in 2014, and it’s been a handsome, easy-care choice that requires little water, said Tiffany Smith, the city’s parks and facilities maintenance supervisor.
“We mow it probably every three months at the most, so three or four times a year, and the water savings are huge. We water with regular lawn sprinklers once a week in the summer for 20 minutes or so, just enough to get the water down 2 inches,” she said. “And we’ve had almost no weeds. Every once in a while a broad leaf weed comes up and we just pull it. … We love it.”
She said they mow the lawn down to about 3 inches tall, but it grows back quickly into luxuriant waves.
Carpenteria rarely sees summer temperatures much higher than 90, but in the hottest months the lawn never seems stressed — even after people have been sitting in it. It only gets light foot traffic, Smith said, but the city is so pleased with its performance after 10 years that it’s considering whether to remove the turf lawn around the library and replant with bent grass to create a uniform look.
“I bet we could easily cut our water use by two thirds,” she said.
Three native fescue grasses create a lush green meadow effect in the front yard of John Ellis’ Westlake Village home.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
4. Native fescues (Festucas)
If you want a lush, light-catching lawn to gaze upon, native fescues are one of your best bets, especially in a shady area, said Lyon.
Delta Bluegrass makes a mow-free sod mix of three native fescues — Idaho fescue (Festuca idahoensis), Molate fescue (Festuca rubra) and Western Mokelumne fescue (Festuca occidentalis) that requires very little care, said John Ellis, who replaced the 1,000-square-foot turf lawn outside his Westlake Village home with mow-free fescues in December 2022.
His children are grown and no pets play on the lawn out front, so it doesn’t get much traffic, Ellis said, “but I will tell you that every kid or dog that comes by rolls around the grass. They touch it and they’re walking in it.”
Too much traffic isn’t great for the fescues, however, said Lyon, because the fescues are probably the least drought tolerant of the native grasses, and incompatible with pets. “It kills patches of the lawn if a dog pees on it.”
But if you’re looking for sculptural beauty, this is the lawn for you. Ellis figures his irrigation costs have dropped by 60%, even in his area near Thousand Oaks where temperatures can easily hover around 100 degrees during the summer. He bought the sod through Soils Solutions and hired Robert Olsen of Goldenstate Landscapes in Camarillo to remove the old lawn and install a copper-lined drip irrigation system on a smart system that adjusts watering based on moisture in the ground. All told, he figures he spent $9,000 on the project, and is delighted with the results.
John Ellis’ lawn of native fescue grass, left, by his neighbor’s lawn, right.
(Michael Owen Baker / For The Times)
His biggest comment from neighbors is wondering if he plans to mow his lawn, Ellis said, but he likes the look of the grass flopping over. His work included installing a 12-inch barrier between his yard and his neighbor’s to ensure his grasses didn’t mingle with theirs, but the difference in color is startling. His neighbors’ lawns are both green and thick, but they look pale in comparison to his deep green growth.
Ellis said he’s had some issues with tendrils of his old Bermuda grass trying to grow through. But most weeds have been smothered, and he’s been able to pull out any Bermuda grasses he finds. “You have to stay on top of it,” he said, “but so far this has been the best choice for us.”
Lifestyle
Sunday Puzzle: P-A-R-T-Y words and names
On-air challenge
Today I’ve brought a game of ‘Categories’ based on the word “party.” For each category I give, you tell me something in it starting with each of the letters, P-A-R-T-Y. For example, if the category were “Four-Letter Boys’ Names” you might say Paul, Adam, Ross, Tony, and Yuri. Any answer that works is OK, and you can give answers in any order.
1. Colors
2. Major League Baseball Teams
3. Foreign Rivers
4. Foods for a Thanksgiving Meal
Last week’s challenge
I was at a library. On the shelf was a volume whose spine said “OUT TO SEA.” When I opened the volume, I found the contents has nothing to do with sailing or the sea in any sense. It wasn’t a book of fiction either. What was in the volume?
