Curt Goldschmidt's fate is shared with many Jewish collectors and patrons. With this restitution, we honour Jewish collectors and remember victims of Nazi persecution.
Kamrooz Aram is everywhere this year, from Mumbai Art Week to the Whitney Biennial, and critic Aruna D'Souza is grateful. She pens a beautiful meditation on his work, reading his abstract paintings as not simply a denunciation of Western modernism nor a reassertion of Islamic visual motifs, but something else entirely - something gestural, exuberant, riotous, and incomparably his own.
Glass demands immediacy. Working at temperatures above 2,000°F leaves little room for overthinking, so the process becomes a kind of live dialogue between material, colour and chance. That same immediacy informs what I'm drawn to as a collector: works that carry a decisive gesture, a tactile presence, and the feeling that they could only exist in one form.
Author Malorie Blackman said the scheme seeks to highlight the imagination, commitment, craft and care taken to produce stories and books which can be enjoyed by everyone. She added: Any creative endeavour requires time, effort, a willingness to learn from mistakes and failure, and a determination to persevere lifelong, essential skills which cannot be learned and honed by allowing AI to do all of our creative thinking and production for us.
The inaugural edition of a new Art Basel fair opened in natural gas-rich Qatar in February with a novel artist-curated format consisting of 87 dealers presenting focused, biennial-style displays by individual artists. The ruling Al Thani family, worth $200bn, toured the fair before it opened and reserved numerous works, leaving dealers to spend the next few days wondering if and when those reserves would convert into sales.
What if I took my design lens and built out my essentials capsule for the Everlane customer? I felt like that would be a really amazing opportunity for me to introduce myself as a designer to an audience outside of EB Denim.
around half of Americans are conservative and they voted for Trump-so if you advertise here then you're reaching around half the US
There's a particular kind of panic that hits when you're facing a creative problem, and the well just feels... empty. Every idea seems stale. Every solution feels recycled. And the question creeps in: Have I finally used up all my good ideas? Maybe it's your third attempt at solving the same design problem, and every solution feels like a pale echo of something you've already tried. Or perhaps you've been churning out work for months, and suddenly the spark you used to rely on? Gone.
On Franklin Street in Brooklyn's Greenpoint neighborhood, one non-commercial gallery fosters 'a small, stubbornly human space for friction.' Friction—the ubiquitous buzzword that captures the simultaneous delight and discomfort of doing things the slow way—is at the heart of artists Pap Souleye Fall and Char Jeré's current show at Subtitled NYC. It also reflects the overall spirit of this little exhibition space and of a burgeoning movement to reject our culture of optimization in favor of a bumpier, more intimate, less alienating experience.
The terms are often conflated to portray an air of desirability and a limited opportunity. Rarity generally refers to the unusualness of an object—something that is infrequently encountered or 'rare to market.' With modern works from the past century, rarity can stem from limited original production, or the fact that many examples are held in museum or institutional collections, reducing their availability in the marketplace.
A few years ago, I put together what I felt was a truly innovative concept, which I presented in a conference poster at an international meeting in my field. After the presentation, I spoke to another early-career scientist about my work and how it might apply to their findings. Two years later, they scooped me by publishing a preprint paper that presented my idea, with many of the same verbal formulations and an identical flow of ideas, without any acknowledgement or attribution to my work.
When Thomas Jefferson wrote about the "inalienable" rights of man in the US Declaration of Independence 250 years ago, it's possible he lifted the term from the French. And long before it was ever used as an adjective to describe human rights, it defined royal property. To this day, "inalienability" remains a cornerstone of public collections in France-and many other countries-impacting museums and their ability to deaccession, including for purposes of restitution.
As if demolishing the East Wing, gutting arts agencies, and slapping his name and face on several federal buildings weren't enough, the US president now wants to do away with a DC building known as the "Sistine Chapel of New Deal art." This week, we reported on a burgeoning campaign to save the Wilbur J. Cohen Federal Building, which houses murals by Ben Shahn, Philip Guston, Seymour Fogel, and other major American artists. We will continue to follow this story.
The traditional museum experience, pausing in front of an object, and absorbing its history visually or by reading its description, has long shaped how collectors and others relate to cultural treasures. Yet, over the last few decades, digital technology has quietly rewritten many of those rules, changing not only how collections are exhibited but also how they are documented, preserved, and even inherited.
Recently, AI decided that a painting long thought to be a copy of Caravaggio's The Lute Player is actually by the master, while another version of the same subject, previously thought to be authentic, is not. Both conclusions were disputed by the former Metropolitan Museum of Art curator Keith Christiansen. A similar debate erupted in March 2025 when AI declared that portions of The Bath of Diana, also long believed to be a copy, could have been painted by Peter Paul Rubens.