Penelope Grist charts an immersive path through Stuart Spence’s photography.
European painters always enjoyed a good deal of latitude in the representation of angels, those asexual, bodiless, celestial regiments of God, so long as they were young and beautiful.
Joanna Gilmour brings a mindful Douglas Mawson’s perspective to bear on the concept of isolation.
Books seldom make me angry but this one did. At first, I was powerfully struck by the uncanny parallels that existed between the Mellons of Pittsburgh and the Thyssens of the Ruhr through the same period, essentially the last quarter of the nineteenth century.