In the sprawl of Los Angeles, connection can feel more like a punchline than a practice. Its dwellers are linked by freeways but often separated by circumstances. And traffic. Always traffic.
But Benjamin Critton and Heidi Korsavong—the curators, co-founders, and life partners behind Los Angeles’ Marta gallery—are designing intimacy in a metropolis of missed connections. Since 2019, they’ve tapped into a broad community of friends, colleagues, and collectors to promote a more inclusive and experimental view of the arts.
The result? A radically different space where artists and designers can explore the unexpected and where community becomes the medium.
At Marta, there’s no arbitrary line between art and design, emerging and established, or serious and playful.
What began as Critton’s graphic design studio in Echo Park transformed when they recognized its deeper potential. The space could be more than a workplace—it could be a connector. Their opening show, Alex Reed’s pleasantly named “International Ceramics Friendship Park,” further set the vision.
“It was an excellent example and starting point of the kind of broadness and optimism … of transitional works and non-traditional works that we were excited about showing and exploring,” Critton explains of the show, a utopic vision for aging artists in the form of communal kilns, universal housing, and restorative baths. Presented as a 1:100 scale 4' x 4' architectural model, this miniature urban plan was Marta’s manifesto made tangible.
Each Marta exhibition opens the door to new collaborations—and often extends beyond a single dimension, accompanied by print takeaways, smaller token editions, or other accessible ephemera. For example, in 2020’s “Spirits of the Trees,” Lindsay Muscato and Joshua Friedman’s yakisugi furniture work inspired a charcoal-infused cocktail by artist and pal Ben Sanders, expanding the creative community while also creating a multisensory experience for attendees.
“How do we take care of our artists as they age, and can we extend their ability to practice as long as possible?” Korsavong asks. In those questions, she reveals Marta gallery’s deeper insight: Sustainability isn’t just environmental—it’s deeply human.
Accordingly, the gallery has outgrown its first location, affectionately remembered as “Little Marta,” and relocated to Los Feliz at a former indoor-outdoor auto repair garage with double-height ceilings to offer new dimensions for work, presentation, and dialogue.
Look around, and you’ll notice a leftover chain hoist that could one day display light sculptures. Their garden, landscaped by Terremoto, provides a more natural viewing environment for ceramics. A humble studio space upstairs can house traveling artists. The gallery’s negative space allows for freer circulation among patrons and the work itself.
Their programming philosophy mirrors this spatial thinking.
Marta gallery gravitates toward artists at inflection points—creators exploring transitional possibilities, pushing beyond established bodies of work into uncharted territory.
“Phantom-22,” by Minjae Kim, embodies this approach. In the artist’s second solo presentation at Marta gallery, Kim expands on his 2021 debut, “I Was Evening All Afternoon,” using sculpture, set decoration, production design, and prop-making to construct Los Angeles itself from plaster, Douglas fir, and fiberglass.
“There’s a chameleonic nature to his output that also defies knowing what will come next,” Critton observes. “That leaves people—ourselves included—on the happy edge of their seat.”
That place of potential is where Marta gallery thrives, whether to platform an emerging voice or provide an accessible entry point for young collectors. In a city famous for its distances, they’ve built a space where a community has a place to connect with their curiosity. A place where anything is possible.
The art of the Shell
To celebrate the 75th anniversary of the Eames Shell Chair, Herman Miller worked with artists on a series of posters. The collective included Marta’s own Benjamin Critton, who noted: “The chairs themselves are authored forms, but they allow something like 'co-authorship' in their would-be user or collector.”