Why do we feel the compulsion to photograph or film everything that we deem important? Technology has amplified this impulse but what if we didn’t view the world through our phone screens? Studies suggest that keeping them in our pockets is a more considered way of making memories.

Maybe Kate Moss had drunk a little too much. Perhaps her high-heeled shoes got tangled up in the deep-pile carpet. In any case, the way that she walked into the Ritz in Paris one evening in autumn 2024 was less elegant than usual. Not that many were there to pass judgement. One keen observer, however, recorded the scene and posted the video on social media, giving it the title “The moment Kate Moss comes back totally drunk from a fashion show”.

There are a lot of such “moments” out there on Youtube, Tiktok and Instagram. But videos in the same style are also being shared every day in the tabloid media: the moment when a car falls off a bridge, the floodwaters rush into Valencia or a spoilt child destroys half of a Walmart supermarket.

What tends to get a little lost in discussions about all of this is why there are so many of these photos and videos in the first place. Is it simply that people were filming when something happened? Or perhaps it’s that modern, hyperactive phone users pull out their phones as soon as something exciting or unusual takes place. Like cowboys of the past who always had their gun at the ready, they instinctively pick up their device and pull the trigger, many at only the slightest provocation. Even the movement from the hip is similar: men quickly reach into their trouser pockets while women often carry their smartphones on a chain on their side like a holster so that they always have it close to hand.

More than 95 million images and videos are uploaded to Instagram every day. The number of images that never see the light of day but are taken for private purposes is likely to run into billions. Check how many you have in your own photo gallery: it is not uncommon for the total to be in the mid-five figures. Dozens of blurry concert shots, hundreds of incredibly exciting scenes from the school football match, countless pictures of food on plates – which of these would have made it into a physical photo album of the past?

One could argue that people are trying to capture the fleeting nature of life, for themselves, for their contemporaries and for posterity. After all, didn’t even our ancestors in the Stone Age leave hunting scenes scrawled on rock faces? Perhaps the impulse to capture moments has always been there. And every new medium, from drawing and writing to photography and film, has dramatically increased this tendency. In the 1980s technology-loving parents seemed to be constantly on their children’s heels with a camcorder. With the smartphone, everyone now has the ultimate recording tool in their hands.

“Every picture not taken is a moment spent being present”

Some children must have the same strange experience in their first years of life as pop stars do at concerts: they are constantly looking into a sea of camera lenses, as if the smartphone were some kind of front-end visual apparatus. If this sight had been staged in a science-fiction film 50 years ago, people would have probably shaken their heads at how stupid it looks.

If you ask anthropologists about the origin of the revolver-like “cell-phone reflex”, they will tell you that it’s less about a love of documenting things than about the human urge to “locate oneself”. At least that’s how Nicholas J Conard from the University of Tübingen puts it. “People used to carve their initials or the words ‘I was here’ into trees and park benches,” he says. “Today they take a selfie.” It’s a bit like dogs marking their territory.

In the past, postcards were used not only to send greetings, missives about the temperatures and culinary discoveries to those at home but also to call out to them, “Look where we are!” Tour guides report that nowadays younger tourists “shoot” sights with their cameras and then immediately want to move on.

In everyday life digital pins are placed and photographs are taken, as though people want to constantly reassure themselves of their own existence and, of course, excellence. The sexy, sleepy look in the mirror in the morning, the first coffee, the outfit of the day, the menu when going out – if it isn’t recorded, did it even happen?

In 2012, The Atlantic magazine published an article headlined “The Facebook Eye”. The author warned that the digital reward system of attention and likes meant that we were in danger of only focusing on potential posts. As a result, our brains would automatically check everything we experienced to see if it could be used.

Thirteen years and a few platforms later, this fear has not only been proven to have been well founded but the phenomenon has also exceeded our wildest expectations. There are influencers who stage and monetise their lives. But everyone else who posts something on social networks has also become a sort of entrepreneur, flogging mundane elements of their everyday lives, which they serve up to the attention economy. Those who experience the best, funniest, craziest things get the most approval. You just have to press the shutter at the right moment.

“The more we try to capture a moment, the more fleeting it becomes”

The shooting frenzy has a certain added value. While in the past there was hardly any direct documentation of exceptional events, today photos and videos almost always appear. In the attack at Ariana Grande’s 2017 concert in Manchester, the police were able to reconstruct the course of events primarily based on private recordings. If, in May 2020, 17-year-old passer-by Darnella Frazier had not filmed how a police officer blocked George Floyd’s airway with his knee as he lay on the ground, the perpetrator would probably never have been convicted. Conversely, hordes of such amateur reporters are increasingly blocking access for rescue workers at crime scenes. The first instinct is no longer to help but to pull out your mobile phone.

