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  • Cautious Dollar Position Still Paying Dividends for NSW T-Corp

    Cautious Dollar Position Still Paying Dividends for NSW T-Corp

    New South Wales Treasury Corp.’s move to slash dollar exposure has delivered gains, and the state-owned issuer is positioning for further greenback weakness.

    The Australian state’s investment-management unit shifted into defensive currencies such as the yen, franc and euro several years ago, cutting dollar weighting in its portfolio’s currency basket from almost three-quarters to 14%, Chief Investment Officer Stewart Brentnall said. The move lifted returns and the fund is now forecasting a further 10% slide in the dollar.

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  • New microbes found that do something life should not be able to do

    New microbes found that do something life should not be able to do

    Life doesn’t always play by the tidy rules in textbooks. Most organisms use oxygen to produce ATP, which is energy used by cells. Some life forms, especially microbes, tap other chemicals when oxygen is scarce. The usual explanation says it’s one mode or the other.

    A team studying a microbe from a Yellowstone hot spring found something different. This bacterium can use oxygen and sulfur at the same time to produce energy. That mixed strategy gives it an edge when oxygen levels fluctuate.


    Lisa Keller of Montana State University is the lead author of this research that describes her work with bacterial samples from a group called Aquificales.

    Along with her adviser and mentor Eric Boyd, professor in the College of Agriculture’s Department of Microbiology and Cell Biology, they published their fascinating work in the journal Nature Communications.

    Microbes that breathe oxygen and sulfur

    Respiration is how a cell converts food into usable energy (ATP). In oxygen-based respiration, cells move electrons through a chain of reactions and pass them to oxygen at the end.

    Anaerobic respiration does a similar job but transfers electrons to other acceptors, such as sulfur, nitrate, or iron. Both strategies work; they are just different.

    The hot-spring bacterium, Aquificales, challenged the usual either-or assumption. Under the right conditions, it kept both systems running.

    That meant that while the bacteria were producing sulfide – an anaerobic process – they were using oxygen, meaning that both metabolisms were occurring.

    “There’s no explanation other than that these cells are breathing oxygen at the same time that they are breathing elemental sulfur,” Keller said.

    Keller explained that the bacterium’s ability to conduct both processes at once challenges our understanding of how microbes survive, especially in dynamic, low-oxygen environments such as hot springs. 

    Oxygen and sulfur in hot springs

    Hot springs are tough places to live. Temperatures run high. Minerals dissolve into the water. Gases bubble in and out.

    Oxygen dissolves less in hot water than in cool water and escapes more easily, so levels change from moment to moment. In that kind of environment, a flexible energy strategy goes a long way.

    The bacterium in this study thrives at high temperatures and feeds on simple molecules, including hydrogen gas. It can use oxygen when it’s available and elemental sulfur when oxygen dips.

    How the study was done

    Keller and her team isolated the microbe, then grew it in the lab at high temperatures with three ingredients: hydrogen gas as the energy source, elemental sulfur, and oxygen. They then tracked the cells’ chemical reactions and which genes were switched on.

    Next, the team measured oxygen levels directly using gas chromatography. They also watched for the conversion of sulfur to sulfide, a clear sign of anaerobic sulfur respiration.

    Gene expression data aligned with the chemistry: enzymes for both oxygen use and sulfur processing were active simultaneously.

    Microbe’s oxygen-sulfur strategy

    Cultures given hydrogen, sulfur, and oxygen grew faster and reached higher cell counts than cultures that had to use only oxygen or only sulfur.

    That growth boost points to a simple payoff: more net energy when both pathways run together under low or unstable oxygen.

    One detail matters for interpreting the results. The sulfide produced doesn’t persist in a mixed setup. Oxygen and certain metal ions in the broth can quickly consume it.

    Without careful controls, that can hide the microbe’s dual strategy. This study accounted for that factor, which helps explain why this behavior may have been missed in past experiments.

    Widespread pattern in nature

    Genes and enzymes similar to those involved here are found in many microbes.

    That suggests this hybrid mode could be more common than we realized, especially in places where conditions shift minute to minute. Hot springs and deep-sea vents contain fuels and oxidants that rise and fall.

