Thirty years ago, a new art biennale called Manifesta launched in Rotterdam. Most biennials root themselves in a single city to accrue cultural capital but Manifesta takes place across different European cities or regions every two years. Founded by Dutch art historian Hedwig Fijen in the 1990s, its nomadic format reflected the fluidity of the post-Cold War continent and the optimism of the young EU.
Manifesta’s expansive exhibitions are organised and funded in collaboration with the hosting venue. The event’s early iterations prioritised connecting western and eastern Europe but as the continent’s geopolitics shifted, so did its mission.
“In the beginning we were still a [conventional] art biennale,” says Fijen. Later, Manifesta worked with politicians to define civic needs, while curatorial teams got involved early to tailor concepts to place and purpose.
Manifesta’s 2018 biennial reclaimed 20 long-neglected or mafia-compromised sites across Palermo, while in 2022, the event revived forgotten community hubs in Pristina, drawing the art world’s attention to Europe’s youngest capital city. At the time, Kosovo citizens were severely restricted from travelling to the EU (the EU Commission has since lifted the country’s visa restrictions; Fijen suspects that the international coverage of Manifesta contributed to the reversal).
These examples matter now more than ever. Artists and activists at the 2026 Venice Biennale organised boycotts and protests over the inclusion of Russia and Israel in the event. Other fairs in Europe and beyond continue to prioritise the blue-chip art market rather than considering local audiences. “But many biennials are rethinking their basic model of operation,” says Fijen, who has come to see mega-exhibitions as incubators for urban ideas and new ways of bringing communities together, rather than showcases.
Manifesta’s approach is clearly catching on, with several hyperlocal events emerging in its wake. Take South Tyrol’s Biennale Gherdëina, which launched alongside Manifesta 7 in 2008 and just held its 10th edition. The show featured 24 artists, whose work pops up everywhere from mountain trails to village squares. Then there’s Climate Biennial: Art, Industry and Territory which takes place for the first time this year in Avilés, Spain, with 40 artists showcasing work across 11 venues (one of its founders worked on the Barcelona Manifesta). In an era of copycat biennials and heavy curatorial concepts, thematic local events increasingly resonate with both art lovers and professionals.
On 21 June this year, the event’s 16th edition will open in Ruhr, a post-industrial region in the northwest of Germany. Titled “This is not a church”, it shines a light on an economically fragile area, as well as the demographic changes that the Ruhr has undergone since its once-mighty coal mines began closing in the 1980s. During Manifesta’s early research, it became clear that a hidden issue facing the region was the increasing number of church closures. In postwar Germany, centres of faith served as community anchors but this has changed over the past several decades. The exhibition features the work of artists such as Mona Hatoum and Luc Tuymans alongside many others in 12 decommissioned churches.
At this year’s Manifesta, there’s great art to see but the event will also help open local imaginations to what these buildings can become after the fair closes its doors in October. Here, ideas such as opening community gardens and indoor tennis courts are already brewing. “People want to come together and create new circumstances,” says Fijen. The question now is whether other biennials are willing or able to create the conditions that contribute to a place’s future, even after the art crowd has moved on.
manifesta16.org
Since we launched The Monocle Quality of Life Survey in 2007, we have sought to show that what makes a city great is about more than just low-crime rates, economics and public-transport connections (though these factors do make a considerable difference). Markers of urban quality of life also include inhabitants and visitors feeling considered, easy access to green space, the ability to grab a decent meal after 22.00 and a sense of community.
The cities that have topped our rankings over the past 10 years share many of these qualities – some cities have topped the charts multiple times. As we look forward to the release of our 2026 Quality of Life Survey this Thursday 25 June (order your magazine here), we’re looking back at the cities that came first-in-place and the ideas that helped them get there.
2025
Paris
“I can honestly say that there’s no city in the world in which I would rather live,” says Charles-Antoine Depardon, an architect and advisor on urban development to Paris’s city council, as he strolls through the Tuileries on his way to work at the Hôtel de Ville. “It is an extraordinary cocktail.”