It’s not the person who isn’t filming who is missing out on anything. On the contrary: studies suggest that it’s harder to remember special moments in your life if you’re taking photos or making videos while you’re doing it. And not just because you’re less attentive but because your brain knows that you could watch it all again later. That’s why it doesn’t really “store” these moments in the first place. Researchers at Yale University also came to the conclusion that, to a certain extent, holding a screen in front of you emotionally disconnects you from what you’re seeing and the moment is experienced much less intensely. Instead of being the protagonist of your own life, you become a disinterested observer. No amount of recording, no matter how good, can change that later on and you’ll probably never watch most of it anyway.

In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, German philosopher Walter Benjamin put forward the thesis that an object loses its aura when it is no longer experienced directly in its original context. The same argument can be applied to personal experiences: the fashion show doesn’t feel nearly as glamorous on video. The crocodile that suddenly swam through the river in Australia doesn’t send a shiver down your spine afterwards. The child’s amazement at its first steps can be watched a hundred times but never experienced in the same way again.

The more that we try to capture a moment the more fleeting it becomes. All recordings of it seem empty. Not to mention the time that goes into it. You don’t just take one picture but several. Then you edit, process and publish it.

Because modern smartphone users love taking part in challenges that they are then asked to record and share via video, here is a challenge for the coming weeks. Let’s call it “Let it go!” It’s about not posting anything, not recording anything or taking photos – just watching the children’s sledding race, enjoying a meal with your loved ones phone-free and not singing along to your favourite band’s performance while clutching your device.

Let’s be honest: nobody is really interested in other people’s concert clips. Even “likes” for plates of oysters or cheese fondue videos are at best friendly handouts. Every picture not taken is a moment spent being present. In return, it might stay on that other, human hard drive for a little longer.

In European diplomacy, few jobs are more demanding than the post of Serbia’s foreign minister. Its holder must manage relations with several neighbours that the nation has fought against in recent history, one of which – Kosovo – it refuses to recognise as a sovereign state. For related reasons, Serbia looms in the Western imagination as somehow not quite one of us. The Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, of which it was a part until 2003, was the only European country to have engaged in a hot war with Nato. Meanwhile, Belgrade maintains obstinately friendly relations with Russia.

Throughout his career, Marko Djuric, Serbia’s 41-year-old foreign minister, has had to deal with such challenges. Before being appointed to his current position last May, he spent more than three years in Washington as Serbia’s ambassador to the US. Before that, he was the director of Serbia’s Office for Kosovo and Metohija, which oversees the country’s turbulent relations with its reluctant former constituent. On one visit to Kosovo in 2018, Djuric was unceremoniously arrested and deported after local authorities claimed that he had entered without permission.

Prior to that, he was a foreign-policy advisor to Serbia’s then president, Tomislav Nikolic. Unlike the current president, Aleksandar Vucic, who served as minister of information under Slobodan Milosevic, Djuric has no ties to the regime culpable for the wars that destroyed Yugoslavia during the 1990s. Quite the opposite: as a teenager, he was active in the Otpor! (“Resistance!”) movement, which was crucial to the overthrow of Milosevic in October 2000.

Serbia is now convulsed by remarkably similar-looking demonstrations. In November the collapse of a concrete canopy at Novi Sad train station killed 15 people. There have since been huge and recurring protests. Serbia’s government has seemed uncertain how to respond. The prime minister, Milos Vucevic, resigned in January – but his deputy, Aleksandar Vulin, has suggested that the protests are being stoked by Western intelligence agencies, an echo of the Milosevic-era complaint about Otpor! In a corner office at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Belgrade, an aide tidies away a “Make America Great Again” cap before Monocle sits down with Djuric to discuss the current protests, Milosevic, Ukraine, Donald Trump and more.

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What drew you to politics?
My grandfather was involved in Yugoslav politics and my great-grandfather’s brother [Nikola Pasic, former prime minister of both Serbia and Yugoslavia] was too. So it was natural for me to be interested. Growing up in Belgrade in the 1990s, you couldn’t escape what was going on. I was born in the capital of a country of 23.5 million people, covering more than 255,000 sq km. Then it became smaller and smaller, until it was the capital of a country of about seven million people.

As a teenage rebel, did you imagine that you would be sitting where you are now?
I certainly didn’t. But we had big dreams for our nation. Those years were a crucial moment in Serbian history. We were able to introduce serious democratic reforms after a difficult decade in which we not only lost our reputation but suffered tremendous losses – in terms of territory, people and the economy. It all went very wrong during the 1990s. But on 5 October 2000 [when protests forced Milosevic to resign], the people said, in a loud, clear voice, “We do not accept the direction that the regime is taking us and want to belong to a different type of community of nations.”

Do the current protests in Serbia remind you of Otpor! at all?
Apart from the fact that both are protests, I can’t say that I see any other similarity. The protests of 2000 were the culmination of a nationwide struggle for democracy. They were driven by our desire to free our country from a regime that had isolated us from the international community and to build a bright future in a new, democratic society – which is what we have today. 

Today’s protests originated as a public expression of grief over the tragic incident in Novi Sad; this was coupled with calls for accountability. So the context is quite different. Centred on four key student demands, these protests have brought issues such as upholding the rule of law, fighting corruption and strengthening our institutions into our focus. The government has addressed these concerns within a democratic framework and has fulfilled the students’ demands.

