Sunset Saving LA

Three months ago, the fires that ravaged Pacific Palisades and Altadena forever altered the lives and contours and communities of Los Angeles and yet again brought to the fore the risks and rewards of living in the West, a region that reasserts its wildness when we least expect it. This issue is a memorial, an homage, and the beginning of a blueprint to protect and revive the California dream, which in so many ways is the dream of the West writ large. We’ve gathered survivors, heroes, thought leaders, and people from all walks of life to speak to the pain and loss, share hope, and provide a path forward. But fires aren’t the only thing threatening the Western dream. And while we can’t control the wind or the heat, we…

We’ve been here before. Disaster. Resilience. Rebuilding. When the fires struck Los Angeles, here at Sunset we immediately thought of the seminal edition of the magazine published immediately following the devastating 1906 San Francisco earthquake. An illustration by the great Western artist Maynard Dixon entitled “Spirit of the City” featuring a woman boldly rising above the city on fire graces its cover. Despite the fact that their offices were destroyed, much of the city leveled, and one-sixth of it further destroyed by fire, the editors took it upon themselves to publish a slim eight-page pamphlet. Over the coming year, the editors went on to champion the reconstruction, celebrate the heroes, mourn the losses, and suggest best practices for building a better West in another three issues. But that first issue…

Written in 1913 by Canadian immigrant Francis Silverwood (the owner of Silverwood’s Clothing Store in Downtown L.A.) and composed by Abraham Frankenstein (the director of the Orpheum Theater Orchestra), the song celebrates the state’s natural wonders and landmarks. According to the State of California Capitol Museum, while the song was under copyright, proceeds from the sale of the song went to charitable organizations. It was designated the state song in 1951, and given statutory recognition in 1988 after the copyright expired. The song and its iconic illustration are reminders of how fortunate we are as Californians to live in a beautiful state.  I. I love you, California, you’re the greatest state of all.I love you in the winter, summer, spring and in the fall.I love your fertile valleys; your dear…

All our angels have gone;This smoldering dawn, we soldier on;We’ve proved ourselves strong;Not from how badly we’ve burned;But how bravely we bond. Apocalypse does not mean ruin, but revelation;In devastation, this infernus has injured us,But it cannot endure us.Even in the surreal, we do not surrender.We emerge from the embers. The hardest partIs not disaster, but the afterScorched earth is where the heart hurts;What we restore first,Where we start the work. Today, we mourn,Tomorrow reborn;We end the burning,Befriend the hurting,Mend those who face the flame.We reclaim our city’s name;A revelation that only this place tells:To find our angels, all we need doIs look within ourselves. Amanda Gorman is the youngest presidential inaugural poet in U.S. history, an award-winning writer, and cum laude graduate of Harvard University. Her books Change Sings,…

When putting this issue together, we knew we wanted our cover to feature the work of an artist with a deep connection to the city, much as Western artist and illustrator Maynard Dixon had with San Francisco when he created the cover of the issue of Sunset published after the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. We quickly landed on Alex Israel, who was born in LA and perhaps takes inspiration from this city more than any other contemporary artist. Israel is adept at mining and reframing LA iconography: whether he’s reimagining the tsunami warning wave, building miniature dioramas of a fantastical Sunset Strip, or producing multimedia escapist Southern California beach narratives, his love for LA is palpable, poppy, and transcendent. His Noir collection of paintings recently exhibited at Gagosian ennoble establishments…

From the foothills of Altadena to the coastal slopes of the Pacific Palisades, nature reminded us of its unbridled and overwhelming power in a single, sweltering afternoon in early January. In the weeks since the devastating fires, I’ve wondered whether it’s still worth it: worth staying, rebuilding, and holding on to the faith I have in this heartbreaking place where I was born and raised. Yet even under hazy skies and the faint smell of smoke, California’s magic remains—a defiant promise in the face of destruction—reminding us, even now, why this broken yet remarkable place is still worth fighting for. In the aftermath of such devastation, questions loom: Can we afford to rebuild? Should we hold on to what remains of the California Dream? The fires, of course, are a…