Depardon might be biased but on a spring morning, as the French capital’s avenues resound to the click-clack of hard leather shoes on spruce concrete, it’s hard to argue with him. The 2024 Olympics provided Paris with the platform to showcase its chic contemporary self. The city delivered a rousing performance that also served as a fitting coda to a decade of revival under mayor Anne Hidalgo, whose ambitious (and sometimes controversial) urbanism interventions have made it cleaner, greener and safer, while maintaining and protecting the personality that give Paris its inimitable charm. The French capital in the 21st century looks a lot like it did in the 20th century but that’s a large part of the appeal. And today it is also a more international, outward-looking city than it has ever been.
Read more in our 2025 Quality of Life Survey, or buy the magazine issue here.
2024
Munich
Munich is perhaps Germany’s most attractive city. Since 2000, the populations of Berlin, Hamburg, Köln and Frankfurt have grown by about 15 per cent – but Munich’s has risen by almost a third. One reason is the city’s economic and intellectual draw. Of Germany’s 40 largest companies, seven hail from Munich. This has probably contributed to its status as Germany’s most expensive city. But talent is nurtured here. In December 2024, the city set aside an extra €668m for building and renovating nurseries, pre-schools and schools; with a total budget of €8.4bn since its inception in 2011, it’s Germany’s largest such scheme. On the other end of the academic ladder, the Technical University of Munich and LMU München are two of the country’s top universities. The city’s proportion of employees with an academic degree is 41 per cent, also Germany’s highest.
Munich is also the country’s best city for a healthy lifestyle. In an EU ranking of 38 German regions by life expectancy, Upper Bavaria, home to Munich, came first with 82.3 years. One explanation is the city’s access to nature: pristine environs, the river Isar and parks such as the Englischer Garten. New leisure facilities have opened too. Among them is Kunstkraftwerk Bergson, a power station converted into an arts venue. Last year, the city nearly tripled its newly installed solar power capacity with a scheme that supports small panels on private balconies. Munich’s future looks sunny. A worthy winner.
Read more in our Quality of Life Survey 2024, or buy the issue of the magazine here.
2023
Vienna
With Vienna’s stunning baroque architecture and refurbished parliament building, it’s easy to forget its natural beauty. But there are hills, lakes and rivers within the city limits. As the sun returns, so do the Viennese – to the water. Danube Island is a popular spot, as are public swimming areas such as the Gänsehäufel on the Alte Donau.
Meanwhile, museums have been celebrating the 150th anniversary of the event that turned the city into a global metropolis: the 1873 Vienna World’s Fair. Though it was a financial disaster, it rekindled European interest in Japanese and Middle Eastern arts and crafts, which in turn inspired Viennese artists such as Gustav Klimt.
City authorities have pressed on with their plan to build more social housing, while crime is at its lowest rate in 20 years. A network of community-run parklets known as Grätzloasen, set up by former deputy mayor Maria Vassilakou, has continued to expand into neighbourhoods devoid of public space. Vienna’s excellent transport system is seeing two more additions, both produced by Siemens, whose factory is located within the city: driverless X-Wagen trains for the Vienna U-Bahn and new Nightjet sleeper trains for Austria’s national railway operator, ÖBB. Construction has continued on the new U5 U-Bahn line, though the planned reopening of a section of the U2 line has been delayed until next year. But even without it, Vienna has an embarrassment of transport riches.
Read more in our Quality of Life Survey 2023, or buy the issue of the magazine here.
2022
Copenhagen
Copenhagen’s decision to gear its city planning towards cyclists and pedestrians has resulted in cleaner air and reduced congestion, and has helped to improve the health and wellbeing of its residents. But there’s always more ground to cover: Nordic weather also demands a public transport system for days when the sleet feels like needles. So the Copenhagen Metro is still expanding, connecting previously distant neighbourhoods.
