Contemporary war is no longer only a matter of territory and arms; it is also a visual phenomenon that penetrates homes and consciences through screens and social media. Many young people cannot, or do not know how to, shield themselves from that emotional tempest. Yet some have discovered ways of conjuring it. The photographic camera can become an extension of body and consciousness.

For some time now, fashion—and particularly the advertising that shadows it—has put forth powerful images of Black women. Not the average African American—an archetype we might briefly allow ourselves to treat as stereotype—nor the women born in Europe, but those who come from, dwell in, or have only just arrived from the deepest heart of Africa.

If there is something that substantially differentiates the socioliberal left from today’s woke left, it is the politics of cancellation. And if there is a figure that embodies that debate in the world of cinema, it is the German filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl, author of two highly celebrated documentaries, pioneering in many ways, which she made on commission from Adolf Hitler. It is not the first time nor will it be the last time that we talk about the way of judging the relationship between art and politics

When the prospect of some impending misfortune crosses our mind, we knock on wood. When someone whispers another’s calamity, we knock again. In truth, we spend the day rapping at it. Often it isn’t even real wood. And if such a gesture could truly ward off the avoidable, every carpenter would be the luckiest man alive. Both Joseph and his son Jesus might have been. On one hand, seen through today’s eyes...

Giorgio Armani died on September 4, 2025, at the age of ninety-one, as confirmed by the Armani Group. He passed peacefully at his home in Milan, surrounded by loved ones, and remained actively bound to his work until his final days, pouring his energy into collections and projects still in motion.

Last week I came across this image in nearly every major newspaper I usually consult. The moment I first saw it, I saved it immediately—not only because it gave me a sense of quiet delight, but also because it seemed perfectly suited for this very section. When it began multiplying across the media, I imagined the exhilaration must have been universal. Most readers, I suspect, felt a similar surge of joy.

This image seized my attention at once. I suppose it was conceived—or chosen—precisely to provoke that effect on a massive scale. Within the advancing ranks of women soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army of China, one face stands out: the second from left to right. Is it mere chance?

I hold vivid the memory of the spring of 2020, when the pandemic, near-total isolation, and the severe quarantines imposed by the government left me trapped in a suffocating mental standstill. My partner at the time managed to stay in my apartment on weekends. Among the few sources of solace that reached us within that suspended atmosphere created by the city’s restrictions were the videos of the Chinese YouTuber Li Ziqi (李子柒)...

It’s astonishing—over 40,000 people have signed a petition to block the French government from lending the Bayeux Tapestry to Britain. Yes, that’s right: a concerned multitude insists the ancient fabric is too fragile for the journey.
The campaign was spearheaded by Didier Rykner, the art historian behind La Tribune de l’Art, who argues that President Macron should have heeded the advice of conservators and restorers instead of green-lighting the loan to the British Museum.

Perhaps prompted by a timely confession—or by something closer to a revelation tinged with the paranormal—a journalist from El Español published today an article suggesting that sharing every moment is no longer the axis of the digital experience. It reads as if announcing a trend I cannot find anywhere. Perhaps it is simply that my generation, the people I follow and who follow me, are no longer inclined to chase trends.

This article has little of true interest. What catches my attention, however, is the way its original content has drifted from one outlet to another, as if there were nothing else in the world worth recounting. Perhaps it belongs to a secret chain of good fortune. This is my extract of an extract of yet another extract, and so on, until the original author dissolves into the distance. Take it as a nocturnal diversion and as a reiteration of the open secret that most cultural blogs venture into the fields to harvest the grain that will be baked into the bread of the mornings to come.

This past weekend, Annex Gallery carried out a working visit to Louisville, Kentucky, with the purpose of attending a talk offered by several Cuban artists on the challenging process of sustaining their creative practice within an economic, social, political, and even climatic context radically different from the one they had once known. The conversation took place at noon in the main hall of Louisville Visual Art and extended for nearly two hours. Four Cuban artists from the group engaged the local audience in dialogue about their experiences as emigrants while also delving into specific aspects of their work.

Leafing —digitally— through the latest issue of Tech Life magazine, I come across this advertisement for Luminar 4. I was almost seduced—abducted, rather—by the promise of a digitally retouched future.
A brief investigation confirms that Luminar is a photo-editing software developed by Skylum. It is built upon artificial intelligence and stirs considerable curiosity in the market of credulous souls, among the devotees of technological tinsel and those with very little resistance to the allure of advertising.

For those arriving from South Florida—particularly from cities like Miami—Michael Coppage’s exhibition at the Annex Gallery may resonate differently than it would for a viewer from the Midwest. This is not to suggest a hierarchy of readings, but rather to acknowledge that the lived experience of Caribbean and Latin American diasporas, especially those who have made a life in Miami, offers a particular lens through which to approach this work.

American fashion designer Willy Chavarría, in collaboration with Adidas Originals, introduced the Oaxaca Slip-On, a black-molded, open-toe shoe whose aesthetic directly recalls the huaraches of Villa Hidalgo Yalálag, Oaxaca. The controversy erupted when it came to light that the shoe was being manufactured in China, and that the communities responsible for the craft had neither been consulted nor acknowledged in the creative process.