Bring on the Vegas glitz! How Roma families are defying their persecutors with architectural bling | Architecture

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In the village of Hășdat in the heart of rural Romania, geese roam the dusty streets, bonfires burn in back gardens, and the houses are not quite what you would expect. Not at all. One sports a pair of golden Versace Medusa heads and Rolex crown emblems on its tall metal gates, flanked by marble pillars topped with trios of cherubs. They mark the entrance to a compound where a creamy stuccoed pile groans with balconies and plaster mouldings, its roof dripping with ornamental guttering. A group of women stand around a table in its courtyard, plucking feathers from freshly slaughtered chickens behind a fence of gilded scrollwork.

Across the street, the neighbours have gone even further. A shoal of metal fish surmount the four-tiered pagoda roof of this five-storey mansion, where gold-painted columns glitter on either side of bulging mirror-glass doors. A bright blue Ford Mustang is parked in the forecourt next to an Audi and the discarded box for a widescreen TV. Two girls in matching velour tracksuits and gold jewellery race in circles on their scooters.

Welcome to the palaces of the Roma kings: exuberant monuments of wealth, pride and prestige, and defiant expressions of cultural identity in a country that has turned its back on the community for so long. Across Romania, similar outcrops of ostentatious mansions have sprouted in the most unlikely places over the last two decades, competing for attention with ever more elaborate rooftops, taller turrets, bigger porches and shinier fixtures. They revel in exuberant mashups of architectural motifs, sampling from Ottoman, Byzantine and neoclassical traditions, with a hefty dollop of Las Vegas glitz. And it’s fair to say that most people in Romania don’t see them as a particularly welcome addition to the landscape.

Inspired by the back of a $50 bill … a private residence with a gold-leaf dome based on the Capitol building. Photograph: Laurian Ghinitoiu

“We are taught to hate anything that doesn’t follow the rules,” says Laurian Ghinițoiu, a Romanian photographer who has been documenting these palaces in far-flung corners of the country for five years. “Our society is completely racist towards the Roma community, so these buildings are often dismissed as kitsch and bad taste. But nowhere else in recent years can you find a style of architecture so closely associated with an ethnic group, which embodies their desire to be visible and get back their self-esteem.”

Ghinițoiu’s arresting photographs are currently on show at the Timișoara architecture biennale, curated this year by Oana Stănescu around the theme of “covers”, taking in a broad spectrum of architectural copying, sampling and remixing, and held in the city’s atmospheric crumbling former garrison, set to become the Museum of the Revolution, which feels like a fitting place to display these acts of architectural rebellion. Hung in traditional picture frames gathered from flea markets, Ghinițoiu’s images paint a loving portrait of a community that isn’t ashamed to have fun with its decor.

Ceiling decor … detail of a residence in the village of Buzescu. Photograph: Oliver Wainwright

There are frenzied geometric-tiled facades echoing the patterns of Romani fabrics, and dazzling chequerboard interiors recalling scenes from Beetlejuice. Pointed rooftops shimmer with metallic fish-scale shingles, crowned with symphonies of ornamental ironmongery. They look like stacks of tinfoil tiaras, reaching ever higher towards the skies. There’s a mansion with a gigantic golden dome, loosely modelled on the US Capitol in Washington DC. “The owner told me it was inspired by the back of the $50 bill,” says Ghinițoiu. “He didn’t know what the building was, but to him it represented power and wealth.”

It’s not hard to see why some successful Roma families are so keen to show off their new-found riches. Originally hailing from northern India, this nomadic ethnic group arrived in Romania in the 14th century, and were immediately enslaved by the Orthodox church and the landed nobility in a system of brutal exploitation that continued for 500 years. When slavery was finally abolished in 1856, the 250,000 Roma slaves – around 7% of the Romanian population at the time – received no reparations, while their abusers were handsomely compensated.

The following century saw a similar number of Roma murdered by the Nazis, while the postwar communist government of Romania enforced their settlement in the 1960s and 70s, outlawed their traditional trades and dispersed families around the country. “They had left their homeland to find a better life,” says Ghinițoiu, “only to end up in Romania, where they faced the same persecution and the same inhuman treatment.”

After the fall in 1989 of communist dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu – who himself had a ravenous penchant for bling-laden palaces – the Roma enjoyed newfound freedom. Some became wealthy overnight from the return of gold that had been confiscated by the communists. Others did well out of the scrap metal trade, or found work overseas, or prospered from the grey areas of the emerging market economy. The palaces stand as literal representations of various families’ rise to wealth; teetering trophies of their triumph against the odds and a gaudy rebuke to a society that suppressed them for so long. Their tumultuous stories are sometimes referenced in the architecture itself.

Teetering trophies of triumph … a residence in Drăgănești-Olt, Romania. Photograph: Laurian Ghinitoiu

On a prominent corner of the main street in Buzescu, two hours’ drive southwest from Bucharest, stands a house that has the neoclassical look of a town hall. Sturdy white columns march along its two-storey frontage, beneath a pediment emblazoned with the name of its owner, Dan Finuțu.

“It is the most important building in our beautiful Buzescu,” one local resident tells me, breaking off from a wedding parade which is cavorting down the street to the sound of a lively manele band. Finuțu, it turns out, was a prominent and wealthy member of the Roma community who was jailed for fraud in the 1990s. As he was sentenced, he vowed to build a mansion modelled on the very courthouse where he was convicted. He was a man of his word: this stately doppelgänger was completed in 2003. Finuțu and his wife were killed in a car crash in 2012, and their bodies now rest in a mausoleum on the edge of town designed in the form of another smaller version of the courthouse – an architectural middle finger from beyond the grave.