And the C-word? It’s as if the dreaded virus never happened. The Danish capital’s residents reverted to normality without a fuss, which reflects the sense of collective responsibility and togetherness that the city has fostered. Great new restaurants are opening almost every week (most have moved beyond the New Nordic dogma), culture has never been more vibrant and the economy is booming.
The city also scores well on safety, runs smoothly and has a generous welfare system and support for new parents (though inequality is nudging up). The whole country is undertaking the move towards carbon neutrality by 2050 but there are shorter-term advantages to living here – the proximity of the harbour for a lunchtime swim, for one.
Buy our 2022 Quality of Life magazine issue here.
2021
Copenhagen
In 2021, the global media picked up on the Danish word samfunssind, which roughly translates as “society-minded” and conveys a sense of pride in social cohesion. Copenhageners demonstrate their samfunssind in the way that they ensure their city is a place where children can roam free, is accessible to those on lower incomes and has efficient public transport, better air quality and a harbour that’s clean enough to swim in.
Yet without the tourists, it seems that Copenhageners are falling in love with their city once again. With its well-preserved cobbled squares, copper-spired beauty, green spaces, ample waterfronts, independent retail scene and a still-expanding choice of restaurants, the Danish capital excels. The new Metro ring has made it easier to access all parts of the city, and the Refshaleøen district is particularly appealing these days due to the presence of the Copenhagen Contemporary art museum and an eclectic range of dining options.
Buy our 2021 Quality of Life magazine issue here.
2020
We took a break.
2019
Zürich
Zürich is a city that gives you the feeling that all is right with the world. It starts at the airport, where you will encounter few queues at customs and a punctual train that delivers you from arrivals to the city centre in minutes. You’ll step out onto neatly swept streets lined with well-appointed shops – and in the distance catch a glimpse of the snow-capped Alps beyond the turquoise blue of Lake Zürich.
The Swiss city of more than 400,000 people often resembles a picture postcard – especially in the summer, when the crystal-clear water is busy with swimmers and sailing boats.
Though the streets are filled with Ferraris and Teslas – the city is Switzerland’s banking capital, after all – more people ride around on bikes or take trams and ferries to get from A to B. Zürich is walkable and environmentally friendly: it’s on its way to becoming carbon neutral and aims to be a 2,000-watt society by 2050, meaning each person will limit their energy consumption to 2,000 watts per year. To encourage cycling, a few more bike paths to make everyone feel safe enough to hop on the saddle are in the works.
2018
Munich
Munich might boast some of Germany’s steepest property prices but the rewards of living here are just as high: this city uniquely combines excellent infrastructure with a booming economy, proximity to nature with appreciation for culture and a strong local identity with a welcoming cosmopolitanism. And, lest we forget, its airport is a joy to behold.
Let’s start with infrastructure. People sometimes call Munich “Italy’s northernmost city” but that’s only true if by Italy you mean South Tyrol. While other southern European cities’ public transport systems fester and decay, in Munich the system is so slick and universally embraced that on the U-Bahn you are just as likely to sit next to a dignified elderly woman in an ankle-length fur coat and a YSL bag as you are a student engrossed in their phone screen. Most of its 18 public swimming pools, 10 of which have a sauna, wouldn’t feel out of place at a top-notch private gym. The same goes for the showers at the airport.
The strong economy also attracts talent from all over the world. People often think of Berlin as Germany’s cosmopolitan city but with a foreign population of about 28 per cent, Munich is actually more so.
2017
Tokyo
Living in Japan can sometimes feel like inhabiting a very safe, impossibly polite bubble, detached from the strife, intolerance and ugly rhetoric that seem to be so prevalent in many parts of the world. Of course, other places are not always so bad and Japan is not perfect but, as far as large-scale cities go, Tokyo has got urban living down to a fine art. Primary school children walk to school unaccompanied as a matter of course and the streets are safe, even at night. Good service is expected and received in every situation. In fact, the level of civility is so universal, and everyone so attuned to it, that any deviation from acceptable standards – a mildly sullen waiter or inattentive shop staff – causes disproportionate outrage.
