Richard Serra was an American sculpturer best known for his unconventional works known for taking up space, its interactive elements and dominance in presence. In particular his weathered steel sculptural pieces known for creating experiences above visual aesthetic alone. There’s no denying that the Master of Time instillation at Guggenheim Museum, Bilbao turned heads. Serra became noticed as an emerging artist in the 1960’s shaping conceptual and unconventional works and forms of challenging boundaries within the art world. Alongside ways of negotiating space. Recently seeing his work at the Guggenheim reinforced the true emotions that are found in fragments online, but seeing the work in person is a complete different experience. I was initially drawn to the brutalist architecture and the contrast in its rustic tone. As I began to interact with the sculptures walk through, in and around them, I saw many layers Serra was aiming to communicate. I found myself intrigued by the irony of the structure of these sculptures and how it stands with such dominance and assertiveness however others perform with more fluidity in the stance curving and almost touching another to create tension but also a sense of control. It creates an interesting conscious statement of taking up space but also allowing movement and perception for the viewer, and a sense of sensitivity in how the sculpture conforms to materiality, conventionality and surrounding space. Encountering this exhibition I was met with purposeful narrow, enclosed spaces, elongated structures and disruption's in composition. The sense of unpredictability that unfolds as the bends and corners of the steel sculptures move close to meet, but restrict to not quite touch creates that form of manipulating sculpture and found materials as an artist and relaying that through the many complex layers it shares with an audience. A negotiated relationship with the artist and their work, that I find to be necessary in the progression of contemporary art today, leaving an imprint that resonates to many.

The brutalist qualities in this building is really an aspect that I find creates a prominence in itself, within the exhibitions and cultural positioning. Not only through the sense of rebellion or somewhat contrast to neutrality, but for the existing knowledge of negotiating and working with the space you are given. Above the aesthetic surface level visual of this, there are many contextual layers and forms of relation that the space creates with the work inside. I am a big fan of this sense of ‘rebellion’. I say that ironically because the idea itself of this being considered by many as rebellious simply because of it’s unconventional form shows the issue we have today as creatives that are selecting comfortability and security over experimentation.

I am a fan of this experimentation as I see the site you work in as a curator, an architect, designer, or artist plays a huge role in how the work is interpreted. And maybe this is a controversial opinion or one many would shy away from even involving themselves in, but I do see many of the white cube, minimalist, traditional exhibition spaces to be a huge loss of potential. Definitely not all of them as some are deliberately appropriate to the work shown. But I find most have lost that necessary expansion in interpretation. The work shown is only linear through the process of how it communicates with the space around it, becoming something greater and more contextualised.

Ironically, this form of comfortability, the sense of safety created through simple, minimalistic approaches and designs is not truly comfortable. Not for the artist, the curator, or their shared vision. This is because remaining within this sense of safety can limit the potential growth, preventing contrasting perspectives, deeper discussions, and contextual critiques from emerging to the extent that they should. In this sense, the white cube can become a loss of potential. A predictable framework that prioritises control over experimentation.

Art should not exist within a space of creative convenience it should challenge its surroundings, question expectations, and create opportunities for new interpretations. This does not mean abandoning ethics or accessibility, but rather embracing environments that allow greater dialogue between artwork, architecture, and context.

And Limbo Museum demonstrates this through the space being an active participant.

A work I was specifically drawn to within this space was ‘On the Other Side of Languish’, by artist Reginald Sylvester II curated by Diallo Simon-Ponte. The work situates itself with the space given, of harsh brick walls, work positioned deliberately not central to the wall, if anything closer the ground, in line with the open windows. And not windows as in the modern traditional glass windows we see today, A physical open space in the wall. Where you look through and see a view of Ghana. The interior surround rubble, damp, pigmentation on the walls and ceilings, there’s no denying this to be an abandoned building. It follows traces of history, over what we are familiar with seeing, being isolated forms of display on a diluted backdrop. As a viewer, I find Reginald Sylvester II’s exhibition space to hold many depictions of imperfection, of comfort in the uncertainty, of how art shifts perspective in urban spaces, and a contrast to be dissected further. Which is interesting when paired with the artists concept. Sylvester shared his ongoing exploration of faith, memory, and transformation. His time in Accra allowed the work to evolve in scale and texture, grounding his approach to steel, rubber, and paint in the city’s layered histories and everyday rhythms. Which shares similarities to this rawness and sense of vulnerability. Within the space and the artist. It captures many aspects Sylvester was aiming to depict but also raises questions that feel most necessary. Questions of how does this openness share responsibility with the architecture it’s set in. And the idea of transformation- positioned in a space that reflects ongoing forms and found space.
There are contextual layers to this space, showing perception to challenge any form of simplicity found in minimal exhibitions.