    Microbes that can keep multiple electron acceptors available may outgrow neighbors that wait for a single, ideal condition.

    Flexibility like this also fits the story of early Earth. Oxygen didn’t flood the oceans all at once. It rose in patchy, inconsistent ways.

    Microbes that could sense tiny amounts of oxygen while still relying on older, oxygen-free reactions likely had an advantage.

    The results of this study may explain how ancient lifeforms adapted to the progressive oxygenation of Earth that began around 2.8 billion years ago – the Great Oxidation Event.

    “This is really interesting, and it creates so many more questions,” Keller said. “We don’t know how widespread this is, but it opens the door for a lot of exploring.”

    The Yellowstone bacterium isn’t ancient, but it shows a strategy that would have made sense when oxygen first began to matter.

    How oxygen-sulfur combo works

    Oxygen sits at the top of the energy ladder because it accepts electrons strongly, which usually means more energy per unit of fuel.

    Sulfur compounds accept electrons too, though the energy yield is lower. When oxygen is scarce or fluctuating, using sulfur in parallel keeps the energy flowing rather than stalling.

    Temperature and chemistry help set the stage. High heat speeds reactions and lowers oxygen solubility. Hydrogen gas, common around hydrothermal systems, supplies a steady stream of electrons.

    Elemental sulfur is abundant in many volcanic and geothermal settings. Together, these conditions make simultaneous oxygen and sulfur respiration advantageous.

    Real-world implications

    Mixed respiration hints at new ways to run bioreactors and environmental cleanup efforts.

    If microbes can be encouraged to keep more than one pathway active, engineers may squeeze extra efficiency from waste-to-energy systems, or keep pollutant breakdown steady when oxygen supply is uneven.

    The same thinking applies to managing the sulfur and carbon cycles in complex settings where oxygen isn’t easy to control.

    The work also urges careful experimental design. Testing a microbe in a strict “oxygen-only” or “no-oxygen” setup can miss behaviors that only appear when both are present.

    Real environments rarely offer neat categories. Lab protocols that match those complex realities reveal strategies that would otherwise stay hidden.

    To sum it all up, this heat-loving bacterium, Aquificales, broadens how we think about life’s energy playbook. It’s messy, adaptive, and full of clever workarounds that let microbes, and maybe eventually us, survive in a changing world.

    The full study was published in the journal Nature Communications.

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  • Youth obesity reaches alarming levels, warns expert

    Youth obesity reaches alarming levels, warns expert


    ISLAMABAD:

    A medical expert sounded the alarm on the rapidly increasing obesity crisis, which is especially prevalent among the youth due to poor eating patterns, inactivity and excessive screen use.

    About 81 per cent of women and 74 per cent of men are now facing obesity and further related health consequences. Dr Zubala Yasir Lutfi highlighted the urgent need for immediate public action to combat the obesity crisis. She stressed the importance of parental counselling, urging parents to guide their children towards healthier habits early on to prevent obesity and its serious health consequences.

    Without strong awareness campaigns and community involvement, the nation risks facing a severe healthcare burden in the near future. “Obesity is not just a personal issue it is a public emergency that threatens the well-being of our entire society. We must prioritise education, promote active lifestyles and regulate unhealthy food marketing to protect our younger generation,” she urged.

    She warned that obesity is no longer a cosmetic issue but a medical emergency. “We are seeing diseases in teenagers that were once limited to adults. This must be addressed immediately”. Experts are urging parents, schools and communities to raise awareness, promote physical activity and reduce junk food consumption to prevent long-term health damage.

    There exists a direct connection between obesity and a range of serious health problems. Dr Lutfi explained that conditions such as weak bones, high blood pressure, heart disease and fatty liver are increasingly being seen in patients struggling with obesity.

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  • Nina Katchadourian: Origin Stories – The Brooklyn Rail

    Nina Katchadourian: Origin Stories – The Brooklyn Rail

    Origin Stories
    National Nordic Museum
    June 21–October 26, 2025
    Seattle, WA

    Nina Katchadourian’s Origin Stories threads through Seattle’s National Nordic Museum with five projects that explore family and memory, play and reenactment.