Back in Hășdat, I find a creamy mansion whose three-tiered, red-tiled roof is crowned with a metalwork sign that reads: “Vila British.” It is the home of Puiu Englezu, who made his fortune in Croydon, according to his neighbour. He is locally renowned for his gold accessories, including a necktie made of gold links, and the gigantic twin palaces he built for his sons, Codruţ and Rambo. Their interiors look like something from a Harrods fever dream, swelling with swagged curtains, ceramic chandeliers and gilded thrones, flanked by gold statues of tigers. Luxury cars with British numberplates throng the forecourt in summertime.

‘An architectural middle finger’ … Dan Finuțu’s mansion, replicating the courthouse in which he was convicted. Photograph: Oliver Wainwright

“These homes are all about pakiv, the Romani idea of social capital,” says Rudolf Gräf, author of a book about the palace phenomenon. “They attract respect for a person who was able to deal so successfully with the outside world, which is a sign of achievement for this relatively closed community. A house like this is the ultimate proof of success.” Exotic worldly symbols are used alongside logos of luxury brands to signify success overseas. In the town of Haţeg, near Hășdat, there is a two-metre model of the Eiffel Tower on one rooftop – to which the neighbours responded by erecting a model of the Statue of Liberty on theirs.

These palaces are not homes as we conventionally know them but supersized objects that serve a ritualistic role. They represent the core institution of the clan, a place to host special events such as weddings, funerals and family parties. Their owners don’t usually live in them and, despite their immense size, they rarely contain kitchens or bathrooms. Day-to-day domestic functions mostly take place in smaller buildings around the back. “The Roma observe a strict separation of vujo and marime,” says Gräf, meaning clean and dirty. “These are sacred spaces, like a church, so they shouldn’t be contaminated by toilets or dirty water. We might be used to bathroom plumbing, but for them it’s weird having [that] running through your walls.”

Ghinițoiu’s photographs show interiors as immaculate stage sets; empty backdrops awaiting the next celebration. One shows a bright white entrance hall flanked by a grand, double-curved staircase on either side. But there is no balustrade on these perilous steps, and they don’t seem to lead anywhere beyond an unusable mezzanine decorated with vases and classical statues.

Just for show … the staircases to nowhere. Photograph: Laurian Ghinitoiu

Another image shows the sanctified chamber of a dowry room, where the bride’s haul of embroidered fabrics is kept safely in cupboards. “The family of the bride provides the dowry,” says Ghinițoiu “and the family of the groom builds the house.” More than a home, these palaces serve as a means of alliance-building between families, and act as symbolic vessels for the storage of the dowry: high-rise treasure chests clad in mouldings and mirrored glass.

Buzescu’s main street reads like a bar-chart of familial oneupmanship, lined on either side with ever more outrageous confections. There are rooftops crowned with spiked metal balls, as if plucked from the end of a medieval mace, others that conjure witches’ cottages or castle turrets. And there are plenty more where the money appears to have abruptly run out, leaving empty shells of unplastered blockwork and raw concrete porticos; Ozymandian relics of architectural hubris that dared to dream too big.

“My feeling is we have reached the end of the boom period,” says Gräf, “and that wealth will now be spent on other things. Some families told me they had spent a lot of money on building a house, but their kids didn’t know how to do anything because they had spoiled them so much. In hindsight, they thought it might have been more important to send them to school.”

Whatever their future, these fantastical palaces stand as bold, brash monuments to hastily accrued riches, symbols of a moment when a formerly nomadic group – with no history of erecting permanent buildings – decided to go all out and make their mark.

Cover Me Softly, the Timișoara architecture biennale, ends on 27 October.

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a linguist on how the film has held up

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On October 21 1964, the iconic and much-celebrated film My Fair Lady premiered in Hollywood. Sixty years later, the film remains an enjoyable rollick full of catchy songs, but is not a wholly accurate depiction of what linguists do – certainly not nowadays at least.

Linguists are far from the academics who are most frequently depicted in films. It’s normally the white-coat, work-in-a-lab, scientist-of-some-nondescript-sort professors who get to give stark warnings or unsettling research insights to the maverick protagonist. But My Fair Lady is a film all about linguistics (and also class, love and terrible Cockney accents – more on that later).

In the film, Professor Henry Higgins (Rex Harrison), takes under his wing a Cockney flower seller called Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn). He wagers with his friend and fellow haughty linguist, Colonel Pickering, that he can teach her to speak “properly”.

It seems at first there is no hope but – hoorah! – Eliza finally grasps it, suddenly blurting out “the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain” in a perfect imitation of Queen’s English.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmADMB2utAo[/embed]

Doolittle then dazzles at an embassy ball, the perfect replica of an upstanding posh woman – or, as the film’s title suggests, a “lady” (itself a problematic word which encodes sexist tropes about what should be aspirational and respectable for women).

She even fools a man who has made a name for himself by identifying imposters based on their accent. Though, you may also wonder if she evades detection by barely speaking at the ball, converted into a demure and unforthcoming shadow of her previously forthright, unapologetic and garrulous self.

Professor Higgins: not your typical linguist

My Fair Lady avoids the common pitfall of assuming that the primary endeavour of the linguist is to learn as many different languages as they can, collecting them like stamps (the film Arrival can take note). But it still doesn’t get our job quite right.

I, for one, have never groomed a young, destitute woman to speak “correctly” while moulding her into a “respectable”, posh woman (if only modern academia granted the breathing space for such folly).

Linguists love, celebrate and are constantly itching to understand, study and explore the diverse tapestry of accents, dialects and languages that exist in the UK and around the world. We have no interest in reinforcing any societal ideal for a supposedly “correct” accent, or throwing a grammar rule book at unwitting members of the public.