Another work by Reginald Sylvester II called ‘Jacob’s Dream, 2025’ presents a welded galvanized steel. Some hanging some stood with further dominance. But the way this converses with the architecture is a negotiation of space that challenges traditional boundaries of exhibition making, and of physical response to unfinished structures, and brutalism. Again working with the space you are given, over working against it. The idea of situating the steel that is so dominant and certain in its material against this unpredictable, abandoned brutalist scale creates a really interesting relation to one another. And allows you to be conscious of that and revisit the artists work in through that perspective. There’s a warmth and somewhat comfort I find through the open space. Yes the warm tones of the building, but deeper more natural elements. Pigmentation of damp on the walls, the texture of the wooden boards and the uneven surface of the ground, Aswell as overspilling of greenery creating a definite chaos but a chaos that is comforting and realistic in its form. This paired with ‘Jacob’s Dream, 2025’ shifts further focus on the dominance of the work, the structure of how it is positioned against that, the Definity in it’s balance, material and concept. You then revisit this space to be a lot more uncertain and familiar than the steel working with or against it. Which is interesting how the space can encourage that you find aspects of interpretation you didn’t find to be as apparent then if you were to view it on its own. That consideration can direct you on a multitude of layers and paths to align with as a viewer and an artist. I urge you to question if this was situated against a neutral more simplistic form would this provide similar questions, or the challenge of contrast.

I could even go so far as to say that the contrast between the work and the space can be so rich in its contribution, but because it creates an interesting tension, the work may even reject the space. That in itself raises questions of why it is so wrong for a work to challenge convention in such a way.

A bright yellow work can exist against a bright yellow wall. Some may argue that the two clash, creating distraction, and that the work blends into the wall too much. However, another viewer may resonate with that sense of chaos and see how it encourages reflection.

Aesthetically pleasing visuals are not necessarily a relevant factor in the role of working with space. The importance lies in the dialogue created between the work and its environment, whether that relationship is harmonious, conflicting, or intentionally disruptive.

The exposed layout and unconventionality creates a statement. It welcomes questions, debates and conversations. Good or bad. However outlook you wish it is one that is complex, and follows many other contrasting opinions. And works that create such a discussion are ones that I find to be successful. Ones that arguably have achieved the layer within perception. Not the one layer, the one of many.

I’m particularly interested in the front cover design where Woodman’s writing is printed around the image. It feels significant because it echoes a compositional strategy that already exists within her own material, especially in her notebook style pages, where text overlaps with imagery.

What stands out, though, is that this version of the layering is no longer part of her direct working process. It is an editorial contribution of a visual language Woodman was already using. Manipulated in a way that continues this visual narrative and recognisable language. The decision to continue that representation onto the cover feels intentional in how it frames her practice before the book is even opened. I keep thinking about how different the experience of this book would be if it’s cover followed a more minimal approach. If the image stood alone against a plain white or beige background, with centred text and no layering around it.

In that version, the presentation would feel more detached. The connection between Woodman’s own visual language and the framing of the publication could be perceived almost contradictory. It is interesting the use of smaller elements that just ‘make sense’ when depicting an artists style of work. Some other examples of this include Jean-Michel Basquiat: Boom for Real (Barbican exhibition catalogue, 2017). It refuses archival neutrality. Actively mirroring his practice even shown through finer details of bold vibrant text that depict similar colours within his work. The contrast of saturated yellows, with more muted blues and greys was a recurring theme within his body of works. Or the overlapping of text which arguably could be seen as a deliberate editorial decision to reflect Basquiat’s use of layering and chaos within his marks. A simple yet effective design choice shifts the purpose of reproducing, archiving, or editing an artist’s work away from purely functional documentation towards a process that actively mirrors the artist’s own visual language. Creating this continuity between the artist’s practice and the publisher’s design approach. Many would argue that simply documenting content only scratches the surface; however, using design to reflect and represent the contextual layers within that content shifts the purpose of the work beyond documentation. Which is an aspect of archival research and documentation that feels necessary when sharing this appreciation for an artists legacy.

The cover of Beauty: Andy Warhol (Penguin Archive) initially appears minimal, relying primarily on typographic design over imagery.

Rather than explicitly reproducing his imagery, the design operates through absence and suggestion. The existing focus around text and controlled composition reflects where meaning is constructed through framing and context rather than expressive detail and maximalism. It can also provoke reflection and discussion to the substantial imprint his work has where more toned down design choices reflect his work better than chaotic compositions.