Which aspect of Serbia’s foreign policy are you prioritising?
We need to break free from the paradigm that we inherited from the 1990s and resolve our political problems. These include our difficult relations with some of our immediate neighbours and the relationship between Belgrade and Pristina. It’s the only way for us to turn the Balkans into one of Europe’s engines of economic growth, which I believe is possible. For us to be even more successful, we have to create a friendly environment for Serbia. As foreign minister, I view this as my primary task: to make new friends for my country and ask people across Europe and beyond to take a fresh look at us.

Do your neighbours still have fears and suspicions about Serbia because of what happened in the 1990s?
Yes. The break-up of Yugoslavia didn’t unfold like Czechoslovakia’s. There are still many families suffering as a result of those wars, as well as unresolved issues, including missing persons. It’s our duty to establish, where they do not exist, working groups to tackle these things. But we need two tracks: one for resolving those issues and closing open wounds, and the other for looking towards the future. We have to forge better connections between our countries. We have hard borders in our region that divide communities and families, and prevent business. Think of the number of hours that trucks spend a year on the borders between Serbia and Montenegro, Serbia and Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Serbia and Croatia: it probably adds up to thousands of years.

“No rational Serbian politician would support any policy that would involve attempts to forcefully change borders”

Do you still need to reassure your neighbours that Serbia is happy with where its borders are now?
A quarter of a century ago, Serbs renounced a regime that was involved in very wrong-headed attempts to amend regional borders and we were burned by this. No rational Serbian politician would support any policy that would involve attempts to forcefully change borders.

Does this thinking apply to Kosovo?
Our relationship with Kosovo is very specific. It unilaterally declared independence in 2008, almost a decade after the war in 1999, in which Serbia also suffered greatly.

The ruins across the street are of the Yugoslav Ministry of Defence building, aren’t they?
Yes. Nato bombed it in 1999. But just a year later, Serbs embraced and elected a pro-EU, pro-Nato government. Then, in 2008, Kosovo unilaterally declared independence without the participation of Kosovo’s Serbs. It was completely outside the Constitution of Serbia and outside the scope of the UN Security Council Resolution 1244, which ended the hostilities in 1999. The resolution stipulated that Kosovo should be an autonomous province within Serbia, with the highest degree of autonomy to be determined through negotiation. This not only resulted in a new political problem in our region but also created political openings in Serbia for various malign influences.

If you ask Kosovo’s current government what it wants – and I’ve interviewed its prime minister, Albin Kurti, several times – the answer is simple. Kosovo wants to be a country like any other. Does Serbia have a preferred end point now?
We’re working hard to change the relationship between Serbs and Albanians. Relations between Serbia and Albania have helped a lot in recent years. With Albania and North Macedonia, we created a single labour market that has been in effect since March 2024. It shows that things can be different. Last summer about 118,000 Serbs spent their holidays on the shores of Albania. It’s no longer a conflict between Serbs and Albanians.

But what would a settlement look like?
We need a pragmatic solution that will be a win-win for both Serbs and Albanians in Kosovo. Serbs are the majority in 10 out of 38 municipalities in Kosovo. That’s what remains of the Serbian community, which has suffered very greatly, just as Albanians have. We need a compromise that will address the questions of status and territory in a way that won’t leave either side entirely frustrated. We’re not setting any red lines as to what the final outcome of the arrangement might be.

Has there ever been any talk along the lines of: just let Kosovo go and President Vucic and Prime Minister Kurti can share a Nobel Peace Prize?
We’re not in the business of doing things that are personally profitable. For Serbs, Kosovo and Metohija aren’t just about territory. There are four Unesco World Heritage sites of the Serbian Orthodox Church [in Kosovo], which, by the way, has been around since 1219. For Serbs, it’s like a spiritual cradle. Many of our medieval kings and queens ended their lives as monks in the monasteries that they built in Kosovo. So it’s complex. It’s something that deeply touches the emotions of every Serbian.

Serbia has been an EU candidate since 2012. Your office is decorated with the bloc’s flag, as well as the Serbian one. Are you still serious about joining it?
It’s a key priority. By 2027, Serbia will fully complete all of the reforms required for membership. Even now, Serbia is doing far better economically than many countries that are already members. Our debt-to-gdp ratio is 46 per cent, while the Eurozone average is more than 90 per cent. The IMF has projected that we’ll have a growth rate of 4.1 per cent this year. The Eurozone’s projected growth rate is 0.7 per cent. Serbia can contribute a lot to Europe – not just in terms of the economy but also when it comes to culture and our geopolitical position. We are at the crossroads of civilisations. We are in the middle of southeastern Europe and have a vast network of connections and friendships with countries just beyond our region.

