Icelandic artist Ragnar Kjartansson’s exhibition Mercy presents a wide-ranging examination of repetition, ritual, beauty and cultural identity, bringing together works that span years of artistic production while reflecting changing political and social moods.

The exhibition showcases Kjartansson’s distinctive approach to performance-based video art, a practice that frequently draws on music, literature, theater and visual culture. Across the works on display, recurring themes include family relationships, the passage of time, collective memory and the tension between optimism and uncertainty in contemporary society.

Among the central works featured is Me and My Mother, an ongoing project that documents a repeated performance involving Kjartansson and his mother, actress Guðrún Ásmundsdóttir. In each iteration, Ásmundsdóttir spits repeatedly at her son while he faces the camera. The work, revisited over many years, has evolved in meaning as both artist and participant have aged.

What initially appeared as a deliberately confrontational gesture has increasingly been interpreted through the lens of family bonds, endurance and generational change. The repeated enactment of the same act over time has transformed the project into a record of ageing and commitment, highlighting the persistence of personal relationships through changing circumstances.

Repetition functions as a defining feature throughout Kjartansson’s artistic practice. His works often involve the prolonged performance of songs, phrases, gestures or actions, creating experiences that unfold gradually and invite reflection on duration and attention. By extending simple actions over extended periods, the artist seeks to reveal emotional and psychological dimensions that may otherwise remain unnoticed.

The exhibition also reflects the broad range of influences that have shaped Kjartansson’s work. References to painting, cinema, theater and politics are embedded throughout the presentation. Particular attention is given to literary influences, including the work of Russian playwright and author Anton Chekhov, whose exploration of human longing, disappointment and everyday life has informed aspects of Kjartansson’s artistic outlook.

Several works reveal how broader political and cultural developments have influenced the artist’s perspective over time. Earlier pieces are associated with a period of relative optimism that coincided with the presidency of former U.S. President . According to the exhibition narrative, these works emerged during a period when expectations for political and social progress appeared comparatively strong.

More recent projects adopt a more restrained tone, reflecting concerns about social fragmentation, political polarization and cultural uniformity. This shift is particularly evident in Scenes from Western Culture, a work composed of a sequence of carefully observed everyday moments. The scenes include a couple dining in an upscale restaurant, a woman swimming laps in a private pool and children playing in a garden.

Rather than focusing on dramatic events, the work examines ordinary experiences associated with affluence and stability. The images depict lives marked by comfort and security, yet the absence of significant action encourages viewers to consider questions surrounding meaning, routine and satisfaction in contemporary consumer societies.

Kjartansson has linked aspects of the work to his observations about globalization and the increasing similarity of cultural experiences across different countries. Reflecting on international travel, the artist noted that many destinations appeared remarkably alike, with comparable retail outlets, food offerings and popular music regardless of geographic location.

His comments point to a broader debate about the effects of economic integration and digital connectivity on local identity. While globalization has expanded access to products, services and cultural content, critics have argued that it has also contributed to the standardization of urban environments and consumer experiences. Kjartansson’s observations place his work within this wider discussion about cultural convergence in the twenty-first century.

The exhibition concludes with No Tomorrow, a large-scale work featuring eight dancers performing across a largely empty and highly polished stage. The minimalist setting directs attention to movement, rhythm and spatial relationships rather than narrative development.

According to Kjartansson, rehearsals for the work began during the first presidency of U.S. President . The artist has described the piece as an exploration of beauty and emptiness, emphasizing aesthetic experience rather than explicit political commentary.

The work also reflects ideas associated with American painter , whom Kjartansson cited while discussing the role of beauty in artistic creation. Drawing on Martin’s thinking, he suggested that art can function either as a celebration of beauty present in the world or as a response to its absence.

The exhibition’s title, Mercy, similarly operates on multiple levels. Kjartansson has associated the term with both compassion and violence, highlighting what he sees as the coexistence of grace and conflict in human experience. He has also pointed to the word’s religious associations, noting its connection to traditions of faith, symbolism and ritual.

These themes are reinforced through the structure of many of the works on display. The repeated singing of lyrics, cyclical movements and sustained performances often resemble ceremonial practices. While rooted in contemporary art, the works borrow elements commonly associated with religious observance, including repetition, devotion and collective participation.

By revisiting actions over extended periods and across different contexts, Kjartansson’s work examines how meaning can emerge through persistence rather than novelty. The exhibition presents a body of work that connects personal experience with broader questions about culture, politics, memory and identity, while exploring how repetition can transform ordinary gestures into enduring artistic statements.

Artists and cultural figures have reflected on the career and influence of David Hockney following the death of the British painter at the age of 88, describing an artist whose work shaped perceptions of modern life, technology and visual expression.

The responses highlighted the breadth of Hockney’s career, from his celebrated depictions of swimming pools and landscapes to his experiments with drawing, digital tools and new ways of representing space. Several artists said his approach influenced generations by presenting art as an open process of observation and exploration.

Artist Rachel Whiteread recalled first encountering Hockney’s work as a child, alongside other major modern artists. She said a television programme about him in the 1970s shaped her early understanding of what an artist could be.