The overwhelming sense is that people go out of their way not to bother others. Disturbing fellow subway passengers with a booming conversation just wouldn’t be on and you can almost feel the collective horror should someone start eating a pungent burger or put their shoes on a seat. If it sounds exhausting, it really isn’t. The awareness of not imposing one’s presence on others is absorbed from childhood and internalised to the point where it becomes instinctive. There’s an unspoken agreement among Tokyo’s citizens that whatever the situation – a crowded train, a busy bus or an airport-security queue – it will all be much easier if everyone thinks of others and not just themselves.
2016
Tokyo
Where other cities talk a good game about being 24/7, Tokyo delivers – and not just on the singing and drinking front. As city mayors plot ways to entice talent and investment while also offering up strategies for a superior quality of life, the city’s round-the-clock economy is a key feature that makes it one of the most attractive places to live and visit. With a conveniently located international airport that operates 24 hours a day, bookshops that open at 07.00 and close at 04.00, and restaurants and shops that never close, Tokyo recognises the pull of being open all hours. Other hubs should take note. As we often say on our editorial floor, if you don’t like bright lights and buzz there’s a lovely place to move called the countryside.
We’ll see you for the release of our 2026 Quality of Life Survey this Thursday 25 June – order your magazine here
1.
Thailand: The Monocle Handbook
The sixth installment in Monocle’s Handbook series takes you across Thailand’s stunning scenery. From mountainous Chiang Rai all the way down to tropical Phuket, we head to wellness retreats, restaurants serving fresh takes on traditional dishes, national parks, temples and envelope-pushing culture hubs to show you why this sunny nation remains the stuff of holiday dreams. Plus, if you’re interested in a permanent relocation there, we spotlight the neighbourhoods and islands where you can make a home and profile the architects and designers to commission for the job. So pack your bags and experience this special corner of Southeast Asia afresh.
2.
Greece: The Monocle Handbook
Making time for a weekend trip to the Hellenic world or planning to stay a little longer? We present our most treasured recommendations across the country, from rural tavernas to island retreats and Arcadian ski slopes. We’ve also scoured the country for its most skilled artisans, so take a trip and dive into our guide to Greek fashion, food and design. Plus: for those looking to put down roots we reveal the places to set up a home, the clubs to join and the architects to consult. It’s time to explore this ancient country afresh.
Buy a copy here
3.
France: The Monocle Handbook
Allow us to take you on a tour of our most cherished Gallic spots. We have traversed the mainland to scout out the creme de la creme of the nation’s bounty.
Come with us to Marseille and Montpellier, Biarritz and Brittany, with stop-offs in the Alps and along the rugged coast of Corsica. Break bread at both new and established bistros, visit luxury ateliers with a discerning eye for design and check in to Paris’s most storied hotels and metropolitan boltholes. Plus: we toast the nation’s vineyards, the cultural spots honouring France’s artistic heritage and the plucky retailers setting up shop in the country’s second cities. Fancy staying a while longer? We’ll take you through the places in which to linger, should you wish to put down roots. France is the world’s most visited country, and for good reason.
Buy a copy here
4.
Portugal: The Monocle Handbook
A practical guide that will introduce you to the best the country has to offer as we present our favourite spots across the country. We’ve travelled from north to south (via the islands) to find innovative retailers and traditional ateliers, the chefs turning out the tastiest dishes and the sleekest hotels – not to mention undiscovered beaches and world-leading cultural venues. We even reveal the best neighbourhoods to invest in should you wish to put down roots in this sunny nation, plus the plucky entrepreneurs who’ve already made the move. It’s time to pack your bags for Portugal.
Buy a copy here
5.
Spain: The Monocle Handbook
This sunny book looks beyond the tourist haunts to present Monocle’s favourite spots across from Madrid and Malaga to the Balearic and Canary Islands. Discover innovative retailers, culinary hotspots and cool hotels, as well as leading museums and galleries – and, of course, a beach or two. We also introduce the smartest neighbourhoods to relocate to, plus the design contacts to know, with advice from a few plucky entrepreneurs who have already set up shop. What are you waiting for? It’s time to pack your bags and discover this varied nation afresh.