Challenge answer
It was a volume of an encyclopedia with entries from OUT- to SEA-.
Winner
Mark Karp of Marlboro Township, N.J.
This week’s challenge
This week’s challenge comes from Joseph Young, of St. Cloud, Minn. Think of a two-syllable word in four letters. Add two letters in front and one letter behind to make a one-syllable word in seven letters. What words are these?
If you know the answer to the challenge, submit it below by Wednesday, December 31 at 3 p.m. ET. Listeners whose answers are selected win a chance to play the on-air puzzle.
Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: We were just newlyweds when an emergency room visit tested our vows
“I’m his wife,” I said to the on-call doctor, asserting my place in the cramped exam room. It was a label I’d only recently acquired. A year ago, it had seemed silly to obtain government proof of what we’d known to be true for six years: We were life partners. Now I was so grateful we signed that piece of paper.
Earlier that morning, I’d driven my husband to an ER in Torrance for what we’d assumed was a nasty flu or its annoying bacterial equivalent. We’d imagined a round of industrial-grade antibiotics, and then heading home in time for our 3-year-old’s usual bath-time routine.
But the doctor’s face was serious. Machines beeped and whirred as my husband laid on the hospital bed. Whatever supernatural power colloquially known as a “gut feeling” flat-lined in my stomach.
“It’s leukemia,” she said, putting a clinical end to what had been our honeymoon period.
Only six months earlier, a female Elvis impersonator had declared us husband and wife. A burlesque dancer pressed her cleavage into both of our faces as our friends cheered and threw dollar bills. A wedding in Vegas was my idea.
After two years of dating Marty, a cute roller hockey player with an unwavering moral compass, I knew I wanted to have a child with him. It was marriage, not commitment, that unnerved me. I wanted romance, freedom and to do things my way. The word “wife” induced an allergic reaction.
As Marty and I became parents and navigated adulthood together, my resistance to matrimony started to feel like an outdated quirk. The emotional equivalent of a person still rocking a septum piercing long after they stopped listening to punk music.
Marty had shown me, over and over, what it was to be a teammate. He’d rubbed my back through hours of labor, made late-night runs for infant Tylenol and was never afraid to cry at the sad parts of movies or take the occasional harsh piece of feedback about his communication style. And like all good teams, we kicked ass together. So why was I still resisting something that meant so much to him? To our family?
One random Saturday, at the Hawthorne In-N-Out Burger, after Marty ordered fries as a treat for our son, I finally said, “Screw it. Let’s get married.”
The wedding day was raucous and covered in glitter. We both wore white. Our son’s jacket had a roaring tiger stitched onto the back and was layered over his toddler-size tuxedo T-shirt. Loved ones from all over the country flew to meet us in a tiny pink chapel. A neon heart buzzed over our heads as we vowed to “love each other in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”
I couldn’t have imagined then that the next chapel I’d be in would be the hospital prayer room. Or that I would have begged a God I struggle to believe in to please spare Marty’s life.
Unlike our decision to marry, acute leukemia came on suddenly. Over the course of a few weeks, Marty’s bone marrow had flooded his blood with malignant cells. Treatment was urgent. He was taken by ambulance from the ER to the City of Hope hospital in Duarte, a part of Los Angeles County we’d never had a reason to visit before.
Traditionally the 50th wedding anniversary is celebrated with gold, the 25th with silver and the first with paper. But we couldn’t even afford to look paper-far-ahead anymore. Instead, we celebrated that the specific genetic modifiers of Marty’s cancer were treatable, the good chemo days and his being able to walk to the hospital lobby to see our son for the first time in weeks.
Leukemia has taught me things such as: how to inject antifungal medication into the open PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) line in Marty’s veins, how to explain to our son that “Papa will be sleeping with the doctors for a long while so they can help him feel better” and that to do the hibbity-dibbity with a person going through chemo, you must wear a condom. But mostly my husband’s sickness has taught me about healthy love.
