Economic recession. Climate disaster. Chaos in the Middle East. The world cries out for leaders who will face our biggest dilemmas, and all we get are short-sighted narcissists. Where are the great leaders of today?
When a photographer reviews 35 years of unposed family pictures—unexpected moments, children growing older—a symphony appears.
This summer in Manhattan, it was important to wait in line for an hour to see light designed by James Turrell. Many bought the hype. Many were angry afterward.
Multi-layered photographs show people’s inner lives merging with their environments—suggesting that what we see of reality is less than what actually exists.
Ear cleaners, knife grinders, street-side barbers—portraits of Indian tradesmen who maintain caste-prescribed professions.
Modern-day totem poles constructed from Americans’ favorite consumer materials—cars, beer cans, even cheeseburgers.
Irresistible watercolors of mouthy cowboys, automobile wrecks, boxing matches, rodeo clowns, and rock bands.
Good old Earth was nearly destroyed, almost extinguished, and threatened with slaughter every hour in cinemas this summer. And yet, here we are. Our film critics pinpoint the collapse of the apocalypse genre.
Square paintings that take the smallest things—a gas station’s roof, a swing set’s leg—and find unease in the most cheerful of circumstances.
A new book, Only in Burundi, provides a candid look into the post-conflict, everyday life of Burundians, from nuns to the president.
Much to the chagrin of his former 25-year-old self, a man in his forties—with no singing experience outside the shower—joins the village chorus. Terror, learning, and intense joy, all while making Brian Eno proud.
In the instance of slipping, there’s a moment of stillness just before you lose control. Selections from 10 years of a falling man’s self-portraits.