Issue 3
Spring 2016

About Paris, our hero Ellsworth Kelly was not ambiguous: it was the city that made him an artist. Come November, with an unfathomable assault on concertgoers and café patrons, the French capital had become ground zero of a global showdown around citizenship, freedom, and coexistence.
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The Robot’s Mixtape

by Deirdre Loughridge

The boundary between man and machine became foggy long before the advent of Instagram and Spotify. Your computer is already smarter than you; might it soon have better taste, too?


by Daniel Fairfax

Anri Sala has never turned back from his early training in cinema. But his newest videos reveal an artist who puts more faith in soundtracks than in scripts

The Southern Dynasty

by Florencia Malbrán

For the first time in 12 years, Argentina’s president is no longer named Kirchner. A postmortem of the art of the “K Era,” and of its vehement debates over freedom of expression


Money Changes Everything

Rio prepares for the Olympics, Brasília prepares for an impeachment — and a Curitiba museum shows a shocked Brazil the impounded art of corrupt apparatchiks. Notes on the tax authority as curator
by Silas Martí


Neïl Beloufa

“I have this fantasy that cinema is the last glittering place, or it’s one of the last. I think in our parents’ generation, it was still seen as impressive to be a writer or a doctor or a lawyer. Now, in society, everyone is a singer or a filmmaker or an actor. Art is coming back, as a social category. Being a doctor, it’s like, why?”

Ursula von Rydingsvard

“I tried the tree-trunk thing, and it was awful! First of all, you can never forget that it’s a tree trunk; and second of all, the tree trunk implies what it might want. I would go nuts; the branches wouldn’t work for me. These are neutral. They don’t ask anything of you. They’re like a blank piece of paper.”



by Guillaume Kientz

After the attacks, the dread; then, the rebuilding. With a lump in its throat and extra security, the Louvre goes back to work

The Lights of Home

by Genevieve Yue

For Chantal Akerman, home was where it hurts. But even when across the Atlantic, a part of her was always in Brussels. In her 1976 film of a dead-broke Manhattan, here and elsewhere come together