    If you’re a good museum visitor and do things in order (which is an extended joke and conflict in much of Katchadourian’s work), you first visit her 2021 epic To Feel Something That Was Not of Our World—epic on many levels. To enter it, you jump into the deep end of a deep blue and dense installation, as well as scan a QR code linking you to over two hours of audio that form the backbone of the project (well worth every second). The artist created the work during the pandemic in response to Survive the Savage Sea, a book written by Dougal Robertson, a farmer-cum-sailor who, along with his family, survived a 1972 killer whale attack that left them adrift in the Pacific for thirty-eight days. 

    The installation goes day-by-day with scale renderings of fish, turtles, and whales, small toys or fruit or candy, a cup of coffee, drawings, wire sculptures, and remakes of significant tools in the story. These are paired with wall texts listing relevant audio clips. The objects range from metaphorical (Lindt chocolates as fish eyeballs), to indexical (a scale map of Robertson’s salvational dinghy on the floor) to recreations of artifacts. The recreations are the funniest and would satisfy even the most photorealistic props master: during the journey, sea turtle oil turned out to be a cure-all, and Katchadourian remakes the sailors’ stash with sunflower oil in an exact replica of the original bottle.

    The room is strongly reminiscent of an exhibit in a children’s museum, and creates a similar inquisitive distance from a harrowing topic (any parent who’s seen a four-year-old learn about climate change in a cheery exhibition will recognize this strangeness). In contrast, listening to the seventy-one-track conversation is like bingeing perfect television. The artist’s conversation with Douglas Robertson is immersive and emotional; where the life-sized dorado drawing asks for curiosity, Robertson’s retelling of the tense minutes spent spearing it and watching it die asks for your soul.

    On her decades-long obsession with the story Katchadourian muses:

    There’s this kind of ceaseless invention—the problem solving with a lot at stake requires these creative solutions to things… I’ve thought about this with certain artistic projects of my own, that it takes a kind of optimism, I think, to look around the world and say, “You know what, there is something here, it’s not all a lost cause.”

    The Nordic Museum’s home in Ballard, a formerly working class, historically Scandinavian maritime neighborhood (now gentrified) connects neatly with both Nordic and sea-faring topics in the artist’s work. The artist’s Finland-Swedish maternal heritage is mentioned in the curatorial statement. And there is a melancholy and enduring homesickness in this part of Seattle that I feel Origin Stories honors. Behind the museum runs the Ship Canal, and a block away you can sail through the Ballard Locks to the cold waters of the Puget Sound. They’re scenic, but full of human trouble: there are sailboats and ferries of course, but also massive Chinese tankers, nuclear submarines, and the memories of all sailors and shipwrights who never made it back ashore. The curators point out that only a few blocks away, one can contemplate the monument to fishermen lost at sea.

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  • Chandra Peers Into A Supernova’s Troubled Heart

    Chandra Peers Into A Supernova’s Troubled Heart

    Around 11,300 years ago, a massive star teetered on the precipice of annihilation. It pulsed with energy as it expelled its outer layers, shedding the material into space. Eventually it exploded as a supernova, and its remnant is one of the most studied supernova remnants (SNR). It’s called Cassiopeia A (Cas A) and new observations with the Chandra X-ray telescope are revealing more details about its demise.

    Cas A’s progenitor star had between about 15 to 20 solar masses, though some estimates range as high as 30 solar masses. It was likely a red supergiant, though there’s debate about its nature and the path it followed to exploding as a supernova. Some astrophysicists think it may have been a Wolf-Rayet star.

    In any case, it eventually exploded as a core-collapse supernova. Once it built up an iron core, the star could no longer support itself and exploded. The light from Cas A’s demise reached Earth around the 1660s.

    There are no definitive records of observers seeing the supernova explosion in the sky, but astronomers have studied the Cas A SNR in great detail in modern times and across multiple wavelengths.

    This is a composite false colour image of Cassiopeia A. It contains data from the Hubble Space Telescope, the Spitzer Space Telescope, and the Chandra X-ray telescope. Image Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

    New research in The Astrophysical Journal explains Chandra’s new findings. It’s titled “Inhomogeneous Stellar Mixing in the Final Hours before the Cassiopeia A Supernova.” The lead author is Toshiki Sato of Meiji University in Japan.