By contrast, Higgins is repulsed by any accent that is not Queen’s English (which, by a wonderful turn of luck, is also his accent). In the opening number, he has a pop at the dialects of Yorkshire, Cornwall, America, Scotland and Ireland.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAYUuspQ6BY[/embed]

But he is particularly dismayed and repulsed that Doolittle, despite being from London, has a strong London accent (or she is meant to at least – I can only imagine Hepburn was instructed to open her mouth as wide as possible for all vowels and caw like a crow if all else fails).

Higgins makes various proclamations which will have you shouting at the telly, “Steady on, Professor!”. In his words:

Look at her, a prisoner of the gutter / Condemned by every syllable she ever utters / By right, she should be taken out and hung for the cold-blooded murder of the English tongue.

Best not tell him “hanged” is the past tense of “hang” when referring to capital punishment, else he walk himself straight to the gallows.

With a little bit of accent prejudice

The real beast in disguise at the embassy ball is not young, Cockney, Eliza Doolittle. It is misogyny and contempt for the working class that hides behind a mask of maintaining good standards and protecting the English language.

It is no coincidence that women and working-class people (and Cockneys who are often seen as emblematic of the working class) often bear the brunt of accent prejudice.

Accent prejudice is a smokescreen for broader societal prejudice. My Fair Lady seems antiquated and quaint in many ways – like Higgins using a gramophone to play back recordings of Doolittle – but accent prejudice is alive and well.

Women in the UK such as Alex Scott, Angela Rayner and Priti Patel still routinely face criticism, commentary and contempt for their regional accents.




Read more:
Ask or aks? How linguistic prejudice perpetuates inequality


You might think that the film’s lesson is for Doolittle to take on the world with her freshly mastered “standard” accent. After all, she consented to being ridiculed and paraded around like a show dog as she felt her accent prevented her from getting a job in a flower shop. Now, nothing stands in her way.

But people should not have to change their accent to get along – and it is not always possible or even a guaranteed ticket out of discrimination. If we take the accent out of accent prejudice, we are still left with the prejudice – let’s remove the prejudice and be left with the accent.

We need more unapologetically working-class women with regional accents at the embassy ball, but also in politics, academia, in the media and in all walks of life.

In the film, Doolittle ultimately feels she has been used and disrespected, leading her to sour on Higgins. After she leaves, he grows to miss her and wistfully plays back recordings of her voice.

And this is the real lesson for viewers today. Higgins has gotten to know Doolittle as a person and now sees beyond her accent and his own prejudice. The more we hear people with regional accents, the more normal and uneventful it becomes, and the more we will focus on what they say and not how they say it.

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‘It romanticised my night!’ The R&B slow jam events making Black British clubbers swoon | R&B

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It’s just past 5pm in West Silvertown, a random-feeling stop on the DLR line in east London’s docklands. It’s not the sexiest time or location, but as my friend and I step inside a nightclub, The Cause, a crowd is singing along to Joe’s outrageously horny 1996 hit All The Things (Your Man Won’t Do). The DJ smoothly transitions into SZA’s Snooze, and the energy in the room shifts – phones shoot up in the air as everyone prepares to belt out the chorus: “I can’t looooose, when I’m with yooooou!”

This is SlowJamsWithA, part of a growing craze where club nights focus not on uptempo pop, house, techno or rap, but instead on slow, sensual R&B that’s usually confined to headphones, or indeed the bedroom. It might seem paradoxical in a club setting, but it’s proving to be a profound and emotional format in Black British nightlife.

The crowd at SlowJamsWithA. Photograph: Ty Hinds <tyhindsmgmt@gmail.com>

For many Black people, mainstream venues in areas such as central London’s Mayfair or Soho have long been exclusionary, with subtly discriminatory or even outright racist door policies. R&B and slow jam events are, by contrast, welcoming and generally Black-run, and feature music that deeply resonates with Black audiences – there are no worries about arbitrary dress codes or being unfairly judged. “It’s just good vibes all around,” says one attender at The Cause as she queues up for food. “You can sing along to all your favourite tracks, and no one’s acting stoosh [stuck up].”

SlowJamsWithA have hosted parties across London and cultivated a devoted, cross-generational following drawn to – at the event I attend – a blend of old-school R&B tracks from artists such as SWV alongside more recent talent from the US and UK, such as Odeal, JayO, Summer Walker, and Giveon.

Their first party was back in 2021, after the success of the Slow Jams with AAA show on No Signal Radio during the pandemic. “We were curious to see if there was an appetite for an actual event,” says one of the founders, Ty Hinds – and sure enough, that opening event was so overwhelmingly well attended, it ended up getting shut down by security.

Now scaled up at The Cause, the DJ makes an announcement that gets a few laughs: “I don’t want to see anyone crying in the club!” R&B slow jams are centred around heartbreak as often as lust – but, equally aware of the latter, the DJ makes a point of reminding everyone to be respectful and honour women’s boundaries.

While I notice a few men approaching women and mingling – and some of the SlowJamsWithA marketing leans into that romantic vibe – that isn’t the dominant mood of the event. Tasha, who has been a longtime listener of the radio show, says it’s more somewhere for friends: “Me and my girls always sing our hearts out.”

R&B & Slow Jams is a similar venture. Created in 2022 by DJ Chuckie Online and podcaster Tazer Black, it lacks a home base but puts on events across the UK, Ireland, Germany and Dubai.