“I remember seeing a TV programme about David in the 1970s as a young kid and thinking ‘wow, is that what being an artist is like?’” she said.Whiteread said Hockney appeared different from many artists of his generation because of his public presence and his willingness to embrace visibility.

She described him as someone who made the life of an artist appear accessible and energetic.“He was charismatic and fashionable and very out and proud,” she said, adding that he made being an artist look enjoyable and engaging.She also pointed to Hockney’s paintings of swimming pools in Los Angeles as among the works that had a particular impact on her.

She said she often thinks about his treatment of water when she swims, noting the complexity of his handling of light, depth and movement.“I actually think about him every time I go swimming,” she said. “It always astounds me how he painted water, and figures within water.”The pool paintings, created during his periods in California, represented a major phase of Hockney’s career.

Whiteread described them as distinct from the atmosphere of London and praised the way they captured layered surfaces and changing environments.She also highlighted his drawings, particularly his use of line and composition, saying they demonstrated his technical ability and his continuing commitment to visual experimentation.“He just never stopped painting,” Whiteread said.

“It was like he was breathing art.”Artist Jeremy Deller said Hockney’s influence extended beyond traditional painting and included his engagement with technology and public projects. Deller described him as a role model who remained active and curious throughout his career.“He humanised technology in a way that few have managed,” Deller said.

He recalled working with Hockney on a banner titled “The Unrepentant Smokers” for a procession in Manchester in 2009. Deller said the reaction from an anti-smoking councillor, who objected to the work, amused Hockney.Deller also referred to Hockney’s later immersive exhibition work, saying it demonstrated the artist’s continued interest in combining visual art with new forms of presentation.

Artist Tacita Dean pointed to Hockney’s influence on approaches to drawing and spatial representation. She said his work challenged traditional ideas of how images create a sense of place.Dean described Hockney’s immersive drawings as a significant contribution to contemporary art, saying they showed how lines could move beyond simply describing objects and instead create a sense of space.

“He created these immersive drawings that you could almost step into,” she said.She added that Hockney’s importance would take time to fully assess, but said his willingness to keep experimenting remained one of the defining aspects of his career.The director of Turner Contemporary, Clarrie Wallis, said Hockney’s work had played a major role in shaping public understanding of visual culture.

She said few artists had contributed as significantly to changing how people perceive the world around them.Hockney’s career was marked by a constant interest in new ways of seeing, whether through traditional painting, photography, digital technology or large-scale installations. His work often examined ordinary subjects, including landscapes, interiors and everyday objects, while exploring how images are constructed and interpreted.

The reflections from fellow artists focused on this continuing search for new perspectives. They described an artist who remained engaged with changing technologies and artistic methods while maintaining a strong connection to observation and drawing.For many who worked alongside or followed his career, Hockney’s influence was not limited to specific works or periods but was connected to his broader approach to making art.

His legacy, they said, lies in the way he expanded ideas about what painting could include and how audiences could experience images.

A series of self-portraits created by Tracey Emin following major cancer surgery has renewed critical attention on how artists depict illness, disability and bodily trauma through autobiographical work, drawing comparisons with the intensely personal paintings of Frida Kahlo.

Among the works attracting renewed discussion is a photographic self-portrait Emin took after being diagnosed with squamous cell bladder cancer in 2020. In the image, the artist photographs herself in a hospital mirror while partially shielding her chest with an iPhone.

The composition also shows medical devices associated with her treatment, including a catheter and urostomy bag, following surgery that resulted in the removal of several organs, including her bladder, uterus, ovaries and parts of her colon and vagina.The image has been interpreted by critics and viewers as part of Emin’s longstanding practice of confronting audiences with physical vulnerability and intimate bodily realities.

Despite the medical context, the work is marked by direct visual confrontation rather than retreat, continuing themes that have shaped Emin’s career since the 1990s.Following surgery, Emin publicly rejected attempts to frame her work primarily through the lens of confession or personal disclosure.

In interviews conducted after her treatment, she described her body and its changes as something fully under her own ownership and artistic control. Her comments reflected a broader resistance to the idea that depictions of illness by women artists must be understood as acts of apology, shame or emotional exposure.

Emin’s recent paintings have continued this engagement with mortality, chronic illness and recovery. Her 2023 work I watched Myself die and come alive depicts her body stretched across a table beneath the looming presence of death, while her mother’s ashes appear nearby in a casket.

Another painting, Barbed Wire Stitches from 2024, centres on surgical sutures and post-operative wounds, using distorted bodily imagery to foreground the physical consequences of illness.

The works formed part of a major exhibition at Tate Modern, where critics noted the continued intensity of Emin’s autobiographical style nearly three decades after My Bed brought her widespread international recognition.

Emin has frequently challenged the term “confessional art,” a label often attached to her work during the 1990s. In recent discussions with Maria Balshaw, the artist argued that her work was never intended as confession, but rather as a direct articulation of lived experience independent of audience expectations.