    “It seems like each time we closely look at Chandra data of Cas A, we learn something new and exciting,” said lead author Sato in a press release. “Now we’ve taken that invaluable X-ray data, combined it with powerful computer models, and found something extraordinary.”

    One of the problems with studying supernovae is that their eventual explosions are what trigger our observations. A detailed understanding of the final moments before a supernova explodes is difficult to obtain. “In recent years, theorists have paid much attention to the final interior processes within massive stars, as they can be essential for revealing neutrino-driven supernova mechanisms and other potential transients of massive star collapse,” the authors write in their paper. “However, it is challenging to observe directly the last hours of a massive star before explosion, since it is the supernova event that triggers the start of intense observational study.”

    The lead up to the SN explosion of a massive star involves the nucleosynthesis of increasingly heavy elements deeper into its interior. The surface layer is hydrogen, then helium is next, then carbon and even heavier elements under the outer layers. Eventually, the star creates iron. But iron is a barrier to this process, because while lighter elements release energy when they fuse, iron requires more energy to undergo further fusion. The iron builds up in the core, and once the core reaches about 1.4 solar masses, there’s not enough outward pressure to prevent collapse. Gravity wins, the core collapses, and the star explodes.

    This high-definition image from NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope’s NIRCam (Near-Infrared Camera) unveils intricate details of supernova remnant Cassiopeia A (Cas A), and shows the expanding shell of material slamming into the gas shed by the star before it exploded. Image Credit: NASA, ESA, CSA, STScI, Danny Milisavljevic (Purdue University), Ilse De Looze (UGhent), Tea Temim (Princeton University) This high-definition image from NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope’s NIRCam (Near-Infrared Camera) unveils intricate details of supernova remnant Cassiopeia A (Cas A), and shows the expanding shell of material slamming into the gas shed by the star before it exploded. Image Credit: NASA, ESA, CSA, STScI, Danny Milisavljevic (Purdue University), Ilse De Looze (UGhent), Tea Temim (Princeton University)

    Chandra’s observations, combined with modelling, are giving astrophysicists a look inside the star during its final moments before collapse.

    “Our research shows that just before the star in Cas A collapsed, part of an inner layer with large amounts of silicon traveled outwards and broke into a neighboring layer with lots of neon,” said co-author Kai Matsunaga of Kyoto University in Japan. “This is a violent event where the barrier between these two layers disappears.”

    The results were two-fold. Silicon-rich material travelled outward, while neon-rich material travelled inward. This created inhomogeneous mixing of the elements, and small regions rich in silicon were found near small regions rich in neon.

    Inhomogeneous elemental distribution in Cas A observed by Chandra. The difference in the mixing ratio of blue and green colors clearly shows the different composition in the O-rich ejecta. The red, green, and blue include emission within energy bands of 6.54–6.92 keV (Fe Heα), 1.76–1.94 keV (Si Heα), and 0.60–0.85 keV (O lines), respectively. The ejecta highlighted in red and green are products of explosive nucleosynthesis, while the ejecta in blue and emerald green reflect stellar nucleosynthesis. The circles in the small panels are O-rich regions used for spectral analysis. The regions of high and low X-ray intensity in the Si band are indicated by the magenta and cyan circles, respectively. Image Credit: Toshiki Sato et al 2025 ApJ 990 103 Inhomogeneous elemental distribution in Cas A observed by Chandra. The difference in the mixing ratio of blue and green colors clearly shows the different composition in the O-rich ejecta. The red, green, and blue include emission within energy bands of 6.54–6.92 keV (Fe Heα), 1.76–1.94 keV (Si Heα), and 0.60–0.85 keV (O lines), respectively. The ejecta highlighted in red and green are products of explosive nucleosynthesis, while the ejecta in blue and emerald green reflect stellar nucleosynthesis. The circles in the small panels are O-rich regions used for spectral analysis. The regions of high and low X-ray intensity in the Si band are indicated by the magenta and cyan circles, respectively. Image Credit: Toshiki Sato et al 2025 ApJ 990 103

    This is part of what the researchers call a ‘shell merger’. They say it’s the final phase of stellar activity. It’s an intense burning where the oxygen burning shell swallows the outer Carbon and Neon burning shell deep inside the star’s interior. This happens only moments before the star explodes as a supernova. “In the violent convective layer created by the shell merger, Ne, which is abundant in the stellar O-rich layer, is burned as it is pulled inward, and Si, which is synthesized inside, is transported outward,” the authors explain in their research.