Buy a copy here
6.
Swim & Sun
Here you’ll find our pick of the places in which to cool off when the mercury rises and plenty to get you dreaming about your next dip. We celebrate the joys of diving into the ocean, leaping into a river and allowing your limbs to stretch – and your mind to clear – as you simply swim. In its visually stunning pages, the guide celebrates the sunny pleasures on offer at our favourite beach clubs, urban pools and lakeside bathing spots. Pick up a copy and jump in. The water’s perfect.
Buy a copy here
The recent upheaval at 60 Minutes – the US’s longest-running news programme, which airs on Sunday evenings on CBS – amounts to a straightforward political story. In October 2024, Donald Trump, who had long characterised much of the mainstream media as an “enemy of the American people”, sued the network over a pre-election interview with Kamala Harris on the show that, he alleged, had been edited to make her look better. He demanded $10bn (€8.7bn) in damages and called for CBS to be stripped of its licence. In July 2025, in an attempt to appease the president and usher in new, deep-pocketed owners, CBS’s parent company, Paramount, agreed to a $16m (€14m) settlement. A new senior editorial team was installed soon afterwards. Helmed by columnist and TV news novice Bari Weiss, the change has steered 60 Minutes towards more White House-friendly territory.
Cue the unceremonious firing of long-serving senior staff; the decision to allow Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, to cherry-pick his interviewer; and the showdown between incoming executive producer, Nick Bilton (also a TV newbie) and seasoned correspondent Scott Pelley, which led to the latter’s firing by email.
Yet this almost 60-year-old show, with a format hardly tinkered with until now, is still the most-watched news programme in the US. And its audience still seems to be growing. It has forged a reputation as television journalism’s north star for good reason. Within the parameters of its famous format – the motif of a ticking stop-clock, the scripted segment introductions – 60 Minutes has continued to reshape the idea of how to report the news on TV and which stories to tell. Nielsen, the ratings-tracking agency, reported that the number of viewers tuning in had increased by 9 per cent over the past year.
“It’s a very old-fashioned formula,” the programme’s then executive producer, Bill Owens, told me in Toronto in 2023. (Owens resigned in April 2025, citing concerns over editorial meddling in the output of 60 Minutes under Weiss’s stewardship of CBS News.) “It hasn’t changed at all over 55 years,” he added. “We’ve profiled everyone from Beyoncé to Bruce Springsteen. Actors, thieves, poets – you name them. People scream and curse at us from the right and the left. We like it that way. That’s why we remain important in the lives of American news audiences. It’s part of the fabric.”
Well-established news formats have an advantage over newer ones when it comes to their relationships with audiences: trust. The assumption that a long-standing title, particularly if it’s still popular, must be reinvented just because it is old couldn’t be lazier. A newsroom is only as strong as its bond with its viewers. Once that’s lost, it’s difficult to get it back.
Yes, audiences are changing. Owens acknowledged this. “It’s challenging,” he said. “We’ve also lost share of the audience but that’s because the entire broadcast television audience has gotten smaller. Where we have seen dramatic gains are on our digital platform and our Youtube numbers have doubled this year. If people are still getting the quality journalism that 60 Minutes has been bringing people for more than five decades, they’ll continue to tune in.”
But changing tastes need to be catered to carefully, particularly in a news ecosystem where information, often of dubious origin, is more readily available than ever. Under its new management, the clock appears to be ticking on one of the US’s most successful and lucrative news formats. It would be a mistake to let it stop entirely.
Tomos Lewis is Monocle’s Toronto correspondent. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.
In the depths of a low-lit basement in central London, James Dickson is explaining how his coffee brand, Workshop, began. “I was interested in what’s called the ‘third-wave’ movement,” he says over floral long blacks. The trend focused on speciality coffee beans with flavour profiles mapped to region, roast and growing season. “Consumer behaviour formed around it and the technology too: machines from companies such as La Marzocco were designed to get the very best out of the coffee.”