Art historians have increasingly situated Emin’s approach within a longer tradition of autobiographical female artists whose work engages directly with pain, disability and reproductive trauma. Comparisons with Kahlo have become especially prominent due to similarities in how both artists used self-representation to examine bodily suffering without idealisation.

Kahlo’s artistic practice was profoundly shaped by a 1925 bus accident in Mexico City that caused multiple life-altering injuries, including damage to her spine, pelvis and reproductive organs. During her lengthy recovery, her family installed a mirror above her bed, allowing her to paint self-portraits while immobilised. The experience became foundational to her artistic identity.

Works such as My Birth and The Broken Column depicted childbirth, miscarriage, chronic pain and bodily fracture in stark and often unsettling visual terms. In The Broken Column, Kahlo portrayed her torso split open to reveal a damaged classical column in place of a spine, visually linking physical injury with emotional endurance and religious symbolism.

Kahlo biographer Hayden Herrera wrote in 1983 that Kahlo’s work possessed an intensity capable of holding viewers “in an uncomfortably tight grip,” a description that has also been applied to Emin’s art. Both artists resisted conventional expectations surrounding feminine beauty and bodily privacy, instead foregrounding injury, blood, scars and medical intervention as central subjects.

Emin has publicly acknowledged Kahlo’s influence on her thinking about art and suffering. In a 2005 essay, she reflected on the repeated personal tragedies that shaped Kahlo’s life, including miscarriage and chronic illness, and questioned how different circumstances might have altered the Mexican artist’s trajectory.

For contemporary audiences, the renewed attention surrounding Emin’s post-cancer works coincides with broader conversations in art institutions about disability representation, chronic illness and the visibility of medical realities within contemporary culture.

Curators and critics have increasingly highlighted how artists such as Emin and Kahlo transformed private physical suffering into public artistic language without seeking sentimentality or reassurance.The continuing relevance of both artists also reflects changing attitudes toward representations of women’s bodies in pain.

Rather than framing illness as something hidden or resolved, their work presents physical vulnerability as inseparable from identity, memory and artistic production.

Kahlo’s retrospective exhibition is scheduled to open at Tate Modern next month, extending institutional focus on autobiographical art practices that centre illness, disability and bodily transformation.

Tributes from artists, musicians and curators following the death of Valie Export have highlighted her lasting influence on feminist art, performance practice and the political use of the body in public space.

Export, whose confrontational performances and photographic works helped redefine feminist avant-garde art in Europe from the late 1960s onward, was remembered this week by figures across contemporary art, music and theatre.

Many cited her willingness to challenge conventions surrounding nudity, spectatorship and gendered power structures.Canadian musician Peaches described one of Export’s most recognisable images — showing the artist in crotchless trousers holding a gun as permanently fixed in her memory.

Peaches said the photograph represented a fearless artistic gesture that continued to resonate decades after it was created.She also compared Export’s 1968 performance Tapp-und-Tastkino to Cut Piece by Yoko Ono. In the performance, Export wore a box resembling a miniature cinema over her bare chest and invited members of the public to place their hands inside through curtained openings.

Peaches said the work forced audiences to confront their own role in systems of looking, touch and power.Austrian choreographer and theatre director Florentina Holzinger said Export’s 1969 performance Genital Panic remained politically relevant in a digital era shaped by social media imagery and debates over bodily autonomy.

In the work, Export entered an experimental cinema in Munich wearing crotchless jeans and moved among seated audience members, confronting viewers directly with her exposed body. Holzinger said the performance challenged assumptions about how women’s bodies are viewed and regulated in public space.

She argued that Export’s work remained urgent amid contemporary political disputes surrounding gender, sexuality and censorship.“The female body is not a polite object,” Holzinger wrote in tribute. She described Export’s practice as a form of resistance directed against structures of social control and patriarchal power.

American artist Joan Jonas described Export as “bold, radical, innovative” and said her body-centred performances fundamentally altered how artists engaged with architecture, spectatorship and public confrontation.Jonas highlighted several key works from Export’s career, including Tapp-und-Tastkino, Genital Panic and Encirclement.

She also referenced Export’s reflections on Homo Meter II, in which the artist carried bread attached to her body in public spaces. Export described the work as an extension of the body and said audiences often reacted with uncertainty or discomfort.Jonas noted that Export frequently described the isolation involved in confronting audiences directly in public environments during the early years of feminist performance art.

South African artist Candice Breitz said Export demonstrated that artists did not need to conform to systems they opposed. Breitz characterised Export as a “feminist provocateur” whose work reclaimed public and institutional space historically dominated by men.

Breitz referred to a 1968 intervention in which Export led Austrian artist and curator Peter Weibel through the streets of Vienna on a leash. The performance has frequently been interpreted as a symbolic inversion of patriarchal authority and gender hierarchy within the European art world of the period.

Curator Shoair Mavlian emphasised Export’s importance to feminist photography and media criticism. Mavlian said photography was central to Export’s practice, particularly in the Body Configurations series, where the artist positioned her body against urban architecture in distorted or restrictive poses.