What is your position on Russia and Ukraine? Serbia has declined to participate in sanctions against Russia. But you’ve sold Ukraine a lot of ammunition – at least, through third parties. Whose side are you on?
Serbia has a clear position of unambiguous support for Ukraine’s integrity and sovereignty in the entire territory of the country – including Donbas, including Crimea. My first guest here after I was appointed to this role was Ukraine’s former foreign minister Dmytro Kuleba. Since then we have also met its current foreign minister, Andrii Sybiha. Serbia has consistently voted in the UN and in the OECD to support Ukraine’s territorial integrity and condemn any actions that undermine this. I should also mention that Ukraine supports Serbia’s territorial integrity in the question of Kosovo and Metohija. However, our relationship with Russia is somewhat different, both historically and currently, than with some other European countries.

Why is that?
We have some interests – including the question of Kosovo and Metohija – for which the Russian Federation provides support at the UN Security Council, alongside the People’s Republic of China. Sometimes, people have used this specific situation to criticise Serbia. It’s easy not to look under the surface and come to the conclusion that there’s something more to our relationship with Moscow. I’ve read conspiracy theories linking Serbia to Russia in ways that would mean that we ostensibly support what it is doing in Ukraine. But we aren’t supporting that war in any way.

Could Serbia be an interlocutor? Have you had any direct contact with Russia since taking this job?
I haven’t met my Russian counterpart and haven’t been to Moscow yet. I can say that we have been approached by various actors internationally with ideas to act as intermediaries. But, for the time being, we are doing everything we can to help with the humanitarian needs of the people of Ukraine, and we are focusing on maintaining our position and our interests, because this is not simple in the current circumstances, as you can imagine.

“The Balkans can’t be Europe’s blind spot while Russia and Trump-era politics loom over the continent”

With Trump back in the White House, do you think that things will be easier? I noticed a Maga cap on the bookcase when I arrived and I doubt that many European foreign ministers own one of those.
In the coming months we will need more countries that are able to talk to all sides. Being ready for conversation while taking a principled stance is what I believe will be most helpful for Serbia. As for Trump, if you look at the opinion polls in Europe, you’ll see that Serbia probably has the biggest number of his supporters per capita. Even many liberals here are pro-Trump. Their reasons aren’t ideological. It’s to do with the fact that it was the Democratic Clinton administration that bombed Serbia in 1999, bombed my hometown of Belgrade. Unfortunately, this is still a feeling that is out there but Serbia has made tremendous steps forward in its relationship with the US. People in Serbia would support any politician who is ready to take a fresh look at our country and establish a new type of relationship. We are moving closer to the US in many ways and are hopeful about seeing its new president visit Serbia.

How much of a burden is the recent past? Do you feel obliged to maintain some grievances for domestic political reasons? For example, you recently complained that the UN-designated day of recognition for the Srebrenica massacre of 1995 [in which some 8,000 Bosnian Muslim men and boys were killed] only memorialised one group, rather than the 100,000 victims of the wider conflict.
Unfortunately, many among the political elites and the wider public in the West haven’t been exposed to new developments in the Balkans so I often need to talk about all of the things that have changed. Among these is our mindset. In the 20th century, many of us were focused on ideological, territorial and identity issues. Now we are concentrating on growth and building up our infrastructure. Ethno-nationalism in its malign form is still out there but it’s not a prevailing current of Serbian politics – or even regional politics, for that matter.

Much of the rhetoric of Milorad Dodik, the president of Republika Srpska [one of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s two constituent entities, predominantly inhabited by Serbs], sounds like ethno-nationalism in its malign form.
I speak for the Republic of Serbia. We are committed to regional co-operation and stability. Serbia firmly supports Bosnia’s territorial integrity and sovereignty. It also supports the Dayton Peace Agreement, which means that we support the territorial integrity of Bosnia but also the [autonomy] of Republika Srpska and the Federation [of Bosnia and Herzegovina].

So you’re absolutely against any declaration of independence by Dodik?
I’m against anything that violates the Dayton Peace Agreement, including that.

Is your overall contention that prosperity is the cure for ethno-nationalism? 
Economic prosperity and connectivity are prerequisites but we also need to emancipate ourselves to a sufficient level to be able to preserve our national identities and cultures without hating each other. We might not be there yet but we’re getting close.

When you talk about the idea of the Balkans without internal borders, with national identities preserved yet subsumed in mutual self-interest, it sounds like you’re describing Yugoslavia.
We aren’t aspiring to recreate Yugoslavia because it failed miserably in previous generations. We want to create a truly European Balkans that will enable young people to live their dreams in their own region, instead of leaving for Western Europe, the UK or the US. And I believe that this is achievable in our generation.

In February, Greece announced a 12-year €28bn modernisation of its armed forces that will include the acquisition of 20 fifth-generation F-35 fighter jets, a sensor network for underwater threat detection and the construction of a comprehensive air, missile and anti-drone system dubbed “Achilles Shield”, built in partnership with Israel. The plan also allocates about €2.5bn a year to the Hellenic Armed Forces, meaning that Greece will potentially exceed the more than 3 per cent of GDP it currently spends on defence.