When we had a child together, we’d committed to being in each other’s lives forever. But marriage was different. We’d already made a promise to our son, but when we got married, we made one to each other and ourselves. We had gone all in.
Since his diagnosis two months ago, there have been so many ways we’ve shown love for each other. People assume that I would do all the caregiving, but it’s more than that. Yes, I’ve washed my husband’s feet when he couldn’t bend down, been the only parent at preschool dropoff and pickup, and advocated on Marty’s behalf to his health insurance with only a few choice expletives.
But my husband has also taken care of me. Even when he was nauseous, sweating and fatigued, Marty showed up. He made me laugh with macabre jokes about how the only way for us to watch anything other than “PAW Patrol” on TV together was for him to get hospitalized. He insisted that I make time to rest and bring him the car owner’s manual, so he could figure out why the check engine light had come on.
We’d promised in front of our closest friends and Elvis herself to love each other “for better or worse.” And when the worst arrived sooner than expected, we did more than love. We truly cared for each other as husband and wife.
The author is a writer whose short stories have been nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers and Best of the Net. She is working on a novel and lives in Redondo Beach with her husband and son. She’s on Instagram: @RachelReallyChapman.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
This painting is missing. Do you have it?
The missing 1916 painting Music, by Gabriele Münter. Its whereabouts have been unknown to the public since 1977. Oil on canvas. (Private collection. © 2025 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York/VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn)
The Guggenheim, New York
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The Guggenheim, New York
This is a story about a missing painting, from an artist you may never have heard of. Though she helped shape European modern art, German artist Gabriele Münter’s work was quickly overshadowed in the public’s mind by her 12-year relationship with noted abstract artist Wassily Kandinsky.
She met Kandinsky in Munich in 1902, and with his tutoring, she “mastered color as well as the line,” she told a German public broadcaster in 1957. Together with other artists, they founded an avant-garde arts collective called Der Blaue Reiter (The Blue Rider) in 1911.
Wassily Kandinsky’s Painting With White Border (Bild mit weißem Rand), 1913. Oil on canvas, Guggenheim Museum, New York City.
Allison Chipak/The Guggenheim, New York
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Allison Chipak/The Guggenheim, New York
At the time, most modern artists, like Kandinsky, were moving toward more and more abstract work. Not Münter. In her paintings, people look like people and flowers look like flowers. But her dazzling colors, simplified forms and dramatic scenes are startlingly fresh; her domestic scenes are so immediate that they feel like you’ve interrupted a crucial, private moment.
“Gabriele Münter was so pioneering, so adventurous in her adherence to life,” said Megan Fontanella, curator of modern art and provenance at the Guggenheim Museum in New York City. “She is revitalizing the still life, the landscape, the portrait genres, and presenting them in these really fresh and dynamic ways.”
Yet, perhaps due to her relationship with Kandinsky, her work was rarely collected by important museums after her death in 1962 (she herself said she was seen as “an unnecessary side dish” to him), and so her paintings largely disappeared from the public eye.
Now Münter is having a moment, with exhibitions this year in Madrid and Paris, as well as one currently at the Guggenheim in New York. The New York show is an expansive one and includes American street photography in the late 1890s, alongside over 50 paintings, from her dazzlingly colored European landscapes to portraits capturing the expressive faces of people she knew.
Gabriele Münter’s Self-Portrait in Front of an Easel (Selbstbildnis vor der Staffelei), circa 1908-1909. Oil on canvas. (© 2025 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York/VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn)
Bruce M. White/Princeton University Art Museum/Art Resource, N.Y.
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Bruce M. White/Princeton University Art Museum/Art Resource, N.Y.
Yet, when Fontanella was putting “Gabriele Münter: Contours of a World” together, there was one painting she couldn’t find: Music, from 1916.