And then there’s London-based Room 187, named after Your Love Is a 187 by Whitehead Bros, which was originally launched as a room in online community Clubhouse in 2021 before hosting its debut event in August of that year. Iconic British R&B artists such as Lemar and Big Brovaz have performed at Room 187, along with American singer Jon B, known for his hit song They Don’t Know, a staple on slow jams playlists. “We wanted to create a space where people could enjoy their favourite tracks and sing along, but not necessarily in a typical party atmosphere,” co-founder Benjamin Bennett explains. “Which is why we introduced the gameshow element.”

I head along to Room 187’s third-anniversary event at Islington Assembly Hall in north London. It is a markedly different experience to SlowJamsWithA: as well as having a gameshow format, it’s strictly R&B and hip-hop from before 2008.

I’m handed a karaoke card with a QR code on arrival, which unlocks a playlist of timeless R&B classics. The temptation is there, but I haven’t had quite enough liquid courage to get up and sing. As I make my way to the bar for a rum punch, DJ Kopeman plays Ja Rule and Ashanti’s iconic Always on Time followed by other nostalgic R&B anthems. Then the host introduces the two teams for the games: UK R&B singer Shae Universe leads one, content creator Leoni Joyce the other.

The games continue at Room 187. Photograph: DB Captures

They have to guess the names of songs that have been chopped and changed, and the entire audience get involved, sighing in disbelief when the contestants can’t guess the song – all part of a joyful, playful atmosphere. The teams then compete in karaoke battles with themes, with audience members also taking part; the host prompts them to pick a song by an artist with braids, and the crowd roar in approval as one team breaks into Mario’s Just a Friend 2002, nailing both the theme and the vibe.

“It’s nostalgic of my journey with music growing up,” says Leoca, who is there celebrating a friend’s birthday. “Hearing music I haven’t heard in years romanticised my night and brought back fond memories. It’s always a great night when you can sing your heart out and dance with your babes.”

These parties have struck a deep chord with many in the Black British community, tapping into the nostalgia for when the genre soundtracked our childhoods. More than just a night out, it’s a return to music that shaped us – and done on our own terms. “These spaces are so important for our community,” Ty Hinds says, “a place where we can feel safe, relax, and enjoy the music we love.”



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Pocket Passiv Is a Tiny 366-Square-Foot Home in Australia

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Nestled in the dense urban suburb of Glebe, New South Wales, Australia, Pocket Passiv presents a unique solution to the housing challenges of inner-city living. Designed by Anderson Architecture, this tiny house project is a compact, sustainable residence that reimagines space utilization and energy efficiency. With a total area of just 366 square feet, the project makes ingenious use of a previously unused corner of a terrace house block, illustrating how even the smallest of spaces can be transformed into a functional, sustainable living environment.

Pocket Passiv embodies creativity in its compact design. Occupying a footprint of only 290 square feet, the two-story structure integrates a well-thought-out living arrangement. The lower floor combines a study and bedroom, while the upper floor houses a kitchen, dining, and living area, all within a minimalist framework. Despite its small size, the house manages to feel spacious, partly thanks to an impressive double-height bathroom and a clever use of vertical space. Submerged slightly below ground level, the design maintains privacy and ensures sunlight continues to reach neighboring courtyards. The building’s asymmetrical roof allows for hidden solar panels, balancing aesthetic considerations with energy generation needs.

Modern house with shingle siding and large geometric window, fronted by a black fence and a parked car.

A wooden shingle wall with an open door leading to a staircase inside. The door casts shadows on the exterior.

Pocket Passiv’s greatest achievement lies in its commitment to sustainability. The house meets the stringent Passivhaus Plus standard, a benchmark for energy-efficient construction originating in Germany. This means the house not only consumes minimal energy but also generates as much power as it uses, making it a net-zero energy building. The thoughtful design, including high-performance insulation and airtight construction, ensures thermal efficiency and comfort for its occupants. The use of solar panels on the roof and other green technologies enables the building to remain largely self-sufficient in energy needs.

Interior showing a wooden staircase leading to an upper level, a bedroom with a white bed, and a partial view of a bathroom with a mirror and artwork on the wall.

The project had to balance various constraints, including the demands of an inner-city location and the potential future needs of its occupants. From the outset, Pocket Passiv was designed with flexibility in mind. Its layout allows it to function as either a standalone residence or an extension of the larger terrace house on the property, opening up options for multigenerational living or rental opportunities. It even has the potential to serve as short-term accommodation with its own private street entrance. The split-level design offers a clear separation between living and private spaces, avoiding the cramped feeling of many studio apartments.

A modern interior with a staircase featuring built-in storage drawers under the steps, light wood flooring, and a large green plant in the foreground.

Modern interior with yellow cabinets, large stainless steel fridge, and a person blurred in motion behind a semi-transparent divider, near a window with a geometric pendant light overhead.

One of the key challenges in designing Pocket Passiv was making efficient use of the tight space while adhering to the client’s diverse needs. Originally envisioned as part of a broader renovation plan for the adjacent terrace house, the studio evolved into a standalone structure. This presented its own set of architectural hurdles, from maintaining privacy and access to natural light, to blending the new build harmoniously into its historic surroundings.

Modern kitchen with yellow cabinetry, a built-in oven, stainless steel fridge, and two wooden stools. A skylight provides natural light. Walls feature a white tile backsplash.

A minimalist room with a beige sofa, wooden bench, and windows. Shelves hold books and decor. A plant trails from a shelf, and a round rug is on the floor.

The project’s success can largely be attributed to the collaborative efforts between the client, architect, and builder, who worked together to achieve the ambitious sustainability goals. The use of wood shingles, which will weather over time, ensures that the building will age gracefully, adding to the architectural fabric of the Glebe neighborhood.