Countries such as Poland have been singled out for walking the talk on defence at a time of heightened security concerns across Europe. But Greece is rarely mentioned in the same sentence, even though it has the third-highest defence expenditure of European Nato members as a percentage of GDP. For decades, Athens, like many European nations, relied on the US to guarantee its security. Its mutual defence co-operation agreement with Washington, signed in 1990, grants American forces access to Greek bases.

“Athens’ military push comes at a time when it’s also trying to burnish its diplomatic credentials”

But with uncertainty over Washington’s commitment to Europe, Athens is recalibrating. It has become one of the EU’s most vocal advocates for defence autonomy, pushing for looser fiscal constraints to allow members to bolster their own security without breaching the EU debt ceiling. Kyriakos Mitsotakis, the Greek prime minister, has suggested a similar system to Achilles Shield to cover the whole continent. Athens’ military push comes at a time when it is also trying to burnish its diplomatic credentials. In January, Greece began a two-year term as a non-permanent member of the UN Security Council and foreign minister Giorgos Gerapetritis has been active, attending bilateral meetings concerning the wars in Ukraine and Gaza. During uncertain geopolitical times, Athens is aiming to have its voice heard above the panic. 

At the back of American designer Giancarlo Valle’s New York studio, there’s a room that looks as though it could be a Wallace and Gromit film set. Shelves are lined with maquettes from architecture and interior-design projects, which include miniature furniture pieces such as thumb-sized lampshades and chairs no larger than hens’ eggs. 

For Valle, who trained as an architect, these small-scale buildings and furnishings are integral to his practice, which encompasses architecture, interiors and the decorative arts for residential and commercial projects. His studio has designed lofts in New York, villas in St Barths and residences in Mexico City. “We work on a lot of interior architecture, so using models is important,” says Valle. “They help you to understand the proportions or height of something – both essential when it comes to composition.” 

The team spends hours crafting and then rearranging the sculptures within the maquettes. The studio has acquired a 3D printer that renders products in materials such as aluminium and wood. But sculpting pieces by hand from clay is still a large part of the creative process. “It’s fun,” says Valle, picking up a hand-moulded chair.

“As a creative person, one of the most rewarding things that you can achieve is an element of surprise,” he says. “There is a lot of planning in architecture, so you know what you’re going to get. But this process also allows you to do unexpected things,” he adds, holding up a green couch about the size of a deck of cards. He places it back on the shelf, next to a miniature coffee table. “Models force you to edit your work. With a computer, you can make objects as big or as small as you want. But with models, you actually have to make decisions.” 

The sculptures also act as a kind of visible archive that the team can tap in to at any point. “Having them in the space is a big part of the way we work,” says Valle, who often uses old models to inspire new projects. “We take ideas and repurpose them,” he adds, looking around the room at the various models, which resemble unfinished dolls’ houses. “There’s no formula to it. Sometimes we start on a computer and other times we start on a model but the idea is to keep things visible.”

Monocle follows Valle to the main room, where an employee is painting a maquette with squiggles and half-moon shapes in shades of black and gold. We then travel downstairs to a studio with a long, crafting worktable. Creating models in this way ensures that the team comes up with innovative design ideas that haven’t been perpetuated online. “It’s our remedy for internet algorithms,” says Valle. “Everything is digital now and everyone sees the same things. There’s no way to break out of that cycle unless you create your own analogue algorithm,” he says, gesturing to the shelves lined with objects and tools. “A generation of work is being created that is just referential; a recycling of ideas,” he says. “You have to invent your own world.”

Canadian author Éric Chacour’s writing reads more like poetry than prose. In his award-winning debut novel What I Know About You, he reimagines the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet through the character of Tarek, a Levantine Egyptian man living in 1980s Cairo whose life is turned upside down by a fateful encounter. For Chacour, writing is the medium he uses to translate a wide-ranging passion for the arts that also includes music and theatre. “I always say I wrote a novel because I couldn’t play the piano,” he says.

Born in Montréal to Egyptian parents who migrated to Canada in the late 1960s, Chacour grew up hearing stories about the community they had left behind. “They were part of a small Syro-Lebanese community in Cairo. They were Christian and often learned French before learning Arabic. It was a bubble within Egyptian society.” 

Setting his novel in late 20th century Cairo allowed Chacour to dive deeper into his heritage. “Writing this book was a way to connect my parents’ Egypt with the very different Egypt I saw when I visited many years later for Christmas or summer holidays,” he says. His father’s job also took the family between Montréal and Paris. 

It was as a teenager that he discovered his passion for literature through writing song lyrics. The words of singer-songwriters such as French artist Jean-Jacques Goldman and Belgian poet Jacques Brel made their way into his novel. “I recently re-listened to ‘Le Coureur’, a Goldman song I hadn’t heard in a long time and stopped when I heard his lyric, ‘Je suis étranger partout’ [I’m a stranger everywhere],” he says. “It’s a central theme in my book and I realised that’s where I probably got the idea for it.”