    This schematic shows the interior of a massive star in the process of a 'shell merger.' It shows both the downward plumes of Neon-rich material and the upward plumes of silicon-rich material. Image Credit: Toshiki Sato et al 2025 ApJ 990 103 This schematic shows the interior of a massive star in the process of a ‘shell merger.’ It shows both the downward plumes of Neon-rich material and the upward plumes of silicon-rich material. Image Credit: Toshiki Sato et al 2025 ApJ 990 103

    The intermingled silicon-rich and neon-rich regions are evidence of this process. The authors explain that the the silicon and neon did not mix with the other elements either immediately before or immediately after the explosion. Though astrophysical models have predicted this, it’s never been observed before. “Our results provide the first observational evidence that the final stellar burning process rapidly alters the internal structure, leaving a pre-supernova asymmetry,” the researchers explain in their paper.

    For decades, astrophysicists thought that SN explosions were symmetrical. Early observations supported the idea, and the basic idea behind core-collapse supernovae also supported symmetry. But this research changes the fundamental understanding of supernova explosions as asymmetrical. “The coexistence of compact ejecta regions in both the “O-/Ne-rich” and “O-/Si-rich” regimes implies that the merger did not fully homogenize the O-rich layer prior to collapse, leaving behind multiscale compositional inhomogeneities and asymmetric velocity fields,” the researchers write in their conclusion.

    This asymmetry can also explain how the neutron stars left behind get their acceleration kick and lead to high-velocity neutron stars.

    These final moments in a supernova’s life may also trigger the explosion itself, according to the authors. The turbulence created by the inner turmoil may have aided the star’s explosion.

    “Perhaps the most important effect of this change in the star’s structure is that it may have helped trigger the explosion itself,” said co-author Hiroyuki Uchida also of Kyoto University. “Such final internal activity of a star may change its fate—whether it will shine as a supernova or not.”

    “For a long time in the history of astronomy, it has been a dream to study the internal structure of stars,” the researchers write in their paper’s conclusion. This research has given astrophysicists a critical glimpse into a progenitor star’s final moments before explosion. “This moment not only has a significant impact on the fate of a star, but also creates a more asymmetric supernova explosion,” they conclude.

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  • Klara Lidén: Over out und above

    Klara Lidén: Over out und above

    Over out und above
    Kunsthalle Zürich
    June 14–September 7, 2025
    Zürich

    How can the artist, as a figure of solitude, be formulated collectively? What is the abstract form of a city archive, its metropolitan screen? How is lived experience subtracted to image? These questions arise as we enter, exit, and re-enter the most recent exhibition of Swedish artist Klara Lidén. Over out und above, curated by Fanny Hauser, is Lidén’s first institutional solo show in Switzerland, and a notable return to the Kunsthalle Zürich. In 2009, the artist took part in Non-Solo Show, Non-Group Show—a group show that staged her presence “Klara” as a solo figure in contrast to the other artists responding to her work.

    Over out und above sprawls across the large gallery rooms of the Kunsthalle, separating installations and projections into two chapters: a bright ground floor and dim upper floor. Gang Gang Gang (2025), three temporary passageways, appropriated as readymades, staggered one behind the other, dominate the first room in a gesture of blocking. Repetition emphasizes the symbolic barricade. This passive yet frontal gesture transforms the passageways (usually protecting pedestrians) into a field of vision, both in distance and into close contact with the beholder. From afar, silver-white screens on the outside of the passageways appear as the only intervention. They are reminiscent of posters, but the blankness of the screen—metonymy of placeholders and potentiality—is fixed with paint on wood. Lidén refuses to convey concrete messages, but manifests precisely that in the form of blankness. The interiors of the passageways, on the other hand, are marked by graffiti and stickers. Less blank than the screens on the outside, but nevertheless in correlation to them, the graffiti tags and stickers are opaque, illegible, torn off, neutralized, and thus provoke—not least in a sterile art complex such as the Löwenbräukunst, where Kunsthalle Zürich is located—an uneasiness in our forensically “studying” the outside city. The lack of information enforces an uncanny feeling in front of the appropriated city archive and its dubious formalization of a metropolitan language as such.