Two cars parked on a residential street; one white and one black. A house with a colorful mural is visible in the background alongside modern architecture and trees.

For more information on the Pocket Passiv house or Anderson Architecture, visit andersonarchitecture.com.au.

Photography by Tom Ferguson.

Caroline Williamson is Editor-in-Chief of Design Milk. She has a BFA in photography from SCAD and can usually be found searching for vintage wares, doing New York Times crossword puzzles in pen, or reworking playlists on Spotify.



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Just Plein Realism

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Paul Paiement paints in the open air in the great American west, Hilary Pecis in the sunlit yards and floral shops of Southern California. Paiement returns to a studied realism for an age that has seen it all come apart. Pecis may remind you more of pattern painting and the comforts of home.

Which is closest to the promise of landscape painting and a bicoastal art world? I bring this on Paiement together with my recent report on Pecis as a longer review and my latest upload.

Paiement is a plein air painter, and you know what that means. Such an artist works on the spot, for the freshness of the afternoon, the freshest of impressions, and, tradition has it, the freest of brushwork. He is also a photorealist, for crisp, glistening, painstaking surfaces that record every detail and thrust it in your face. And then he is a trompe l’oeil painter, who can fool you into taking collage for paint and painting for the thing itself. If that seems a lot to handle, he keeps finding new ways to say “you are there”—and dares you to tell one from another. The labels can come later, if they apply at all, at Ethan Cohen through November 23.

Of course, those things cannot all be true at once, not for the most marvelous of painters. Paiement is not taking advantage of a glorious afternoon to take you up the Seine with Claude Monet and a boatload of the French middle class. Nor does he leave anything about the handling of his brush to chance. But Paiement does work outdoors, in the sun-baked American west. Impressionism led directly to the uncanny precision of Georges Seurat and Pointillism, but not even he would go there. If that sounds a bit forbidding for all its familiar glory, Paiement is all about bringing you close and standing apart.

He could be measuring out the distance. Where photorealism tends to mean portraits, including nude portraits, he has no obvious signs of life—not so much as the shadow of the artist or the feet of his easel. And where trompe l’oeil means still life, this is still landscape, and titles specify the location. It looks like collage all the same. Paiement paints on wood panels, leaving much of the grain exposed. He layers plywood strips and Plexiglas patches on top.

At any rate, I think so, because he can indeed fool the eye. One might mistake the painted areas for prints, torn freely and mounted on wood. Their edges look that dark and real. Even now I probably underestimate just how much is a single field of paint. So what's NEW!Nor can I say for sure when clear Plexiglas allows a cloudy look at the surface and when Paiement continues to paint over the Plexiglas. Nature and handiwork come together.

Ultimately, he is painting, building an image of intense sunlight and measured shadows. Distant hills fade into the haze of saturated color, leaving that much more to move forward into the picture plane. The cloudiness of Plexiglas could be part of that haze. The wood grain in unpainted areas can seem part of the scene itself—or the same scene in a different season or under a different light. It is palpable but visual. It just may not be what you expect.

Paiement has worked closer to home, but always in sunlight. Past work in his “Nexus” series has included offices and industry in its imagery and architecture. Nature’s pillars in his new work look almost manmade as well. Still, that kind of architecture is notoriously distancing. It is hard to imagine living in his work or escaping it. Painting has its illusions, its categories, and its myths.

Read more, now in a feature-length article on this site.

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Legal Aspects of Selling Art Online: Copyrights, Contracts, and More – How to Sell Art Online

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Selling art online has become an increasingly popular avenue for artists to showcase and monetize their work. However, this convenience comes with a set of legal considerations that every artist and seller should be aware of. 

Among these, copyrights stand out as a fundamental aspect of selling art online. This article will delve into the legal landscape surrounding online art sales, focusing on copyrights, contracts, and additional legal concerns that artists need to navigate.

Understanding Copyrights

Copyright is a form of intellectual property protection that grants the creator exclusive rights to their work. In the context of art, copyright protects the expression of ideas rather than the ideas themselves. This means that an artist holds the exclusive right to reproduce, distribute, and display their artwork. When selling art online, understanding copyright is crucial for both artists and buyers.

Key points to remember:

  • Automatic protection: Copyrights are generally granted automatically upon creation of a work.
  • Registration: While registration is not mandatory, it provides additional benefits, such as the ability to sue for infringement and recover statutory damages.
  • Copyright infringement: If someone infringes on your copyright, you may have legal recourse.

How Copyright Works

In most jurisdictions, copyright is automatically conferred upon the creation of an original work. This means that as soon as an artist creates a piece of art, they own the copyright to it, provided it is fixed in a tangible medium. This includes paintings, drawings, digital art, and photographs. While registration of copyright with a government authority can enhance an artist’s ability to enforce their rights, it is not a requirement for protection.

Copyright Infringement

Selling art online also means that artists must be vigilant about copyright infringement. Unauthorized use of an artist’s work—such as reproducing it without permission—constitutes infringement. This can occur in various forms, including digital reproductions, merchandise, or even unauthorized displays on social media platforms. Artists need to be proactive in monitoring the use of their work and be prepared to take legal action if necessary.

Contracts: The Backbone of Online Sales

In addition to understanding copyright, artists should be well-versed in the importance of contracts when selling art online. Contracts serve as legal agreements between parties and are essential for clarifying the terms of sale, rights granted, and obligations of each party.

