The era of perfect connection and algorithmic efficiency has given rise to an art form that celebrates collapse: the glitch.

We walk into exhibitions expecting to admire “beauty.” We long for perfect lines, harmonious colors, and subjects that reassure us.

Da generazioni ci hanno insegnato a guardare l’arte come un verdetto impeccabile: un oggetto perfetto, chiuso, nato da un genio che non conosce esitazione.

It’s the time suspended between seasons — the calm before choices, the silence before a new beginning.

Pop Art, short for Popular Art, was not just an aesthetic movement but a real cultural phenomenon that changed the way we look at modern art.

The song that kept echoing in my head while reading Mantide, the literary debut of Cecilia Rita published by NN Editore, was David by Lorde.

At its deepest core, art is far more than a manifestation of beauty — it is a language of the soul, a form of balance, a silent cure for the mind.

Three words that, through Veronica Raimo’s pen, become an emotional minefield.

I wonder what the difference is between seeing works of art and living them. If a difference even exists. Art is not something you look at: it is something you undergo. It cuts through you. It unsettles you.

IN THOSE PRIMORDIAL FORMS, ART WAS SURVIVAL: A RAW GESTURE TO WITHSTAND THE OUTSIDE WORLD AND BOND WITH IT.

The 82nd Venice International Film Festival has come to an end, leaving behind unforgettable films, memorable red carpet moments, and a fashion debut that set social media on fire.

From Made in Italy to the MoMA’s game changers, passing through sustainability, materials, and everyday rituals: a year of design to experience across Milan, New York, London, and beyond.

Between Magic, Rain, and Distorted Realities: The Big Movies of Next Fall-Winter

A brand-new section is on its way.