According to Mavlian, Export was among the first women artists to critically examine representations of women through photography and film while simultaneously using those media as tools of resistance. She referenced comments Export made during a 2024 exhibition at The Photographers’ Gallery, where the artist said feminist practitioners of the 1960s used the film camera “to see things with our own eyes, with our own thoughts.”

Export emerged in Austria during a period of growing experimental and political art movements in Europe. Her work combined performance, photography, film and conceptual art, frequently centring the body as a site of political struggle and social critique. Many of her best-known works challenged the passive representation of women in cinema, advertising and visual culture.

Her influence extended across generations of feminist artists, performers and theorists, particularly those examining surveillance, spectatorship, bodily autonomy and media representation. Scholars have frequently situated Export alongside artists such as Yoko Ono and other pioneers of postwar feminist performance art whose work reshaped institutional understandings of authorship, gender and participation.

The renewed attention following Export’s death has also prompted broader reflection on the legacy of radical feminist art movements that emerged in Europe and North America during the late 1960s and 1970s, many of which directly challenged prevailing attitudes toward sexuality, censorship and the visibility of women’s bodies.

Export’s works continue to be exhibited internationally and remain central to discussions of feminist conceptual art, experimental cinema and performance history.

The contemporary art exhibition, one of the world’s most influential cultural events, has been overshadowed by geopolitical tensions linked to ongoing conflicts and international human rights disputes, triggering demonstrations outside national pavilions and deep divisions within the global art community.

Organizers said visitors attending the exhibition at Venice’s Giardini and Arsenale venues would instead vote for their preferred national pavilion and featured participant in the central exhibition, titled “In Minor Keys,” replacing the traditional jury-selected awards system.

The jury said its resignation was tied specifically to the participation of countries currently facing investigations by the International Criminal Court over alleged human rights abuses. Critics of the move argued that the decision was selective and politically inconsistent, with some artists and activists saying the United States should also have been scrutinized under similar standards.

British-Indian sculptor and artist Anish Kapoor criticized what he described as “the politics of hate and war,” reflecting broader tensions that have increasingly influenced major international cultural institutions.The Biennale’s main exhibition, “In Minor Keys,” had already been shaped by tragedy before its opening following the death in 2025 of curator Koyo Kouoh, whose vision for the event centered on themes of memory, identity and political fracture.

This year’s exhibition features participation from around 100 national pavilions, including several countries using the platform to address war, migration, colonialism and displacement through large-scale installations and multimedia works.

The controversy surrounding Israel’s and Russia’s inclusion reflects wider cultural disputes that have intensified across Europe and North America since the outbreak of wars in Ukraine and Gaza, where artists, museums and festivals have increasingly faced pressure over institutional partnerships, state representation and political neutrality.

Organizers said the audience-voted awards would be announced on the exhibition’s closing day on Nov. 22.

The 2026 edition of the Venice Biennale has opened with a mix of controversy, political debate and large-scale experimental installations, as artists across Venice use performance, sound, sculpture and archival work to address themes ranging from war and surveillance to technology and public memory.

Spread across the Giardini, Arsenale and dozens of satellite venues, this year’s biennale has drawn attention not only for its official exhibitions but also for the reactions they have provoked from governments, visitors and even local police.Among the most discussed works is the Austrian pavilion by Florentina Holzinger, whose immersive performance installation transformed the national pavilion into a chaotic post-apocalyptic environment.

The performance opened with Holzinger suspended upside down from the clappers of a large bell while performers moved through the space naked. One woman repeatedly drove a speedboat in circles inside the pavilion, while others balanced high above visitors or remained submerged in water tanks.The installation also incorporated functioning toilets connected to a filtration system intended to purify visitors’ urine and redirect it into a large water tank.

Nearby sections of the exhibition appeared deliberately engineered to resemble flooding or sewage failure, creating an atmosphere of collapse and instability. During one viewing, police officers entered the pavilion to question the nature of the performance after complaints or confusion from attendees.

The Austrian pavilion quickly became one of the central talking points of the biennale’s opening week, reinforcing Holzinger’s reputation for physically extreme and confrontational live art.Elsewhere in Venice, painter Sanya Kantarovsky presented “Basic Failure” inside the historic Palazzo Loredan.

Kantarovsky, born in Moscow before emigrating to the United States as a child, filled the palazzo’s ornate interiors with psychologically tense paintings that resemble still frames from unresolved narratives.

The exhibition pairs unsettling domestic imagery with the grandeur of Venetian interiors lined with books and Murano glass chandeliers. The show culminates in a detailed Murano glass sculpture of a young boy’s head, creating what visitors described as a dialogue between contemporary anxiety and historical opulence.

Political tensions surrounding this year’s biennale were particularly visible in the case of South African artist Gabrielle Goliath. Goliath had originally been expected to participate officially before South African authorities blocked the presentation of her work “Elegy”, describing it as divisive because it referenced a Palestinian poet.Despite the decision, Goliath proceeded with an independent presentation at the Chiesa di Sant’Antonin in collaboration with arts organisation Ibraaz.