Essential Elements of a Sales Contract

A solid sales contract should include the following elements:

  1. Description of the Artwork: Clearly describe the artwork being sold, including dimensions, medium, and any unique features.
  2. Purchase Price: Specify the price agreed upon for the sale and any applicable taxes or fees.
  3. Payment Terms: Outline how and when payment will be made, including any deposit requirements.
  4. Delivery Terms: Define how the artwork will be delivered, who is responsible for shipping costs, and the timeline for delivery.
  5. Copyright and Licensing: Clearly state whether the seller retains copyright or if any rights are transferred to the buyer. This section is crucial in protecting the artist’s interests.
  6. Returns and Refunds: Include terms for returns or refunds, detailing the conditions under which these may occur.
  7. Governing Law: Specify which jurisdiction’s laws will govern the contract in case of a dispute.

Protecting Your Interests

Contracts not only protect the seller but also provide clarity for buyers, establishing a professional relationship. Using a written agreement reduces misunderstandings and can help mitigate disputes. Even when selling art on informal platforms or social media, having a clear contract in place is advisable.

Additional Legal Considerations

While copyrights and contracts are central to selling art online, there are other legal aspects that artists should consider.

Licensing Agreements

If an artist chooses to allow others to use their artwork—whether for reproduction, merchandise, or other uses—they should enter into a licensing agreement. This legal document specifies how the artwork can be used, the duration of the license, and any compensation the artist will receive. Licensing can provide a valuable revenue stream for artists while maintaining control over their work.

Taxes and Compliance

Selling art online can have tax implications, and artists must be aware of their obligations. In many jurisdictions, artists are required to collect sales tax on transactions, which may vary depending on the location of the buyer. It is essential to consult with a tax professional to understand local laws and ensure compliance.

Privacy and Data Protection

When selling art online, artists often collect personal information from buyers, such as names, addresses, and payment details. It is essential to comply with data protection laws, which may require a privacy policy detailing how this information is used and stored. Ensuring the security of this data is not only a legal obligation but also builds trust with customers.

Moral Rights

In addition to copyright, artists may have moral rights, which can include the right to attribution and the right to integrity. Moral rights protect the personal and reputational value of a work and can vary significantly by jurisdiction. Artists should be aware of their moral rights and how they apply to online sales, as they may impact the way their work is displayed or altered.

Selling art online offers exciting opportunities for artists, but it also requires a solid understanding of the legal aspects involved. Copyrights are a critical foundation for protecting creative work, while contracts play a vital role in defining the terms of sale. Additionally, artists must navigate licensing, tax obligations, and privacy considerations to ensure compliance and protect their interests.

Seeking Legal Advice

Navigating the legal complexities of selling art online can be overwhelming. It is highly recommended to consult with an attorney specializing in intellectual property law to ensure that your business is protected. An attorney can provide tailored advice based on your specific circumstances and help you understand your legal rights and obligations.

By being informed and proactive about these legal aspects, artists can focus on what they do best: creating art. Whether selling through established platforms or personal websites, understanding the legal landscape will empower artists to thrive in the digital marketplace.



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Pedro Zylbersztajn Captures the Feeling of Linguistic Overload

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“Language is the bottom line of all my work,” Pedro Zylbersztajn told me over Zoom this spring, “and also the beginning of it.” From such a linguistic genesis, critical expressions have emerged in modes as varied as drawing, video, installation, and performance, but Zylbersztajn had been grappling with language and the way it moves through the world—as knowledge, as information, as rhetoric—for years before he took up art making.

Pedro Zylbersztajn: three Digestions, 2023.

Born in São Paulo in 1993, Zylbersztajn studied graphic design and printmaking before working in art publishing, which amplified his interest in discursive networks as a locus of creative potential. In 2016 he enrolled in the MIT graduate program in Art, Culture, and Technology, which he found a paradigm-shifting experience. There, Zylbersztajn learned to consider how “the materiality and discursivity” of his practice could “feed off each other,” he told me. Instead of working within circumscribed forms and familiar processes to produce objects, like publishing books or prints, he began to consider the very motions of doing, thinking through actions—like circulation, collection, and consumption—as well as the forms that these verbs produce.

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While a student, Zylbersztajn began to experiment with performance, which, by 2019, became central to his practice. That year, he staged Waiting Room at Galerie Art & Essai, in France. For the installation-performance hybrid, guests were directed to the exhibition space, a waiting room replica, by ushers who never returned to collect them, producing the banal anxiety of liminal, unstructured time. Zylbersztajn became interested in the ways we are pushed to “perform everydayness”—in this case, to behave as one would while waiting. As he puts it, “everything we do is a small gesture that is confined by a certain set of protocols that order our quotidian [experiences].” By thinking through the disciplinary norms of our social and physical environments, his work asks, “how does a gestural shift in performance change absolutely everything?”

4 people in a pink waiting room with red dchairs and two plants.

Pedro Zylbersztajn: Waiting Room, 2019.

These everyday gestures are the focus of Zylbersztajn’s recent three-channel video Three Digestions (2023), completed during his residency last year in Switzerland at Kulturhaus Villa Sträuli. A central screen plays looped footage from an endoscopy, a camera tunneling through pixelated innards. Flanking the display are two other screens, each running a video that echoes the first screen’s action, but meandering through institutional collections in lieu of human viscera. One side shows the stacks of a national public library, the other, an ethnographic museum.

The impossible speed at which we are compelled to “digest” words and images is also the subject of his video Yesterday’s song for afterwards (2022), in which lines of text and brief, flashing images simulate a kind of quotidian, metabolic unconscious. This piece feels especially perceptive at a time when the inundation of image and text defines everyday life, even as access to such mediated stimuli is regulated by profit mechanisms beyond our control. By reminding us that what we consume through perceptual encounters is shaped by—and in turn, can shape—the protocols that define language and history, Zylbersztajn’s work asks us to confront the processes that determine our experience of reality.