    With this in mind, Untitled (Thuk) (2024), a lightbox that again peels off stickers or covers them with a silver-grey spray paint into illegibility, almost resembles the Freudian Wunderblock, the “mystical writing pad”—a model for the impossible erasure of traces in the psyche. So too is Lidén’s Post-Minimalist practice of appropriation in terms of art historical remembering and forgetting. Lamp Post (Square Moon) (2025), a monumental lamp post, subtly alludes to Isa Genzken’s public sculpture Vollmond [Full moon] (1997). A distant memory in the Zürich show, soft as the fluorescent tube that only hardly lights its spacing.

    In contrast, on the upper floor, Lidén immerses sculptures and screens in a subdued atmosphere of the city at dawn. In the dim perception of massive block sculptures, Ring (Zomb) and Ring (Nuts) (both 2025), five-slide projections show pixelated images, in which we see the artist alone acting in different urban scenarios—similar to her video projections in Non-Solo Show, Non-Group Show.

    For the “Slideshow” series, the artist initially photographed her older video footage, then greatly enlarged the stills, printed them onto clear acetate, cut by hand, and finally mounted into slides. The effect is an ambivalent aesthetics, less reminiscent of, or rather in ironic detachment from, the photoengraving techniques of Roy Lichtenstein and Andy Warhol, and much closer to the texture of the caressing pointillist drawings of Georges Seurat. Both Seurat and Lidén isolate the subject in public and show their absorbed action in profile. This draws the beholder into latent, introversive daydreaming about their actions, motivations, and thoughts. Lidén’s pedestrian body, however, also resists the repetition of the flaneur figure and rather works on a portrait of the early-twenty-first-century artist in its political antagonisms. It is this performative activation that, finally, gives a legibility to the work. The artist-performer acts as the figure of an anarchic protest outside or against goal-oriented economies. As such, the artist is acting often in a slightly slapstick, comical posture.

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  • ChatGPT Will Get Parental Controls and New Safety Features, OpenAI Says – The New York Times

    1. ChatGPT Will Get Parental Controls and New Safety Features, OpenAI Says  The New York Times
    2. ChatGPT to tell parents when their child is in ‘acute distress’  BBC
    3. A Teen Was Suicidal. ChatGPT Was the Friend He Confided In.  The New York Times
    4. The family of teenager who died by suicide alleges OpenAI’s ChatGPT is to blame  NBC News
    5. OpenAI to route sensitive conversations to GPT-5, introduce parental controls  TechCrunch

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  • Andy Goldsworthy: Fifty Years – The Brooklyn Rail

    Andy Goldsworthy: Fifty Years – The Brooklyn Rail

    Fifty Years
    Royal Scottish Academy
    July 26–November 2, 2025
    Edinburgh, UK

    The cover of the catalogue to Andy Goldsworthy’s grand exhibition in Edinburgh shows a still from a nearly ten-minute long film titled Red river rock. Dumfriesshire, Scotland, 19 August 2016. The artist’s arms and hands are visible at top right, rubbing a partly submerged river stone with earth containing iron ore. The flowing Scaur Water picks up the material and over the course of the film becomes saturated with billowing clouds of scarlet. Undertaking a Sisyphean task, Goldsworthy continues to apply red to the rock as the water washes his ministrations away. The key themes of this show are thus established: the authority of the artist’s hands, through which all his creations take shape; the importance of Scotland to his practice, in particular Dumfries and Galloway, where he has lived for four decades and where he has raised his five children; and the predominance of red in his oeuvre, a color whose signification stretches far and wide in mineralogy, biology, and as a hue communicating alert.