Originally written in French, his debut novel received accolades from the Francophone literary world, including the Prix des Libraires (awarded by booksellers), the Prix Femina des Lycéens (an accolade given by a jury comprising only adolescents) and most recently the Prix France-Québec, a Canadian literary award. The novel has been translated into 15 languages. 

For Chacour, collaborating with the translators was a process of rediscovering his own work. “It forced me to verbalise my intentions, some of which had been purely subconscious,” he says. “My English translator would pick two sentences from the original text and would notice similar structures such as the same number of syllables and rhyming words. There’s a distinctive poetic construction that I hadn’t fully realised existed.” The English version earning a shortlist nomination for the 2024 Giller Prize, a Canadian award for English language fiction, is a testament to the translator’s success in conveying not only the words but the melody of Chacour’s story. 

Most recently, What I Know AboutYou has been picked up for a theatre adaptation in Québec with Canadian artistic director Olivier Arteau taking on the task of bringing the author’s words to the stage. For Chacour, this new translation is the occasion to explore another dimension of his novel, mixing different art forms to create an even more meaningful experience. 

It’s also an opportunity to settle back in Québec after a year touring the world to promote his book – and tackle his second novel. “I’m ready to go back to the solitude of my keyboard,” he says. “For a lot of authors, writing is a painful thing. For me, it’s a soothing process.”

Art 

City of Others: Asian Artists in Paris 1920s–1940s
National Gallery Singapore

Between the two world wars, Paris was a playground for artists such as Picasso and Dalí. This group show reframes the era from an Asian perspective, spotlighting talented painters, such as Georgette Chen and Amrita Sher-Gil, and Paris-based designers and furniture makers from Asia. Often sidelined at the time, this overdue corrective explores their influence on Western art.
‘City of Others’ runs from 2 April to 17 August 2025

Paula Rego and Adriana Varejão: Between Your Teeth
Centro de Arte Moderna Gulbenkian 

Varejão is one of Brazil’s leading contemporary artists, famed for using cracked Portuguese tiles as a visual metaphor for subjects such as colonialism and religion. She co-curates this two-hander, drawing parallels with the work of Paula Rego, who shared a desire to tackle taboos.
‘Between Your Teeth’ runs from 11 April to 15 September 2025

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Photography

Kunié Sugiura: Photopainting
San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

A trained photographer, Sugiura’s first multimedia works happened by chance in 1967 when she moved to New York and couldn’t find a darkroom. Coating canvases in photo emulsion started a lifetime of experimentation. The artist has oscillated between the soft expressiveness of her brush and the focus of her lens ever since.
‘Kunié Sugiura’ runs from 26 April to 14 September 2025

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Books

Children of Radium 
Joe Dunthorne

In this memoir, poet and novelist Joe Dunthorne investigates the life of his great-grandfather Siegfried, a Jewish scientist who worked in Germany between the wars developing, among other substances, radioactive toothpaste and poison gas. Siegfried wrote a near 2,000-page memoir, which Dunthorne’s father called “a bit of a slog”. By contrast, Children of Radium is anything but: a funny and moving family history that troubles even as it entertains.
‘Children of Radium’ is published on 3 April

The Accidentals
Guadalupe Nettel, translated by Rosalind Harvey

Nettel, one of Mexico’s most well-regarded authors, returns with a collection exploring the ways in which ordinary lives can turn upside down. Sometimes these changes, such as the one described in “The Pink Door”, are brought about by magic. Other stories, such as the brilliantly menacing “Playing with Fire”, suspend us in a space somewhere between realism and horror-tinged fantasy.
‘The Accidentals’ is published on 10 April

On the Calculation ofVolume, Books I & II
Solvej Balle, translated by Barbara J Haveland

The first two books of Danish writer Solvej Balle’s On the Calculation ofVolume are published simultaneously. They follow Tara, a bookseller, as she lives repeatedly through the same November day. If the conceit isn’t original, the beauty and philosophical heft that Balle brings to it is.
‘On the Calculation ofVolume’ Books I & II are published on 10 April

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TV

Government Cheese
Apple TV1

David Oyelowo, alongside his wife and producing partner Jessica, signed a first-look deal with Apple TV+ after his work on their series Silo convinced him of the streamer’s commitment to originality and artistic integrity. Their collaboration, surrealist comedy Government Cheese, features Oyelowo as a 1960s family man intent on grabbing his slice of the American dream.
‘Government Cheese’ is released on 16 April

The Eternaut
Netflix

One of Argentina’s most celebrated literary works, The Eternaut is a dystopian comic series about the survivors of a mysterious, toxic snowfall, now left to battle new oppressors. It proved unexpectedly prescient for its writer, Héctor Germán Oesterheld, who was disappeared by the country’s military dictatorship in 1977. Now, a Spanish-language adaptation shot in Buenos Aires hopes to honour his legacy.
‘The Eternaut’ is released on 30 April