With the content of this archive sharing a focus on Warhol’s romantic relationships and his thoughts on interior design, love, sex, beauty, work, and space offer an intimate glimpse into the mind of one of the most iconic figures in twentieth-century culture.

The colour choice on the cover reflects the richness and complexity of these themes, using a bold tonal shift to immediately capture attention. As I keep mentioning, the smaller contributions in selection and editorial direction plays a huge part in how the work is perceived, and how it engages an audience. An example being the difference between a bright, saturated red compared with this deeper, more muted red that alters the emotional reading of the book, moving it away from pure vibrancy toward something more restrained and ambiguous. This shift introduces a sense of mystery suggesting depth beneath the surface of Warhol’s public persona.

Some may argue a written analysis or archival reconstruction alone shouldn’t continue the artist’s style as it is a separate subject. However when working with archival materials that are so deeply personal many find this connection is what achieves a personality and authentic feel that many viewers search for. Editorial design can either preserve or flatten an artist’s language. Whether you are a publicist, writer, archivist, journalist, curator, or general editor, seeking precision in your work requires a strong commitment to representing the artist as truthfully as possible- to who they are, what they represent, and their visual language. “The way images are reproduced inevitably becomes part of their interpretation.” - Anne Hollander

What exists now in ‘Francesca Woodman The Artists Books’ does something different. The use of colour, placement, and the surrounding text creates a visual and consistent flow with the kind of layering already present in her work. It doesn’t just present her work it echoes it, making each and every page authentic.

The colour choice is bold, but personal. With a dusty rose that is almost unavoidable. Her handwriting in the chosen text evokes emotion right away. It is unapologetic in its disruption to the composition and the imagery. It presents itself with character over minimalistic design… an editorial choice that I find hugely successful. It is easy to minimise a subject to fit a ‘clean’ and ‘safe’ aesthetic but when shifting perspective and making room for the layers in perception above this surface level aesthetic, creates a true impact. Not only one that sits with you but one that holds its individuality.

Certain pages are included because they are structurally or conceptually significant with compositions that overlap and interrupt simplistic balanced compositions working as a gentle reminder to Woodman’s relationship to composition and the intricate details that extend beyond traditional work and narrative. I mention this as an important factor as I appreciate the balance of importance between what areas an editor or curator selects when portraying such an influential artist and how that contributes to the success of an archive. It is an independent awareness to appreciate a body of work alone. But the role someone takes on when continuing that production and display on that work and the selection of it is hugely significant. It raises necessary questions: why does this front cover work so well, or what could be changed? Does the colour scheme represent Woodman best? What might be a missed opportunity? Leaving many with contrasting views. Some might see a sense of lost potential in what could have been included, while others may read the work as more authentic to Woodman’s practice, and strong in how it represents her material. However some may argue, a diverse range of discussion alone does more than a narrowed perspective found from a comfortability, and minimalistic direction. There’s often debate around editing or framing an artist’s work in reproduction, especially when selection and presentation cross a line of alteration.

But in this case, the use of Woodman’s own material, real fragments from her notebooks and journal-like pages also carries a certain weight that people tend to respect. It’s less about altering anything, and more about how existing material is handled, placed, and brought into reflection without losing its purpose.

The balance between creative direction and selection, and the judgement involved in knowing what to foreground without overworking or over interpreting the material, becomes part of how the archive is experienced.

In the close of this article I leave a question I urge you all to reflect on… To what extent should archival reproductions simply document an artist’s work, rather than actively challenge and extend it through design?

And do you find this to be a positive or unnecessary contribution?

Tadashi Kawamata negotiates space in the process of his making. There is an intensity in every sentiment that makes his work so distinct, however it can also leave some hesitant. His work provokes many questions about its purpose, primarily due to its untraditional nature and form of deliberate chaos. One of his most recognisable works, being his sculptural “nests”, focus within unstable, temporary structures that suggest unnatural relationships within contemporary architectural space. A contrast between structure and unpredictability. This is an aspect within the art industry that, once considered, becomes particularly interesting in its existing knowledge. It is that we, as humans, tend to find outrage and controversy in works such as those by Tadashi Kawamata that exist within this unpredictable, chaotic nature, yet we are naturally drawn to that same unpredictability. This, in many ways, ironically questions the outrage itself. You have works by Eva Hesse that are heavily critiqued for this notion of radical self-expression however, when reflected upon, you begin to question what led to that public curiosity. Does this recognition of unpredictability suggest that the work has already achieved its purpose? Good or bad, it is being viewed and reflected upon. And is this potentially more impactful than traditional work that relies on stability?.