    The emphasis on the hand institutionally dates back to an important catalogue of his sculpture titled Hand to Earth, from the Henry Moore Sculpture Centre (now the Henry Moore Institute) in Leeds (1990), remarkably the last time the artist had anything approaching a museum retrospective. More than any other practitioner’s, the entirety of Goldsworthy’s art is based on a haptic feel for materials, for their possibilities of manipulation in concert with their natural qualities and the context of the artwork’s setting. But what this show also reveals is his heart—his commitment to his idiosyncratic practice, yes, but also the appreciation this artist born in Cheshire, England, feels for his adoptive land of Scotland.

    Full disclosure: Goldsworthy and I worked together for over five years on an exhibition of his work to be held at the Yale Center for British Art in 2024. Disappointingly, this was canceled in early COVID. The concept was a complete retrospective and generational positioning of the artist to cement him as one of the most important and broad-ranging sculptors of the past century, while also including works made by the artist on site and installations in the galleries of works from the permanent collection to his specifications. That is in no sense the premise of this exhibition by the National Galleries of Scotland in Edinburgh, which is largely comprised of spectacular new works made by the artist this year and installed on the first floor of William Henry Playfair’s Neo-Doric temple of art on The Mound, home of the Royal Scottish Academy (RSA). These are interspersed with smaller galleries containing recent projects. In the basement level are four modest rooms that present videos, photographs, and ephemera drawn from the artist’s collection assembled over the course of his fifty years of art practice.

    The new and temporary works in the soaring first-floor galleries are the product of considerable planning and thought. The strongest pieces represent a kind of institutional critique, not of the National Galleries of Scotland, but rather of the idea of trying to contain the work of an artist whose whole career has been performed outside. The best comparison is to see Goldsworthy as the inverse of Bruce Nauman, who famously considers everything he does in the studio his artwork. Here, the artist’s theaters of operation are the fields, glens, and hills within walking distance of his home, where he makes what he terms “ephemeral works,” documented through video and photographs, and the various domestic and international settings where he has made what he calls “projects,” usually of a more permanent nature (with ephemeral works along the way).

    At the entrance of the RSA, a strip of wool collected in fields rises along the center of the stair that takes you up to the premier étage. Wool Runner (2025) bears sparkles of color, remnants of the markings made by the farmers to distinguish their herds and maternal states of the ewes. It is like a welcome mat of whipped tutti frutti ice cream that entices you up the exposed sides of the staircase. But when you hit the landing, you are confronted by the artist’s sense of humor and a more grim purpose. In Fence (2025), the two central Doric columns of this elevated pronaos have been wrapped in rusted and degraded barbed wire that stretches across the space, barring entry and occluding vision of the cella beyond. Also gleaned from Dumfriesshire fields—and like wool, a frequent material in Goldsworthy’s ephemeral work—the barbed wire threatens both laceration and tetanus in equal measure, but the way it is wound around and between the two columns like a text-bearing Torah scroll, and the rigid horizontality of its installation, is very beautiful. At the left and right ends of this upper entry hall hang two large “Sheep Paintings” (2025): canvases that were laid in a field with a round mineral feed block placed in the middle. As the sheep move in to munch, whatever they track across the fibers—mud, shit, spittle—becomes the material of the painting. When the ruminants depart, the block is removed, and the “painting” is complete. Nature is Goldsworthy’s collaborator.

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  • Kim Chong Hak, Painter of Seoraksan

    Kim Chong Hak, Painter of Seoraksan

    Kim Chong Hak, Painter of Seoraksan
    High Museum of Art
    April 11–November 2, 2025
    Atlanta, GA

    Mountains are the first museums, I often remind my students, and not just because mountaineering and museum-going affect similar fatigues on the body. The oldest artworks are found in mountainous caverns across the world, from Indonesia and the Iberian Peninsula to the Andes and the Pacific Northwest. These prehistoric sites demonstrate the capacity of mountains to hold memory, to keepsake and preserve, often through isolation. Little wonder artists from Alexandre Calame to Katsushika Hokusai have made mountains so central to their work. Little wonder art so often returns to the mountain in times of unrest, even today.

