Eliyah Mesayer’s state for the stateless is not rooted in a specific place or geographic site, but in human encounters and alchemical connections.
The waves in Kinga Bartis’s painting Egg timer do not move in vain.
Some of the webs found in Charlotte Johannesson’s artistic practice and why spinning and weaving the past into the future is so important.
Elisabeth Haarr, this year’s Festival Exhibitor at Bergen Kunsthall, thinks we know far too little about textiles and the place they hold in the cultural history of the world.
Eva-Lisa Bengtson could never fully live as the person she really was. But she paved the way for an entire movement and left a unique archive of Swedish trans history.
To put it wittily: the romantic in me has never seen a more realistic vision of Rondane than Harald Sohlberg’s.
Theorist McKenzie Wark thinks we misunderstood the utopian.
Eddie Figge’s paintings from the 1989 São Paulo Biennale should be shown in schools as proof that our planet has had visitors from a distant civilisation.
For twenty-five years, artist and writer Leif Holmstrand has worked with experiences of psychosis, prostitution, and transsexuality in a highly eclectic practice. Now, he has collected it all in a new book.
Some words around what it meant when Cecilia Bjartmar Hylta abstracted the act of masturbation into a large vibrating dildo wall. Or, why we feel sick making art.
In Good Speaker, Elise Macmillan reconstructs from memory a radio commercial she heard during her early youth.
Hertha Hansons’s painting reminds me of something. Perhaps it’s just a feeling, the meaning of which shifts, surfaces, and disappears.