The performance features classically trained female vocalists sustaining single notes until their voices fade before being replaced by another performer.Originally conceived in 2015, the work functions as a ritual mourning piece dedicated to women killed through racialised and sexualised violence. Visitors described the installation as one of the most emotionally direct works outside the biennale’s central exhibition.

At the Arsenale, American artist Carrie Schneider contributed one of the most visually expansive works in the main exhibition “In Minor Keys.” Schneider’s installation stretches across approximately 1.5 kilometres of photographic material derived from repeated stills of La Jetée by Chris Marker.The scale of the installation stood out inside the industrial spaces of the Arsenale, where several works struggled to compete with the architecture’s vast dimensions.

Other notable contributions included photographic archives from Francophone Africa by Akinbode Akinbiyi and documentary material addressing destruction and displacement in Gaza.British-Algerian artist Lydia Ourahmane presented one of the quieter but widely praised exhibitions at the Nicoletta Fiorucci Foundation. Her project “5 Works” incorporates materials and labour drawn entirely from Venice itself.

The installation includes a newly constructed wooden pier intended for future public use, a curtain made of Murano glass beads assembled by inmates from the Giudecca women’s prison, and a modified church lighting mechanism activated through the insertion of a one-euro coin.Questions surrounding surveillance and state power appear prominently in “Canicula,” a film exhibition at the Complesso dell’Ospedaletto.

Lebanese-British artist Lawrence Abu Hamdan contributed “450XL: the Story of a Fugitive Sound,” an investigation into allegations that Serbian authorities used sonic devices to disperse peaceful anti-government demonstrators.Installed inside the former hospital’s historic music room, the work combines witness testimony, sound analysis and multi-screen projections arranged like protest placards.

The war in Ukraine also remains a major presence at the biennale. The Ukrainian pavilion features a large concrete deer sculpture by Zhanna Kadyrova that was transported from Pokrovsk in eastern Ukraine after difficult evacuation efforts during the conflict.Video footage documents the sculpture’s journey through Europe as refugees from Pokrovsk encounter the work in transit. Pokrovsk is now under Russian military control, giving the installation additional political and emotional weight.

Technology and artificial intelligence appear prominently inside the Chinese pavilion at the Arsenale, where artists explored the relationship between machines and creativity. Works include robotic calligraphy, digitally generated landscapes and interactive installations inspired by Chinese mythology and gaming culture.

One of the final installations in the pavilion is a field of “digital chairs” by Chinese designer Zhang Zhoujie, offering visitors a place to rest after navigating the biennale’s large-scale exhibitions.Away from official installations, one of the unexpected attractions of the opening week emerged outside the Polish pavilion, where a nesting gull drew crowds of confused visitors unsure whether the bird itself formed part of an artwork.

The gull, enclosed behind a temporary white fence, quickly became an informal symbol of the biennale’s blend of performance, ambiguity and public spectacle.

In May 2026, Puerto Rican artist Angel Otero is preparing to unveil a new body of work in Somerset, following his recent collaboration with global music figure Bad Bunny.

The exhibition, titled Agua Salada (Salt Water), reflects a shift toward more personal themes in Otero’s practice, drawing directly on memories of his childhood and family life in Puerto Rico.

Otero, 45, described his participation in Bad Bunny’s “La Casita” stage installation during the musician’s 31-show residency on the island as both a professional milestone and a personal moment of recognition. The set recreated a single-storey home typical of Puerto Rican and wider Latin American communities.

According to Otero, the environment closely resembled the domestic spaces that have long informed his work, reinforcing his focus on cultural memory and identity.Born in Santurce, a neighbourhood in San Juan, Otero spent much of his childhood in Bayamón with his grandmother, Maria Luisa.

He described his upbringing as shaped largely by female family members, with his mother working full-time and male relatives largely absent. The domestic interiors of that period, including furniture, decorative objects and photographs, have served as recurring motifs in his paintings for nearly two decades.

Otero’s artistic development began during his studies in Chicago, where he experimented with unconventional techniques to reinterpret traditional oil painting. He developed a process involving “paint skins,” in which layers of dried paint are formed on surfaces such as Perspex and later transferred to canvas.

This method produces textured, layered compositions that combine elements of painting, collage and sculpture. The approach, initially driven by resource constraints, became central to his visual language and has been widely associated with his work.The current exhibition marks a departure toward more explicit representation. Among the works is a large-scale diptych based on a photograph of Otero as a child with his grandmother.

The composition presents the figures from two perspectives, partially obscured by layered paint, creating a visual tension between clarity and fragmentation. According to Otero, this approach reflects the instability of memory and the passage of time.Themes of family, loss and personal transition are central to the exhibition.

Otero cited his evolving role as a father and the illness of his own father as influences on the new work. His grandmother, who played a significant role in his upbringing, died several years ago, and her presence continues to shape his artistic narrative. He described these experiences as “layers of life” that inform both subject matter and technique.

The exhibition also introduces recurring architectural elements, including doors and staircases, which Otero uses as symbolic devices. One painting depicts a door opening onto an undefined space, while a sculptural installation at Hauser & Wirth Somerset extends this motif into three dimensions.