“I try to create moments that disturb the landscape or cityscape,” he says in a design anthology interview. There is no denying Kawamata achieves a sense of freedom that he also aims for others to encounter when viewing the work, as much as he does in the process of designing it. His relationship with nature is an ongoing journey with many complexities that lie beneath. However, one aspect of this relation that Kawamata never fails to acknowledge is the shift in perspective once the two combine.

This raises reflections on when that perspective shifts from the objective view of nature itself, separated from the expressive practice of art installation, and what allows nature to now be perceived within that realm of visual art—and, to many, whether that is deserving. This is a common debate within contemporary art today, primarily within conceptual and sculptural works. It is the idea of taking something so familiar and solid in its context and knowing how to manipulate, shape, and transform it within a body of work.

Many people outside of this perspective view Kawamata’s work as chairs stacked upon each other, in preference over a site-specific installation, creating an illusion and metaphorical statement of chaotic natural forms, such as an ocean wave crashing into a balanced and ordered architectural space. This contrast welcomes curiosity to the scene and plays on perspective in a clever yet refreshing way. Others do applaud Kawamata’s boldness in this manipulation and the role he plays within the refining of the work.

A simple yet impactful quote by Kawamata states, “I construct, I deconstruct, I construct, I deconstruct, I construct...” Sharing further insight into the true physicality of his making and the process of engaging with recycled materials, bringing a new, contextualised perspective beyond the surface-level view and familiarity that surrounds us. It is arguably one of the most controversial—or to some, successful—ways of storytelling and creating within conceptual work. And one that I don’t doubt will continue to command attention in it’s audience perception.

In this article, I want to explore how intimacy and desire transfer in Tracey Emin’s work, following a fragility between the two themes and the many contextual layers that follow. Emin is known for her deeply intimate and personal, conceptual works that often evoke emotions of vulnerability, longing, exposure and deep desire. Which often reflects every aspect of her relationship to her work and process, and her willingness to share such raw and honest materials. She is often praised for this authenticity, but her unapologetic nature of storytelling, and creating welcomes much controversy to the scene. An exhibition in particular that sparked much debate and media reception was Tracey Emin (1998). My Bed. ‘My Bed’ was a sculptural conceptual instillation depicting Emin’s deeply personal and traumatic life experiences. This rawness and shock factor left many labelling it as ‘provocative’ Many critics even dismissed the work as ‘not art’ which is a common perception understood to stem from its conceptualised notion. The broader dynamics within the instillation and its experimental, unconventional approach leaves many questioning its purpose in the art world. This provokes open discission to the role intimate works such as ‘My Bed’ has in contemporary art today. And why it follows such contrasting views within audience perception.

Alongside her sculptural works Emin is also well known for her figurative abstract paintings while we encounter fluid, gestural and at times emotional marks. It is no secret that desire is a recurring theme in her works, with a sensitivity and unpredictability that represents this in a more unconventional form. Many find this refreshing to see as it expands beyond the expected and surface level realms of romance and sexuality. Desire and tenderness is communicated by Emin through many different aspects some including recognition, the desire not to just be loved but seen and understood, emotional exposure, nostalgia, self reflection, and connection beyond romance. This allows reflection on what desire truly is, and the conceptual, psychological desire that is often overlooked or replaced with conventional version.

‘My Bed’ shares insight into this subjective take, as desire is shown as emotional aftermath. We see it as remains. Wrinkled sheets, stained fabrics, scattered objects and explicit materials. A form of desire that is reflecting on what was once felt, achieved and found.

As the use of AI in creative practice continues to develop, it raises necessary questions about its purpose, potential, and overall impact within the arts. Following the knowledge of the creative industry before this development came to what it is today, it allows reflection and open discussion to its functionality. And one I aim to discuss in this essay. The first insight into AI first entered the art world in the 1960s and 70s, with early experiments in computer generated graphics and algorithmic compositions. However at that time, its use was far less progressive than today, serving as a tool for assistance rather than an accessible option or even replacement.

The 20th century, particularly the 2010s, saw AI progress in its ability to mimic real world data, however, it was still not widely accessible to the general public and remained mostly confined to creative spaces and production. By 2020, mainstream AI tools became widely available and continue to expand to what we have today. Many argue, that AI has become too common, overtaking parts of the creative industry and even replacing jobs. As it becomes more powerful, we seem to rely on AI more than human talent and knowledge, highlighting the dominance it can override in many industries. This is a ongoing development that can be believed by many as concerning when reflected upon.

Many people share contrasting views on this insight with some praising the development of artificial intelligence and its accessibility.