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‘I miss her a lot’: Andrew Garfield telling Elmo about grief was his best work yet | Movies

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Andrew Garfield has been hitting the promotional trail hard for his new film We Live in Time. Maybe, you could say, a bit too hard. There are the many, many chemistry-heavy online videos with Florence Pugh. There’s his Chicken Shop Date video with Amelia Dimoldenberg, which is less an interview and more a terrifying nexus point for one-sided online parasocial celebrity relationships. Garfield even took a cardboard cutout of Pugh to a recent red carpet event, which if nothing else signals an aggressive desire to become more meme than man.

However, one promotional pit stop has singlehandedly managed to save Garfield. Two days ago, a video of him talking to Elmo was released online. In it, Garfield discusses the death of his mother and the complicated forms that his grief has taken.

“I’m just thinking about my mum today,” he tells Elmo. “She passed away not too long ago, and I miss her a lot.” Elmo tells Garfield that he gets sad when he misses people, but Garfield replies that: “Sadness is kind of a gift. It’s a lovely thing to feel, in a way, because it means you really love somebody when you miss them … it makes me feel close to her when I miss her.”

Something like this – an actor simplifying bereavement for the benefit of a puppet – could be cloying. Yet there is absolutely no doubt that Garfield is being utterly sincere. He stumbles over some of his lines. His eyes prick with tears as he speaks. It is not, as you can imagine, something you should watch without steeling yourself a bit beforehand.

This isn’t a new subject for Garfield. A couple of years ago, he found himself discussing his mother’s 2019 death while promoting his film Tick, Tick… Boom! He fought through tears during an appearance on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert. He’s spoken about it with Variety, with Channel 4, with this publication, and managed to be clear-eyed and eloquent whenever the subject came up.

To some extent, I can relate. My mum died a couple of years before Garfield’s, and in similar circumstances. Like Garfield, I had to go and promote something while it was happening. In my case it was a book that I wrote because I knew she was ill and the publication coincided with the end of her life. Going in front of people to speak about her, while it was far too close to process, was a deeply complicated thing. It was nice to be able to tell stories about her, but at the same time it was a fully groggy out-of-body experience. And I was only talking to a few hundred people at a time. Garfield had to talk to the entire world, while simultaneously knowing that most people just wanted to know if he was going to be Spider-Man again. The fortitude this must have required.

Andrew Garfield with a Florence Pugh cutout at the We Live in Time London premiere. Photograph: Anthony Harvey/REX/Shutterstock

However, in this most recent instance, Garfield at least had Elmo to help him. This must have been some comfort because there’s something about Elmo, some innate puppet magic, that allows whoever he’s talking with to be the version of themselves that they most are. Look at the video of Elmo talking to Ricky Gervais, in which the actor gripes about not being paid and then mentions the Holocaust, prompting Elmo to rail at the director for losing control of the interview.

Or look at the more recent video of the Today show, in which Larry David stormed on to the set unprompted and throttled Elmo because he couldn’t stand his squeaky voice. Would David have throttled a human interviewee? Would he have even throttled Big Bird? No, because Elmo grants people the gift of letting them be their truest self.

And so it is with Garfield. His Elmo segment let him take a step back from his memefication and talk about something that truly matters to him, with far more genuine emotion than stars often show while they’re out punting their movies. We should be thankful for the both of them.

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Aline Asmar d’Amman Talks Beloved Bookshop, Antiques + More

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Born In Lebanon, Aline Asmar d’Amman was surrounded by the restoration and reconstruction in her homeland. The dialogue between heritage and modernity struck a chord with this creative, who had already decided to become an architect when she was a teen. “I learned to find beauty in ruins and cherish the sense of perfect imperfections,” says d’Amman.

Contemporary buildings are just as impressive to her, particularly the Vitra Fire Station by Zaha Hadid. Located in Weil am Rhein, Germany, this sharp structure stands in total opposition to antiquity. For d’Amman, it is a powerful work because it’s essentially timeless and could exist in any place – without a date or style.

Aline Asmar d’Amman Photo: Chloé Le Reste

A true Parisian at heart, d’Amman cites her upbringing in a Francophile environment in Beirut, where refinement coexists amidst chaos, as the greatest influence on her life and work. The City of Lights inspired her love of interior design, and is a central facet of the projects her cross-disciplinary firm, Culture in Architecture, is known for.

While  d’Amman’s world revolves around evocative visual elements, the designer is an avid reader fascinated by the power of words. Books have always been a means of escape for her, and they serve as both armor and a shield. When d’Amman was a child, she would sit and hide with a tome under the table when faced with a difficult situation. She knew that the volumes would not save her or change her circumstances, but they were a way to travel and, for a moment, forget everything else.

Books, ink, and paper were the threads of the first conversations she had with legendary fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld. The duo collaborated on two memorable projects, the Hôtel de Crillon’s Les Grands Appartements, and “Architectures,” Lagerfeld’s collection of functional sculptures. It’s a cherished time that made a lasting impact. “Being Karl’s architect will always be one of the most incredible thrills of my adult working life,” notes d’Amman. “The level of one’s expectations suddenly shifts to higher levels when we’re lucky to find an inspirational mentor and character to challenge our imagination.”

Today, Aline Asmar d’Amman  joins us for Friday Five!

A person walks near a tall, dark monolith standing upright on a textured landscape at dusk or dawn.

Photo: Qatar Museums

I first visited Richard Serra’s ”East-West/West-East” in the Qatari desert in November 2021.