These elements, according to the artist, relate to ideas of transition, access and personal boundaries.Water imagery is a dominant feature throughout the exhibition. The title Agua Salada references salt water as both a physical and metaphorical element, associated with the sea surrounding Puerto Rico as well as emotional states such as grief and resilience.

Otero described the motif as representing both erosion and healing, reflecting the dual nature of memory and time.Otero has been working in Somerset for several weeks, using a temporary studio to complete the exhibition. During this period, he engaged with the local community, noting similarities between social spaces in the area and those in San Juan.

He referenced time spent in local establishments as part of his process of situating the work within a broader context of place and belonging.The artist also described a personal ritual associated with completing a body of work. On the night before paintings are transported for exhibition, he spends time alone in the studio, often with music and wine, as a form of closure.

This practice, he said, allows him to reflect on the process and acknowledge the transition from private creation to public display.Otero indicated that the exhibition represents a point of alignment between his personal narrative and professional practice.

While earlier works approached identity indirectly through objects and interiors, the current series incorporates more direct references to his life experiences.He described this shift as part of an ongoing process of engaging with vulnerability within the context of the art world.

A concrete deer sculpture created for a public park in eastern Ukraine has become one of the central works of Ukraine’s national pavilion at the 2026 Venice Biennale, carrying with it the story of war, displacement and the destruction of cultural landscapes during Russia’s invasion.

The sculpture, created by Kyiv-based artist Zhanna Kadyrova, began its journey in Pokrovsk, a city in Ukraine’s Donetsk region that has since become engulfed by frontline fighting. Originally commissioned in 2018 as part of a public park regeneration project, the work was designed to replace a decommissioned Soviet Su-7 fighter-bomber that had stood on a plinth in the park as a military monument.

Kadyrova said the idea was to create something accessible and peaceful for residents rather than another symbol of force. The artist submerged most of the old plinth in soil and turf and placed the geometric deer on top, designed with sharp folded lines resembling origami.

Cast in concrete, the sculpture created a visual contrast between fragility and permanence.“It wasn’t something too conceptual,” Kadyrova said during the sculpture’s recent stop in Paris at the headquarters of UNESCO.

“I wanted to make something for local people that they would love, something understandable, something contemporary.”Over time, the deer became a recognized landmark in Pokrovsk, a city that had already been living under the shadow of conflict following the seizure of parts of Donetsk and Luhansk regions by Russian-backed separatists in 2014.

By mid-2024, however, Pokrovsk had moved closer to the center of active combat as Russia’s full-scale invasion intensified pressure across eastern Ukraine. According to Leonid Marushchak, a historian, educator and now co-curator of Ukraine’s pavilion in Venice, the city was rapidly emptying as artillery and drone attacks increased.

Marushchak was coordinating emergency evacuations of museum collections and cultural objects from frontline areas when he noticed the deer still standing in the park.“I saw the deer was still there and called Zhanna to ask if she agreed to evacuate it,” he said.

“The museum staff understood it had to be moved, but they had no practical way to do it.”Securing permission from local authorities proved difficult as civilian evacuation and military priorities dominated the city administration. Marushchak said he also proposed relocating a statue of Ukrainian composer Mykola Leontovych, known internationally for composing “Carol of the Bells,” to strengthen the case for action.

Permission was eventually granted. On Aug. 30, 2024, workers used angle grinders, drills, a crane and a flat-bed truck to detach the deer, which had been cast directly onto the structure, and move it out of the city.The removal was documented on film, which will also be shown at the Venice Biennale.

In interviews recorded during the evacuation, local residents described the park as one of the few remaining reminders of normal life before the war. Some residents preparing to leave permanently said they came to take final photographs of the site.At the time of writing, fighting continues around Pokrovsk, with large parts of the surrounding area heavily damaged.

Organizers of the Ukrainian pavilion say the sculpture may be one of the last surviving physical symbols of the city’s former public life.The Venice exhibition, titled Security Guarantees, uses the deer as its central image.

Curators say the title reflects the failure of international security assurances to prevent the destruction caused by Russia’s invasion and positions the sculpture as a metaphor for forced displacement.“We wanted to continue this journey as a metaphor, like so many Ukrainian refugees moving across Europe and the world,” Marushchak said.

Before arriving in Venice, the sculpture traveled by road through Warsaw, Prague, Vienna, Brussels and Paris. In each city, it was temporarily displayed in public spaces, often in prominent institutional or historic settings far removed from its original location in an industrial eastern Ukrainian town.

According to Kateryna Khimei, one of the public programme organizers accompanying the project, the deer has acquired new meaning for displaced residents from Pokrovsk and nearby communities.“The deer has become a symbol of hope and survival,” she said. “People come to touch it because it connects them to a place that no longer exists in the same way.”Khimei, whose own family left the region, said the sculpture now functions as a physical reference point for memory, especially as much of the city faces destruction.

“It’s important to speak not only about people who survived, but also about cultural objects that did not survive,” she said. “For many, this is the last surviving feature of their city.”The project arrives at a politically sensitive moment for the Biennale itself. This year, organizers invited Russia back to participate in its national pavilion after an absence since 2022. The decision has generated criticism in parts of the international art community and tension with Italian cultural officials.