In a Pro Edu article they argue the positive impacts of AI stating,

‘Artificial intelligence is reshaping the landscape of visual arts, opening up new avenues for creativity and accessibility. AI technologies are enhancing artistic expression across various mediums, from painting and sculpture to digital design and multimedia installations. We're seeing AI enable new forms of interactive and generative art. As the technology advances, the boundaries between human and machine creativity continue to blur in exciting ways’. (Martin, 2024)

However others argue art has always been accessible with natural elements feeding inspiration such as public landscapes, urban nature, and texture. Aswell as the traditional forms of existing materials that we are surrounded with proposing the argument art is always accessible. Humans were making art on cave walls long before formal institutions existed, with artists today continuing this contribution such as, Nils-Udo environmental artist that creates instillations from natural environments, Anselm Kiefer using natural materials to paint with and create detailed imprints, and El Anatsui using scraps of metal to inform his practice.

As many have shared strong opinions against this way of creating and how it removes the sole purpose of art practice, and others champion this development, others also stay neutral. Following this neutrality many believe it can be beneficial in fast pace reliable environmentswhere the answer is a click away, but with a balance of real life artist representation and opportunity's for emerging creatives. Aswell as the obvious uncertainty to how reliable it truly is.

In the recent years AI has been described by many to be taking charge with news articles having been found using AI to generate simple text and caught accidentally leaving an AI source, chatgpt format representing a false narrative of the company's values and authenticity. But more importantly how we use AI in replacement for our own critical thinking and in this case, for a vital role in the job they are being paid for. Another example being AI replacing human models, including the Vogue August 2025 issue. Many viewers responding in outrage stating, ‘Great. The new beauty standard will be, literally, unobtainable because it's not real’. (Spencer-Elliott, 2025) - Sharing the harmful impact it has on unrealistic beauty standards.

Ultimately, There’s no doubt that it’s unpredictability is a thrill seeking factor to some, but holds a harsher reality and scary truth of what this means for the art world and future opportunities being taken from creative professions and qualified individuals.

The ethics of life drawing remain one of the most quietly debated areas within contemporary art today, and has been an ongoing debate for years. As a creative professional in the industry, and having been denied life drawing practice in my Fine Art BA Hons degree due to it not being ‘ethical’. I found that to be a heavy and weighted statement. And something to spark my curiosity to why it is so taboo. At the time, I couldn’t quite comprehend studying at one of the best art universities in the country, with accomplished lecturers, yet being denied access to an art practice so beneficial to every artist’s development. Having gained prior experience in this practice during my diploma before progressing into further study, discovering it was no longer an option left me somewhat taken aback.

Life drawing teaches many skills for developing artists and precision with drawing the human body. However, I’m aware these are all apparent so I am going to touch on the more obvious ‘issue’ or controversy that lies within this practice. Nudity. The first known depiction of the naked body in art was ‘Venus of Willendorf’ a small statuette created between 28,000 and 25,000 BC. And with the first documentation to life drawing from prehistoric cave art, with examples from locations of Leang Karampuang in South Sulawesi, Indonesia, dating back over 51,000 years. Art nudity was most common in its representation in Ancient Greece and the Renaissance. Seen to depict perfectionism and beauty. However the public response has always been complex with many controversies that came arise. As the 19th and 20th century progressed, life drawing was then depicted with more focus on realism than traditional style and classical figures. Artistic movements such as realism and impressionism held a huge role in this progression and cultural debate. Some believe there should be an acknowledgment to a contrast and difference in artistic expression and censorship and how to navigate that. Others see it to hold great value and importance in art history and the ongoing progression of art today.

Nudity when paired with the male gaze from the 19th century life drawings presented a toxic perspective on women and how they were portrayed as objects to male desire. This influences many feminist artists or critics today, to go against this representation and turn it into a positive with an empowering response and artistic expression. In a way taking back control of toxic societal views on women and the female body. Therefore this presents the argument of life drawing being necessary today to develop this ongoing progression and traditional practice.

This sense of discomfort and awkwardness can be understood as stemming from a long standing cultural norm to sexualize the practice, suggesting that many viewers have been socially conditioned to interpret representations of the body through a narrow lens rather than appreciating life drawing as a historically significant artistic practice. Unravelling a deeper contextual layer to why many respond to this practice with such outrage.

On March 22, 1969, Harald Szeemann was about to transform the creative industry. He was known not only for bringing experimentation to the forefront of his curating, but for introducing conceptual and unconventional forms of installation that map the progressive nature of contemporary art today.