    Kim Chong Hak, Painter of Seoraksan, the contemporary Korean artist’s first US museum survey on view at the High Museum of Art, returns once again to the mountains—specifically, Mount Seorak, the titular Seoraksan and largest peak of the Taebaek Mountain range that runs along the eastern coast of the Korean Peninsula. Kim, whose family was displaced from the north during the Korean War, studied art and lived abroad before settling on Seoraksan in 1979, making its diverse climate his primary subject. Since then, the artist, who continues to paint, has produced a body of work both movingly quiescent and surprisingly boisterous. His most famous works consist of large-format landscapes dotted with forest flowers and meandering kudzu; for instance, the four-panel Pandemonium (2018)—which fills the museum’s walls until it wraps around the corner—is a lesson the artist takes directly from the mountains, their forests curving up to the verticality of the peak, surrounding the viewer.

    The show opens with Kim’s earliest works, largely abstract pieces following various trends of the early-1970s, from Dansaekhwa to Post-Minimalism. An untitled 1978 work draws together informal and abstract tendencies, while its surface hints at older inkwork techniques. (The influence of traditional and folk arts, another theme of the exhibition, is explored through a collection of objects installed throughout the show.) Rather than follow a chronology, the exhibition chooses to bivouac back and forth across Kim’s mature works, marshalling them into interconnected sections devoted to the seasons. Such an organizing principle emerges organically from the works themselves; as the artist puts it in the catalogue for the show, “I spend all four seasons with the mountain, drawing spring in spring, summer in summer, autumn in autumn, and winter in winter.” The choice to take this process so seriously and make it the structural core of the show is laudable, perhaps in part because it reveals what is always true: no two springs, two summers, or two autumns are ever alike. The subtlest variations between days, weeks, and years give Kim’s work its most felicitous edge.

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  • Ash Eliza Williams: The Dreams of Small Animals

    Ash Eliza Williams: The Dreams of Small Animals

    The Dreams of Small Animals
    ArtYard
    June 21–October 5, 2025
    Frenchtown, NJ

    Can we learn to perceive as other beings do? Can we even learn to perceive other beings at all—not as objects of knowledge, but emissaries of worlds beyond our grasp? In The Dreams of Small Animals, Ash Eliza Williams probes metaphysical boundaries in paintings that channel the sensory perceptions of flowers, frogs, bugs, and birds. Williams uses multi-panel compositions that recall the sequential logic of a storyboard, but rather than translating the nonhuman into a legible narrative, they render their subjects more mystical in works where the boundaries between subject and environment become porous, vibrational.

    The erotic The Dreams of a Dandelion (2024) is an eighty-three-panel sequence filled with ambiguous clefts, hairy mounds, and proboscises entering slits, realized in a citric orange that makes you salivate a little. The painting reminds you that a flower is a genital organ—its pollination a multispecies coitus—and effectively suggests an organism that does not perceive by seeing, but by touching. And yet, eyes make a distinctive appearance here, as exaggerated pictograms on the wings of descending butterflies. Many lepidopterans have developed striking eye-like spots, but a flower cannot “see” them—or can it? Perhaps it feels the touch of their gaze. Williams’s work does not approximate the physical sensorium of a dandelion as much as it speaks to perception itself as a super-sensory and spectral realm of encounter.

    Have you ever stared at a bug and felt it looking back? Most arthropods have sophisticated sight, and the misconception that their compound eyes provide a “low-resolution” optical system says more about the limits of human perception, with its fixation upon the image. Our own eyes are essentially a stereoscopic camera, but an arthropod perceives space, light, and motion in ways we cannot fathom. Dragonflies are thought to process up to ten times more visual information, encompassing colors and wavelengths that are invisible to humans. Bees see ultraviolet light, and use it to read a hidden language of flowers.

    Williams’s exhibition provokes unique speculations on how perception is limited by our body schema, anatomically engrained and culturally reinforced. Human cosmologies have often gravitated toward four-fold scales of space and time: four directions, four elements, four seasons. As animals with four limbs, quadruple poetics may feel most comfortable to us. How would we perceive the manifold poetry of a creature with fifteen pairs of legs, like a house centipede, whose very presence makes many humans uncomfortable?

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