Members of the Ukrainian team said they do not want their pavilion to be framed solely in opposition to Russia, but they argue that cultural representation cannot be separated from the wider consequences of the war.Ivanna Kozachenko, another curator of the public programme, said Russia’s return to the Biennale risks overshadowing broader discussions about cultural destruction in Ukraine.

“They destroyed so much cultural heritage in our country, in Syria and Chechnya, and now they are sending their culture to Venice,” she said. “Why should this happen?”In Paris, the deer was displayed beneath UNESCO’s flags with the Eiffel Tower visible behind it, a symbolic stop before its final transfer to Venice.

The timing was notable: Russia remains a UNESCO member state, while attacks on Ukrainian heritage sites continue. The day after the Paris event, a Russian drone strike hit central Lviv near the Bernardine monastery, part of the city’s UNESCO-listed historic center.At the Biennale, the deer will be installed near the entrance to the Giardini, the main exhibition grounds.

Rather than standing on solid ground, it will hang suspended from a crane, creating ambiguity over whether it is being placed into position or removed from it.For the curators, that uncertainty reflects the sculpture’s present condition: no longer belonging to the city it was built for, and not yet attached to any permanent future.

London — Street artist Banksy has confirmed that a newly installed sculpture in central London, depicting a man marching forward with his face entirely covered by a large flag, is his latest work, marking another rare public intervention by the elusive artist in the British capital.

The statue appeared overnight in Waterloo Place, Westminster, an area lined with official monuments and historic memorials near St James’s and close to government buildings and ceremonial landmarks. The work was first noticed on Wednesday, with Banksy’s signature scrawled at the base of the plinth, prompting immediate speculation over its authenticity.

Banksy confirmed authorship on Thursday through a post on Instagram, where he shared a video showing the sculpture being transported through London late at night before being installed at the site. The footage included images of nearby national symbols and landmarks, including the statue of former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, British flags, a Beefeater guard and a traditional black cab, suggesting a deliberate visual dialogue between the new work and established representations of British identity and state symbolism.

The sculpture itself shows a male figure stepping forward from a plinth while holding a large billowing flag that covers his entire face. The concealment of the subject’s identity appears central to the composition, contrasting with the traditional commemorative statues surrounding it, many of which celebrate named military, royal and political figures.In the video posted by Banksy, a passerby is asked for his opinion of the statue and replies, “No, I don’t like it,” a brief exchange that adds to the artist’s longstanding use of public reaction as part of the presentation of his work.

The statue has been placed in Waterloo Place, near monuments to Edward VII, Florence Nightingale and the Crimean War Memorial, an area known for its formal statuary and ceremonial significance. Its location places it within one of London’s most symbolically charged public spaces, where imperial memory and national commemoration dominate the landscape.

Banksy, whose identity remains officially unconfirmed, is best known internationally for politically charged graffiti works that appear without warning in public spaces and often address war, migration, inequality, surveillance and state power. While murals and stencil works remain his most recognisable form, he has previously installed sculptural works in London.One of his best-known earlier sculptures, “The Drinker,” was installed on Shaftesbury Avenue in London’s West End in 2004.

The work was a satirical reinterpretation of Auguste Rodin’s “The Thinker,” showing the figure slumped with a traffic cone placed on its head. It was removed shortly after installation. In 2019, Sotheby’s withdrew the sculpture from auction following concerns over its ownership and removal history.Banksy’s most recent confirmed London work before the Waterloo Place statue was a mural unveiled in December showing two children lying on their backs and looking upward.

The mural appeared near Centre Point Tower and was widely interpreted as referencing homelessness, with the tower long associated with Britain’s housing inequality and homelessness debates. The children in the mural appeared to be pointing toward the building, linking the artwork to wider concerns over urban displacement and housing insecurity.

Another work appeared in September outside the Royal Courts of Justice, where Banksy created a mural showing a judge using a gavel to strike a protester lying defenseless on the ground. The image emerged during a period of heightened arrests linked to demonstrations involving signs associated with the proscribed activist group Palestine Action. The mural was later removed.

Court authorities said they were legally required to preserve the listed character of the building and could not retain the artwork permanently.The new Westminster sculpture arrives as public interest in Banksy’s identity has again intensified following a recent Reuters investigation that reported the artist was likely Robin Gunningham, a Bristol-born figure who has long been suspected of being Banksy.

Reuters said its findings aligned with a similar investigation first published by the Mail on Sunday in 2008.Gunningham has denied being Banksy. According to Reuters, Banksy’s lawyer, Mark Stephens, said the artist “does not accept that many of the details contained within your inquiry are correct” and stressed that anonymity remained essential because Banksy had been “subjected to fixated, threatening and inappropriate behaviour.”The preservation of anonymity has long been central to both the artist’s legal protection and public mythology.

Banksy’s work frequently appears without official permission and often challenges institutions of power, making anonymity both a practical necessity and a core part of the artistic identity itself.The new sculpture’s use of a face hidden behind a national flag may also reinforce that theme, placing concealment, identity and public symbolism at the centre of the work.