The exhibit explored the existing idea and process in prioritisation over a finished piece. The piece invited viewers to engage in the work and materials used that often required deep reflection, showcasing Conceptual, Postminimalist, and Land Art. At the time, this was often overlooked and considered a controversial art style. With many people being less familiar with this unapologetic nature and way of creating, they almost always labelled it as a joke to what we call art, and ‘intellectual nonsense’. This reflects how familiarity shapes the way we connect with and interpret a work, as well as how the reactions of others can influence our own perceptions. This can arguably be a harmful factor in audience interpretation, as it limits independent engagement. It raises questions about why works rooted in unfamiliar or unconventional ideas are often dismissed on that basis alone. A common pattern in how audiences respond to conceptual art is that when something appears out of place or difficult to understand, rather than asking why it exists in that form, they dismiss it immediately.

ARCHIVAL IMAGES

The building and exhibition space became hugely influential to the work and in many ways incorporated into it. Works were placed directly onto floors interacting with the architectural space, and artist Lawrence Weiner removing a section of wall board, directly exposing architectural structure. This was one of the main contributions to the controversy of this piece and following public scrutiny as it was highly understood to be breaking museum etiquette. Curator Harald Szeemann allowed artists to drill, cut, and attach elements directly onto the building which was strongly advised not to do. Many of these artists believed art should not be limited to objects on display but more actions, situations, or ideas. They also had their own opinions on breaking the rules and expectations given by the museum, due to the belief of control museums had on artists and limitation of exploration. But going against this, sparked outrage in the public perception with local press mocking the exhibition with headlines of ‘‘Is Art Finally Dead’ and ’Sabotage in the Art Temple’. Even leading to protests where manure was dumped at the entrance of the Kunsthalle Bern at night, with a sign on it saying ‘mistification’. It goes on to describe this incident further in an ‘Afterall’ article ...

“A further incident occurred, when the satirical group Gag AG (Joke Inc.) dumped a heap of manure in front of the Kunsthalle Bern at night, with a sign on it saying ‘mistification’ (the German word ‘Mist’ meaning ‘manure’), and discussing it, in a press release, as a ‘mistmal’ (a word play on the German ‘Denkmal’ , or ‘monument’).10 Gag AG also demanded an invitation to take part in the exhibition. Reviews were then published celebrating the courage of the group and condemning the Kunsthalle’s exhibition in strong terms, asking why public funding was being spent on such ‘rubbish’. 11 These reviews also included reference to a statement written by Gag AG apologising to the women working in the Kunsthalle’s ticket office for exposing them to the stench, whilst complaining about the removal of the manure heap and promising to send the institution a kilogram of ‘art manure’. The group’s statement was published in a number of newspapers, including Emmenthaler Blatt, Der Untertoggenburger and Der Fürstenländer .12 In the midst of this coverage, Harald Szeemann spoke to the press, describing the ‘artists’ as mere protesters and saying he would consider their exhibition request when they started to make coherent work that wasn’t just destructive” (Afterall, 2026)

SOME OF THESE EXHIBITING ARTISTS INCLUDE

• CARL ANDRE

• JOSEPH BEUYS

• ALIGHIERO BOETTI

• ROBERT BARRY

• HANNE DARBOVEN

• EVA HESSE

• DOUGLAS HUEBLER

• HANS HAACKE

• YVES KLEIN

• JOSEPH KOSUTH

• SOL LEWITT

• RICHARD LONG

• MARIO MERZ

• ROBERT MORRIS

• BRUCE NAUMAN

• CLAES OLDENBURG

• RICHARD SERRA

• DENNIS OPPENHEIM

• LAWRENCE WEINER

• WALTER DE MARIA

• SARKIS

Here I want to investigate the role of minimalism and the existing narrative that plays into curatorial framing. As the rise of minimalism continues to expand, many cultural institutions and forms of expression in the creative industry are being incorporated into this theme and somewhat trend. Beige or white walls, neutral tones, simplistic and minimal spaces of interaction. Whether intended or not, it lies in a safety bubble when compared to experimental approaches within unconventional exhibition spaces, urban spaces, tonal contrasts, and working around the space you already have. I want to delve deeper into this acknowledgement and ask the question: is this playing it safe, or is it doing what many intend it to do-to avoid distractions, achieve a curatorial focus, or create a clearer definition of a sequence that is more easily understood. But is this really what we want?

Many argue that this simplistic approach isolates the work from its environment and, in many ways, can make it look out of place. But more importantly doesn’t contribute to the progressive nature and purpose of the contemporary art scene today. Some of the most successful artists and curators today work with the space they are given through a conscious acknowledgement of how it can be manipulated to connect with their audience. Therefore, conforming to minimalistic spaces often featuring neutrality, little to no interactive elements, and few forms of debate or questions raised can be seen by many as a waste of an opportunity to experiment with this notion and engage with the many challenges and discussions that feel most necessary in the progression of curating.