In it, a violinist is playing in the center of a yellow room, with two people quietly listening. It’s set in a living room — but because it uses her wild colors and flattened figures, it feels vibrant and dramatic, not cozy or saccharine.
Fontanella said this painting is important because it provides a window into Münter’s life after she separated from Kandinsky, who had gone on to marry someone else. She was struggling financially, and she was no longer the promising young person she once was. But Fontanella said the painting shows she had found a new creative circle.
“There’s something really uplifting about that. You know, it speaks to her resilience, her sense of adaptation,” Fontanella said. Instead of showing those years as dark and challenging, it is serene and warm, joyful. “I think that’s really important because especially with a woman artist, it’s so easy to get tripped up in her biography and really see it colored by her romantic relationships when, in fact, the paintings tell a different story.”
Fontanella said she used every tool available to her to find Music. She worked with Münter’s foundation and contacted owners of collections in Europe and the United States, from institutions to private collectors. She read correspondence and catalogs from past exhibitions.
Gabriele Münter’s From the Griesbräu Window (Vom Griesbräu Fenster), 1908. Painting on board. (© 2025 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York/VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn)
Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus und Kunstbau München, on permanent loan from the Gabriele Münter and Johannes Eichner Foundation, Munich
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Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus und Kunstbau München, on permanent loan from the Gabriele Münter and Johannes Eichner Foundation, Munich
It’s not unusual for art to vanish from public view if it’s not held at an institution. Private collectors often want to keep their holdings quiet. If they don’t sell a particular work at an auction or lend it to a museum, only a very small number of people might know that it still exists and where it is.
Fontanella was able to trace Music to its last known owner — a German collector named Eugen Eisenmann, who had the painting in 1977.
“There was a moment where the collection was starting to be broken apart and dispersed and no longer being held by subsequent relatives or family members,” she said.
Then the trail ended.
Not the end of the story
But just because the painting hasn’t surfaced yet doesn’t mean it never will. Take the story of a piece called There are combustibles in every State, which a spark might set fire to. —Washington, 26 December 1786, depicting Shays’ Rebellion, one of 30 works in the Struggle series by artist Jacob Lawrence. A 2020 traveling exhibition organized by the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Mass., had brought the works together for the first time in 60 years.
Five of the paintings couldn’t be located, and the curators put placeholders where those paintings should have been: black-and-white photographs of the canvases if they existed, blank spaces if they didn’t.
“We didn’t have any image of it. There really was no trace,” said Sylvia Yount, the curator in charge of the American Wing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She co-curated the Met’s presentation of the exhibition with curator Randall Griffey. “We had decided to leave the missing panels as kind of an absence, to really underline the absence. There was a blank on the wall.”
And, then, the miracle.
A visitor to the exhibition went home, contacted a friend “and said, ‘I think you might have one of these missing panels,’” Yount explained.
The friend did. When Yount, Griffey and art conservator Isabelle Duvernois went to see the painting — which was just across Central Park from the Met in an apartment on the Upper West Side — “we walked in and immediately knew it was right,” Yount said.
Within about two weeks, it was hanging in the exhibition. Incredibly, not long later, a second panel was found. Because that one needed some conservation work and a new frame, it didn’t join the series at the Met, but it did become part of the show later as it traveled across the United States.
That kind of thing “doesn’t happen every day,” Yount said, laughing.
Could it happen again?
But Fontanella hopes that it could happen for Münter’s painting. She included a photograph of it in the catalog so that people would know what to look for.
“What I always hope with stories like this is that the painting will resurface in its own time, you know, when it wants to be discovered,” Fontanella said. “But there’s been so much genuine interest in Gabriele Münter as an artist, as a person, that I feel it’s only just on the horizon that this painting will come to light.”
“Gabriele Münter: Contours of a World” is on view at the Guggenheim in New York through April 2026.
Ciera Crawford edited this story for broadcast and digital. Chloee Weiner mixed the audio.
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