Unlike conventional monuments that celebrate recognisable individuals, the Waterloo Place installation removes personal identity altogether, replacing portraiture with obscurity.Its proximity to Churchill’s statue is particularly notable. Churchill remains one of Britain’s most politically contested historical figures, and monuments associated with imperial history and nationalism have been the subject of repeated public debate in recent years.

By placing a faceless flag-bearer within this landscape, the work appears to invite reflection on patriotism, public memory and the politics of visibility.No official statement has been issued by Westminster authorities regarding the installation or whether it will remain permanently in place. As with many Banksy works, questions over ownership, preservation and removal are likely to follow.

Public artworks by Banksy often trigger disputes between local councils, private property owners and cultural institutions over conservation and commercial value. Several murals have been removed for protection or sale, while others have been destroyed or painted over.

For now, the Waterloo Place statue remains in place, attracting visitors and photographers in one of London’s busiest ceremonial districts. Its sudden appearance, followed by Banksy’s confirmation, has once again turned a section of the capital into an open-air site of interpretation, where the meaning of the work is shaped as much by public debate as by the sculpture itself.

A major new collaborative exhibition across regional galleries in Britain is bringing long-overdue attention to women artists whose contributions have often been overlooked in traditional museum collections dominated by male names.

Titled Making Her Mark, the project brings together works by some of the country’s most celebrated female artists, including Tracey Emin, Barbara Hepworth, Laura Knight, Elizabeth Forbes, and Gillian Ayres.

The initiative is being shared between Penlee House Gallery & Museum, galleries in Worcester, and Kirkcaldy, creating a rare regional partnership focused entirely on correcting historical imbalance in artistic representation.

For many smaller galleries across the UK, collections have traditionally reflected centuries of inequality in the art world, where male painters and sculptors were more likely to receive commissions, institutional support, and lasting recognition.

As a result, many museum walls still tell a largely male story.At Penlee House Gallery & Museum in Penzance, that reality is especially visible. Known for its strong representation of the Newlyn School and Cornish art history, much of its permanent collection features male artists whose work shaped the region’s artistic identity.

But from this week, visitors entering the gallery will be greeted by something strikingly different.Displayed prominently above a marble fireplace is a bold and emotionally charged work by Tracey Emin, challenging viewers with the raw personal intensity that has made her one of Britain’s most discussed contemporary artists.

In a nearby room hangs a vibrant work by Barbara Hepworth, whose abstract forms and modernist vision helped define 20th-century British art.Together, the works create a conversation across generations from early pioneers to contemporary voices highlighting not only artistic excellence but also the barriers women faced in gaining recognition.

The exhibition also features pieces by Laura Knight, one of the first women elected to full membership of the Royal Academy, and Elizabeth Forbes, often considered one of the leading figures of the Newlyn School despite being historically overshadowed by her male contemporaries.

Textile artist Imogen Bright Moon also contributes to the exhibition, with contemporary tapestry work that adds another dimension to the project’s exploration of female creativity and artistic identity.Curators say the goal is not simply to celebrate famous names, but to encourage visitors to reconsider how art history itself has been written.

For decades, women artists were frequently treated as exceptions rather than central figures. Their work was often categorized as secondary, domestic, or decorative rather than serious fine art. Even highly accomplished artists found themselves remembered mainly in relation to male partners, schools, or movements.Projects like Making Her Mark seek to shift that narrative.

Rather than presenting women artists as a special category separate from the mainstream, the exhibition argues that they have always been central to British art they were simply not always given equal visibility.This rebalancing is especially significant in regional galleries, where local collections shape public understanding of cultural history.

By placing women’s work at the centre of these spaces, the exhibition challenges long-standing assumptions about whose stories deserve prominence.It also reflects a wider movement across museums and cultural institutions to reassess collections, acquisitions, and curatorial practices through a more inclusive lens.

Across Britain and beyond, galleries are increasingly revisiting archives, reattributing forgotten works, and acquiring art by women and other historically underrepresented groups. The process is not only about fairness but also about revealing a fuller and more accurate picture of artistic history.

At Penlee House, the presence of a contemporary Tracey Emin alongside earlier artists such as Barbara Hepworth and Elizabeth Forbes shows how the conversation spans centuries rather than belonging to a single era.It also reminds visitors that progress remains unfinished.

Despite major advances, women artists still face unequal representation in exhibitions, collections, auction prices, and critical attention. Recognition has improved, but parity remains distant.That is why curators describe Making Her Mark not as a conclusion, but as part of a continuing discussion.

The title itself suggests both artistic creation and historical correction women making their mark on canvas, sculpture, and textiles, while also finally making their mark in the institutions that preserve cultural memory.

For visitors walking through the galleries, the exhibition offers something more than visual pleasure. It invites reflection on absence whose work was missing, whose voices were muted, and how different the walls of museums might look if history had been written differently.

By bringing these artists together, Making Her Mark offers a small but powerful act of restoration.It suggests that the question is no longer whether women belong at the centre of British art history, but why it took so long for the walls to show it.