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Music 

Slipper Imp and Shakaerator
Babe Rainbow

Listening to Babe Rainbow will immediately transport you to their native Rainbow Bay in East Australia. This album was recorded in a warehouse on a banana farm and is full of their trademark sunny acid-pop sounds. The breezy “Long Live the Wilderness” hides the track’s theme of the loss of innocence. Another highlight is “Like Cleopatra”, featuring fun synth-funk beats.
‘Slipper Imp and Shakaerator’ is released on 4 April 

Jesucrista Superstar
Rigoberta Bandini

This is Spanish singer Paula Ribó González’s follow-up to her successful 2022 record La Emperatriz. The 22-track album traverses from the danceable electro pop of “Kaiman”, which sounds like it could be a winning Eurovision entry, to the poignant single “Pamela Anderson”, a tribute to the American actress. A big summer tour across Spain is on the horizon.
‘Jesucrista Superstar’ is out now

Music Can Hear Us 
DJ Koze

The German DJ and music producer returns with an album released on his own label, Pampa Records. The cosmic-inspired record has an A-list set of contributors, including Damon Albarn on “Pure Love” and Ada and Sofia Kourtesis on “Tu Dime Cuando”. Progressive house track “Unbelievable” is a highlight, as is the otherworldly cover of the 1983 iconic summer hit “Vamos a la Playa” by Italian duo Righeira.
‘Music Can Hear Us’ is released on 4 April

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Film 

The End 
Joshua Oppenheimer 

Having made The Act of Killing, one of the most inventive documentaries in memory, and followed it up with further acclaimed non-fiction work, it would have been easy for filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer to remain in his comfort zone. Instead, he has defied expectations by returning to cinemas with an audacious post-apocalyptic musical starring Tilda Swinton and Michael Shannon as the heads of a family clinging to their privilege after an extinction-level event.
‘The End’ is released on 28 March 

The Most Precious of Cargoes
Michel Hazanavicius

The first animated feature to compete for the Palme d’Or since Waltz with Bashir in 2008 takes on similar themes of war, dehumanisation and trauma. In this case, a fairy-tale retelling of the Holocaust centres around a baby abandoned just outside Auschwitz. It’s a lyrical fable that includes the perspective of those who enacted these horrors – and some who defied them.
‘The Most Precious of Cargoes’ is released on 4 April

The Amateur
James Hawes

In troubled times, escapism and familiarity can be attractive, so the timing of The Amateur could not be more perfect. James Hawes’ spy thriller is based on the 1981 Robert Littell novel, which was previously adapted for the screen starring Christopher Plummer. It has now been reimagined with Rami Malek as a CIA operative who goes on a quest to avenge his wife’s death.
‘The Amateur’ is released on 11 April 

Russia’s assault on Ukraine has been an ominous advert for a nuclear deterrent. Moscow felt empowered to launch its rampage in part because Kyiv is not protected by such weapons. Ukraine ceded the Soviet nukes stationed on its territory after gaining independence and, unlike the formerly Soviet Baltic states, it is not under Nato’s nuclear umbrella. Conversely, Russia’s nuclear weapons stopped Ukraine’s allies taking a more direct role in its defence. This two-way demonstration of the efficacy of nuclear deterrence, coupled with recent statements by Donald Trump’s administration, will prompt focused discussions among countries that spent the Atomic Age assuming that American Minutemen, Titans, Tridents and Tomahawks were protecting Berlin, Seoul, Sydney and Toronto as diligently as  Washington, Honolulu, Albuquerque and Muskogee.

Several countries could build nuclear weapons and might now begin inching from the theoretical to the practical. Polling in South Korea has shown handy majorities in favour – living next door to a nuclear-armed cult compound that threatens you with obliteration will do that – and that was when the US was assumed to be a reliable ally. If Iran ever tests a functional device, Saudi Arabia will want one too. Poland has indicated a willingness to host American nukes – if the US has lost interest in defending Europe, Poland may prefer to host its own. Turkey, which stores American tactical nuclear bombs at Incirlik airbase, has occasionally sounded interested.

Countries that fear China may also consider their options. Taiwan had a nuclear-weapons programme until the 1980s, before ending it under American pressure. They are obviously a sensitive issue in Japan but former prime minister Shinzo Abe publicly tested the water on the subject. Australia’s mood has shifted towards nuclear energy; nuclear power is a current election issue. If it can’t rely on Washington, Canberra could decide to go it alone.

The more nuclear weapons there are, the greater the danger of rogue actors obtaining them or calamitous misjudgements being made. President Trump has not been wrong to note the costs to America of underpinning a rules-based global order. There are also costs of not doing it.

Mueller is the host of the ‘Foreign Desk’ on Monocle Radio.

Slice of life
Louise Courvoisier, director

The process of making comté cheese isn’t something that has had much cinematic airtime. But director Louise Courvoisier puts the arduous task centre stage in Holy Cow. The new film follows 18-year-old Totone as he takes over his father’s dairy farm while wrestling with the travails of first relationships. Here, Courvoisier tells us about decentralising French cinema, casting non-professional actors, and why cheese is a worthy protagonist.