There is no lie here that this is a subjective matter, based on individual interests in minimalism vs maximalism. It also reflects the subjective purpose of art and what deems it successful. Many believe that, to be successful in this industry, a sense of experimentation should be present whether that is through conceptual work, the process of creating, experimenting with mediums, the space around the work, how it interacts with an audience, or the Multi-layered meanings it may trigger.

An individual’s interest in minimalism in art today, and why it feels so necessary, also plays a role. Challenging discussions can be difficult, yet spaces that evoke these discussions feel necessary now more than ever.

Below I have included conceptual instillations and works that go against conventional norms and expectations in exhibition spaces, and the rise of minimalism. As a viewer, I invite you to engage with both approaches, consider where your curiosity is drawn, and reflect on why that might be.

Gustav Klimt ‘THE KISS’ (1907-1908)

The romanticism movement began in Europe at the end of the 18th century and peaked between 1800 and 1850. Long before Gustav Klimt introduced his lovers in gold, romance in art was already a familiar language. Traditional painters had learned how to make desire visible. Soft hands that meet in a focal point, bodies curved toward one another, narratives unfolding in gardens, bedrooms, and mythological worlds. It was apparent love was painted as movement and story. Something that happened between people, in space and in time. The viewer was invited to witness this moment. Bringing an intimacy and sense of vulnerability that at the time challenged perspective, and audience interpretation. By the progression of the twentieth century, however, romance was no longer only about what lovers did and how they were represented. It began to shift towards what love felt like. In that transition, Klimt’s ‘The Kiss’ did not simply continue the tradition, but transformed it.

Circling back to the artwork itself, I want to critique areas that I find worked from an outside perspective as the viewer, and why this created such tension and open discourse within audience interpretation.

We see the man’s face to disappear into the woman’s hair, while hers tilts upward with closed eyes, caught between surrender and stillness. it’s important to acknowledge this visual and what this may quietly suggest. By interfering with the identity and emotion, he creates space rather than fixed meaning. The gesture can be read as tender devotion, protection, desire, or even possession. This allows each viewer to bring their own experiences of love, vulnerability, and power into the scene. There are many contrasts and complexities within this piece that creates many layered experiences and viewpoints.

Klimt’s unapologetic nature and approach created a form of visual storytelling that felt refreshing for its time. ‘The Kiss’ invites many feelings and personal encounters to the forefront. By doing so, the work opens romance to interpretation, allowing the tradition to progress through emotional freedom rather than fixed narrative.

His approach opened the door for other artists to rethink romance in a more open understanding. With other artists such as Egon Schiele, Oskar Kokoschka and Marc Chagall, following similar themes and narratives.

Eline Martherus is an Amsterdam-based contemporary painter and visual artist incorporating fluidity, movement, and earthy tones that reflect on the theme of nature in her paintings. Aswell as natural areas she also follows a focal point in rhythm and movement through gestural bold marks, and chaotic yet suspended compositions. This allows her to create tension within the perception of the work and the role it plays with her audience. Martherus became well known for her distinctive palette of rich blues, and muted greens, Which led to further recognition of her stylistic approach and has contributed to her ongoing success. Since, she has been featured in several solo and group exhibitions, including…

I NEVER PROMISED YOU A ROSE GARDEN | Solo Show — HAMA Gallery

Grimburgwal Gallery Solo (2020)

Kinship Studio Solo — Kinship Studio, Bali, Indonesia (May 2019)

KUNSTRAI | Group Show — HAMA Gallery, Amsterdam (April 2023)

Her background in textile production informs the way she treats the canvas not as a flat surface, but as something to be layered, and materially responsive. This sensibility reveals a deeper understanding of surface and structure. Through this material awareness this also provides further insight into the artists relationship with their practice, and her ability to manipulate tone, challenge and incorporate complex, but necessary themes. I see this as hugely important within the creative industry, as it allows artists to push conventional boundaries, gain further control over narrative and artistic direction, and contribute to the ongoing progression of abstract and conceptual practice in the contemporary art scene. Her role within the process of making from concept to execution, offers a refreshing perspective. Rather than creating purely for aesthetic or distancing herself from the work, Martherus builds an ongoing relationship with each piece. She works with the process as it unfolds, allowing the work itself to inform her direction.

Martherus demonstrates that abstraction can hold depth when it is rooted in awareness and intentional process. Her work challenges the idea that abstract painting exists only for aesthetic pleasure, instead showing how rhythm, and structure can carry conceptual weight. Her next steps will be worth watching as her practice continues to evolve.

