It is astonishing, but painting desperately needs her defenders and explainers. This most primal of arts, which goes back to the very beginning of the human story, seems to confuse and repel much of contemporary civilisation. Like bad-omen comets, proclamations still come of the death of painting.
816 results for
winter
IT'S TURNED DARK and chilly and wet suddenly, and everywhere, I'm reading that September is everyone's favourite month. It's definitely not mine, but the closer we get to winter, the more I give in to the cosiness of the changing seasons and let myself begin looking forward to the holidays, which, amazingly, is less than three months away already.
AS THE CRISP air ushers in a new season, the fashion world undergoes its perennial metamorphosis, breathing life into our wardrobes with fresh inspiration.
FOR THE first time in a very long time, there were no Weekend Links last week. But there was a Sunday Letter, which explains why, and there was also a beautiful Autumn Mood Board to ease away these last days of summertime. The mornings now are crisp and there are already leaves on the ground.
There are many measures of success for a film or TV series. The most easily understandable are viewership metrics. Slightly less quantifiable is the amount of cover stories, articles, think pieces, blogs, social media posts, and articles inspired by a movie or show.
FOR SOME reason, we never paid much attention to American actress Dakota Johnson’s style before. Recently, however, we came across images of her on the set of the upcoming Celine Song film, Materialists, (starring Chris Evans, Pedro Pascal, and Johnson) and really love the clothes that her character wears in the movie.
WHEN I WAS little, pink was my absolute favourite colour. Although I like to think I’ve grown out of it and now tell people my favourite colour is black (which is true), pink still holds a special place in my heart.
Most people credit me with the birth of the Brat Pack. That’s flattering, but not really true. What happened was, I destroyed the Brat Pack. The Brat Pack was left for dead on the night I named them in 1985.
Humans are compelled to review. The five-star and 10-point rating systems just make implicit sense to us, each number having its own gravity and texture that can be transposed on to a gut-feeling or opinion.
This past summer, I booked a plane ticket to Los Angeles with the hope of investigating what seems likely to be one of the oddest legacies of our rapidly expiring decade: the gradual emergence, among professionally beautiful women, of a single, cyborgian face.
In the late 18th century, officials in Prussia and Saxony began to rearrange their complex, diverse forests into straight rows of single-species trees. Forests had been sources of food, grazing, shelter, medicine, bedding and more for the people who lived in and around them, but to the early modern state, they were simply a source of timber.
Some of my earliest memories are of summers with my grandparents, in New Delhi. I spent long, scorching months drinking lassi, playing cricket, and helping my grandparents find ripe mangoes at roadside markets.
Clemency and I first began discussing a collaboration nearly six years ago, sometime in 2018. Little did we know that a worldwide pandemic was looming, which would soon put everything on hold.
In the world of popular psychology, the work of one giant figure is hard to avoid: Carl Jung, the onetime associate of Sigmund Freud who died more than 60 years ago. If you think you have a complex about something, the Swiss psychiatrist invented that term. Are you an extrovert or an introvert? Those are his coinages, too. Persona, archetype, synchronicity: Jung, Jung, Jung.
LAST WEEK, during cardio, was watching a film in which two of the main characters were a British couple living somewhere in Italy. Italy, of course, was very much a main character itself, with its terracotta orange and olive green and blindingly sunny skies. It looked idyllic.