How did you choose the film’s location?
I grew up in the Jura, so that’s where I shot the film. I wanted to make a film about the young people who I grew up with and those that don’t have a choice to leave the countryside. In France, films are always set around Paris, so it was important for me to focus on my area.

How did you cast the film?
I wanted to work with non-professional actors who were from the area, but I didn’t know how to find them. It isn’t a documentary, so they had to be good at acting. Clément Faveau, who plays Totone, has fire and fragility in him.

Why did you want to tell a story about comté?
Only a small part of France is allowed to make this cheese. When you come from the area, it surrounds you in a way. It was a challenge to film, but I was confident about the idea because it’s interesting to capture a process that’s so physical. Totone grows up in the film, and making comté helps him to evolve.

Holy Cow is in cinemas on 11 April.

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Novel techniques
Natasha Brown, author

Following the success of her debut, Assembly, in 2021, British novelist Natasha Brown returns with Universality. In this comedy thriller, a journalist’s exposé raises questions about the power that language holds. Here, Brown tells us about her influences, writing dialogue and hooking readers.

Is social analysis at the heart of ‘Universality’? 
Jane Austen is a huge influence. Her novels capture what life and people were like in her time; the little hypocrisies of those who take themselves too seriously. I wanted to do the same for what the world looks like today. 

How do you write such lifelike conversations? 
I write every scene from the perspective of every character, then go over it. After I’ve done that, I write from that scene’s narrative perspective and pick and choose from those different bits. Sometimes I have to be harsh and take away a character’s perfect line but I always need to believe that they’re real people and that their motivations are real. 

How do you balance the excitement with the ideas?
I wouldn’t write novels if I wasn’t interested in these questions about language. The esoteric side is where I begin. But when I get into it, it’s about the characters, the story and the hook. These are key.

‘Universality’ is published by Faber UK and Penguin US

The blurring of boundaries between fashion and design is picking up pace: famed Finnish design house Iitala (whose catalogue includes designs by Aino and Alvar Aalto, and Tapio Wirkkala) has just celebrated the second anniversary of its creative director, Janni Vepsäläinen, who took up the role after working as the head of knitwear at JW Anderson. Meanwhile, French outdoor furniture firm Tolix is now being run by former Balmain executives Antoine Bejui and Emmanuel Diemoz. At Milan Design Week, which this year runs from 7 to 13 April, the biggest showcases are almost always the fashion brands, with Hermes’ homewares prompting queues around the block. A host of labels have even launched furniture and homeware lines – Fendi Casa, Versace Home and Dolce & Gabbana Casa spring to mind.

This movement is, so far, one way: fashion to furniture. Perhaps it’s understandable, as clothing textiles know-how is simpler to apply to upholstery than joinery and welding to cutting a suit. Nonetheless, I’ve begun pondering what the furniture industry could embrace. Certainly, I don’t want to see fashion’s rapid seasonality transfer over: in an ideal world, you’re sitting on the same sofa in 30 years’ time – and preferably not in the same pair of trousers. 

I would like to see furniture brands that show the fashion designer’s sense of adventure. Furniture design studios tend to share creative directors, an approach that means the same person is churning out similar-looking chairs and sofas for multiple brands. Fashion’s current merry-go-round of creative directors, by contrast, is producing a giddy host of new styles. And emerging fashion designers are given serious platforms: editors flocked to Jawara Alleyne’s London Fashion Week show in February to size the young designer up. By tapping into fashion’s taste for innovation, furniture brands might be able to compete, finding themselves some breathing room in a crowded creative market. They could step back into the limelight at events such as Milan Design Week too. And maybe it will even make for a better product.

It was a night to remember, even for South Korea – a country accustomed to political turmoil and social unrest along its 77-year road to democracy. President Yoon Suk Yeol’s martial-law declaration in December was short-lived but it succeeded in unleashing a flood of political and social complications that continue to this day. 

While news traffic has surged, so too has distrust in traditional journalism. The struggle to hold on to audiences has intensified as their interpretations of news have become increasingly polarised. Meanwhile, balanced reporting has become more difficult, with fringe views harder to ignore. News outlets have been accused of misrepresenting information while conspiracy theories have run rampant in the months since. Youtube algorithms are convincing radicals – both progressive and conservative – that their beliefs are the truth.

To the democratic audience worldwide, the case was clear-cut. Yoon’s martial-law decree, which banned all political activities and placed the media and doctors under military supervision, was swiftly judged in the courts. But the question for the media in South Korea has been how to report the nitty gritty of his trials without burying the bigger picture. 

At The Korea Herald, we provide an inside perspective for global readers and strive to report in a way that provides context. During those six hours of martial law, we glimpsed what being robbed of our freedom of speech might look like. But the turmoil also united the country’s news outlets, regardless of their political persuasions, and reinforced our fundamental purpose. It highlighted how journalism exists to assist people’s judgement and not lead it, and how safeguarding the credibility of the media has become even more important to ensuring a sound democracy.

Lee Joo-Hee is the managing director of The Korea Herald.