Powerful and mesmerizing, it has infused me with a mystical feeling ever since. I often find myself returning to this sublime discovery, in search of the raw sense of elevation and suspension that only true art can provoke.

Mind-blowing. Sacred space. Open to all: the sand, the wind, the moon, and the people, day and night. The extraordinary encounter of Richard Serra’s steel sheets emerging from prehistoric rock formations, in a blue night where the sky turns from pink to purple, is an unmatched dose of beauty and emotion. The powerful vision that Sheikha Al-Mayassa and Qatar Museums are weaving is inspiring beyond words—just like this eternal gesture in the middle of the Qatari desert.

Snow-covered landscape with mountains in the background under a pink and blue sky at sunset. A small village is visible on the left side.

Photo: Aline Asmar d’Amman

2. The Mountains and Valleys of Engadin, Switzerland

I owe much of my sense of beauty and inspiration to the sumptuous mountains, lakes, walks, and ever-changing skies of Engadin. This is where I spend Christmas and start every new year with my family and loved ones.

I associate this ever-changing scenery and light that happens within the same day with Joan Didion’s quote from her cherished book: “Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.”

I start every year with these powerful words.

A room filled with stacked books, a table with candles and flowers, sofas, a piano, and decorative tables with books and grapes. An art piece hangs on the wall.

Photo: Mathieu Zazzo

The 7L, the sacred, ultra-vibrant cathedral of books, houses Karl Lagerfeld’s collection of 33,000 volumes, in what was once his photo studio. This is where I met Karl for the first time and often joined him for our work sessions.

Today, the place has been given a new lease of life, thanks to its acquisition by CHANEL and the vision of Laurence Delamare, who, together with a passionate team, brings together a circle of Friends of 7L for creative and cultural events. I start my projects by accumulating inspiring books and visiting soulful places. This one definitely nourished my soul with knowledge and wit, specially the conversations with the spirited librarians of this magic house!

A collection of sculptural pieces, including a large bust, several columns, and an ornate frame, displayed outside.

French antique market Paul Bert Serpette in Saint-Ouen Photo: Aline Asmar d’Amman

4. Treasurable Hunts

Treasure hunting for our projects is an emotional adventure filled with surprises and stories of serendipity. More than the finds themselves, I love the layered stories behind each piece shared by the antique dealers, brimming with enthusiasm and culture. This head of David and the remains of the Roman goddess next to it are heading straight into one of our projects. I visited them like old friends many times and couldn’t let go of the attachment to their scars. I know they will delight all the visitors who stumble upon them soon in a fantastic garden to come.

Person dressed in an elaborate green gown with a long train and feathered headdress, posed against a draped fabric background.

Stella Tennant in John Galliano’s 1998 Marchesa Casati collection for Christian Dior Haute Couture, Vogue, May 2006 Photo: Mario Testino

5. Fashion Photography of La Casati, Reinterpreted by John Galliano and Karl Lagerfeld

Women are heroes! Legendary characters and fashion’s ability to capture a certain state of mind nurture the storytelling in my projects. When working on the epic renovation of Palazzo Dona Giovannelli, I imagine Marchesa Luisa Casati, the extravagant figure known for her femme fatale looks and allure, walking into the room. I love Karl Lagerfeld’s and John Galliano’s take on this iconic legend in the 21st century, dressed to seduce with audacity and irreverence.

 

Works by Aline Asmar d’Amman:

Le Jules Verne restaurant by Frederic Anton The Eiffel Tower is the rebellious sentinel of Paris, an architectural fantasy that spreads its magic across the world. High engineering, audacity, lighting, modernity, femininity… these elements inspired the interiors I imagined for Le Jules Verne restaurant during its complete renovation. Le Jules Verne offers a unique encounter between the culinary and decorative arts, high in the clouds of the Parisian sky. It is a delicate equation, blending the raw and the precious, the hand of man and the lace of the Iron Lady, with reflections and connections between the exterior and new interior perspectives.

“Les Grands Appartements” by Karl Lagerfeld at Hôtel de Crillon, a Rosewood Hotel My collaboration on Karl Lagerfeld’s ‘Les Grands Appartements’ at the Hôtel de Crillon is a defining moment in my career as an architect. The interiors of ‘Les Grands Appartements’ encapsulate the best of what Paris has to offer in terms of 18th-century French heritage, modernized by one of the greatest geniuses of our time. Uncompromising elegance and a timeless classic feel permeate this space, marked by the indelible signature of Karl’s knowledge and impeccable taste.

My Parisian Home A sense of celebration and the magic of unexpected encounters define the spirit of my Parisian home. The celebration of love, family, and diversity is infused into every room, with a confident freedom in blending old soul with contemporary creativity through the power of art. With my Lebanese roots and Parisian heart, a connection to my hometown, and a magnetic bond with my husband’s Swiss heritage, life is divided between three cities I call home and numerous destinations, following the flow of my design studio projects, Culture in Architecture. Home is a feeling—a celebration of life and love, a nest for dreams and memories shared with family and friends.

Culture in Architecture Studio, Paris My design studio in Paris is nestled in an atelier that has witnessed decades of design practice before us. A century of French architects from the Blavette-Gelis family have worked here since 1889. Once filled with vintage drawing tables and the first printed plans of Paris, it is now brimming with books, boards, and materials that fuel imagination and open us to the world. This is where my team and I meet with collaborators, friends, gallerists, artists, and artisans who inspire us, leaving energized by the unique perspective and mesmerizing views of Paris.

Anna Zappia is a New York City-based writer and editor with a passion for textiles, and she can often be found at a fashion exhibit or shopping for more books. Anna writes the Friday Five column, as well as commercial content.



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