In a recent Cosmopolitan interview, actress Sydney Sweeney was asked about her stance on politics and cultural debates circulating online.

In response, she stated… ‘I’m not a political person. I’m in the arts. I’m not here to speak on politics,’ Explaining that she became an actor because she wants to tell stories, not engage in political discourse.

On the surface, her statement might seem straightforward.

However this sparked many debates and questions of can art truly be anything but political? Some argue that art can and should exist separate from politics, a space where creativity is valued for its aesthetic or emotional impact rather than its social commentary. However others find art directly links to social and political matters. And art being an expression or form of response to that. From this perspective, even a work intended as purely personal or entertaining can carry political weight, influencing audiences. Understanding this to be an unconscious direct link or representation of political matters. For another perspective on whether art can be ‘apolitical,’ consider Tracey Emin, one of the most talked about contemporary british artists. Emin often emphasises that her work comes from intensely personal experiences rather than a deliberate political objective, yet in interviews she acknowledges that her art inevitably resonates within broader social and cultural contexts. Critics have noted that themes in her work including class, sexuality, vulnerability, and power are inseparable from societal structures and norms, even if Emin herself resists labelling her practice as explicitly political. Many recognise the widely known argument that this is largely a myth. Even when an artist claims their work is ‘just art’ or ‘not political’ every creative decision is shaped by social, cultural, and historical contexts. Choices about what stories to tell, which characters to centre, and which perspectives to leave out all reflect underlying assumptions about the world we live in. In this sense, claiming neutrality does not make art apolitical, it simply hides the ways in which art participates in existing power structures.

Circling back to Sydney Sweeney, her statement in Cosmopolitan illustrates the belief that creative work can exist outside of political context. However, as the discussion of the myth of neutrality shows, this claim doesn’t exempt her work from interpretation or impact. Whether she intends it or not, the roles she plays, the projects she chooses, and the ongoing discussions surrounding her all carry social and cultural weight.

Presenting the argument of art is political whether it’s intended to be or not. However that, just like many aspects within the art world, is left to personal perspective.

Abstraction has long been about making a statement. Now, something gentler is emerging. Soft abstraction moves quietly, favouring touch, texture, and intimacy over spectacle.

The rise of soft abstraction mirrors what’s happening in interiors. Minimalist, pared-down spaces with tactile surfaces and muted tones have become desirable, and abstract art is following this path. This is great news for contemporary art. Abstraction, conceptual practices, and other unconventional forms have always sparked debate—and soft abstraction is no different. These works challenge expectations, provoke conversation, and push institutions and audiences to reconsider what art can be. That dialogue is essential to the ongoing progression and visibility of contemporary practices.

Specific emerging & further recognised artists that are being highly appreciated for this style of work are Nuria Maria, Bosco Sodi, Chantal Khoury, Kathy Liu, Karin Davie.

Roxana Marcoci curator of many successful exhibitions including…

‘The Original Copy: Photography of Sculpture, 1839 to Today’

‘TARYN SIMON LIVING MAN DECLARED DEAD AND OTHER CHAPTERS I-XVIII’

‘Wolfgang Tillmans: To look without fear‘

Marcoci follows themes of negotiation between expansive negative space, and the work itself. This focus on spatial tension is one that explores minimalism, sequence & grid-based displays, and disruption of display conventions. Marcoci treats the exhibition space itself as a typological tool. Works are grouped, isolated, or sequenced not to fix meaning, but to expose how meaning shifts according to scale and rhythm. Typology becomes less about classification and more about perception — a system that foregrounds subjectivity.

Subjectivity is an area within contemporary art that is continually reflected upon, challenged, and supported in many ways. This ongoing discussion proposes and stimulates the production of unconventional and often conceptual works that engage directly with subjectivity, particularly through the ways meaning is negotiated within specific works shown in the exhibition space and forms of curatorial framing.

But why does this work?

Marcoci’s approach works because it moves beyond traditional modes of display. Positioning subjectivity as a productive force rather than a problem. In doing so, it reflects and advances the evolving values of the contemporary creative industry, encouraging experimentation over what is deemed ‘safe’.

What we can learn from Marcoci’s curatorial approach is the importance of restraint and intentionality. Her exhibitions demonstrate that curating is not simply about selecting works, but about constructing the conditions through which works are experienced. By allowing space and sequence to function as curatorial tools.

Marcoci shows how exhibitions can hold complexity without challenging it — making room for subjectivity, and sustained looking.

Wolfgang Tillmans : ‘To look without fear’