Workshop rode the wave to become one of the UK’s leading coffee suppliers to the luxury hospitality sector, offering both the product as well as the training to storied establishments such as Claridge’s and The Langham. The company began by travelling to clients’ coffee bars to teach their staff how to brew the perfect cup. But as the business grew – they now have more than 400 clients worldwide – a new solution was called for. “I saw the opportunity to create a modern British brand that pioneered sourcing and roasting techniques, distinct from the antipodean approach,” says Dickson.
Now, 15 years after Workshop’s founding, that opportunity has been fully realised in a new flagship café and academy in London’s Belgravia neighbourhood. The venue was vital for its proximity to the company’s London-based clients and the neighbourhood “was a key location because it reflected the heritage of London”, says Dickson. “It’s a stone’s throw from Victoria Station, Buckingham Palace and Hyde Park. I was quite obsessed with that.”
London, luxury, simplicity
Dickson’s commitment to representing London and championing a British aesthetic was core to the design brief for the café and workshop space. “I had three words in mind when working with our designers: London, luxury and simplicity,” he says.
To bring that vision to life, Dickson tapped 3Stories, a London-based design studio. “We felt that Belgravia contained all three of these key concepts, so our goal was to invoke a feeling of the brand as well as the neighbourhood,” says Jordan Littler, creative director at 3Stories. To do that, the design firm used Workshop’s signature red-and-green colour palette and brought in texturally rich materials, such as burgundy ceramic from Bologna and Calacatta Verde marble, for a space that invites customers to slow down.
“We wanted people to stop, pause, enjoy the surroundings and their order,” says Dickson. “There aren’t screens or robots trying to speed up the process of buying a coffee.” In today’s oversaturated market, Dickson believes that methodical service is key in creating a premium experience. “Coffee has become a bit ‘high-street’”, he says. “You don’t always get water, you don’t always get a smile, you don’t always get to experience the space. That can have an impact on your day when the price of coffee is going up.”
Most speciality cafés transport customers to cities elsewhere: Copenhagen, Tokyo, Melbourne and Milan, to name a few. For Dickson, keeping the customer situated in London is part of a bigger goal to put the city on the coffee map. “I feel like London doesn’t get enough credit,” he says. “After many years in this industry, I can honestly say that it is currently one of the leading global cities when it comes to speciality coffee.”
The design brief also nodded to the UK’s rich history of craftsmanship. “We wanted to revive the romantic association with British manufacturing in its heyday,” he says. To do so, 3Stories took inspiration from the leather stitching found in the interiors of Aston Martin vehicles, Burberry’s sharp tailoring and the refined opulence of Rolls-Royce. “I wanted Workshop to feel like it was bringing back that feeling of high-quality, British craftsmanship,” he says.
Brewing a generation of well-trained baristas
At Workshop’s academy, James Bailey, chief product officer, is standing next to glittering new coffee machines that will train many future baristas. The company’s success is thanks to its relationships with growers, and its dedication to a range of distinct flavours.
“There are certain flavour profiles that are very on trend that we’re not interested in,” says Bailey. The company instead prefers sweet, clean and “juicy” coffee flavours. Maintaining this signature profile to the highest standards is not simply a case of buying the right harvest – it’s about keeping strong relationships with farms, which are mostly based in East Africa and South America. The company works with its growers to determine fair pricing for the beans. “If you pay a premium price for the coffee, it allows [the growers] to reinvest in their infrastructures and their trees, and therefore retain the quality,” he says. “[That way we don’t] have to scramble and find a new market every year.”
Sourcing, roasting and brewing distinguishes a good coffee from a great one. While many people compare coffee to wine, Dickson says the former is much more complex. “A good bottle of wine can be led by subjectivity – some people just prefer a chardonnay over a sauvignon blanc,” he says. “Coffee is not quite as simple. So much can go wrong through sourcing and the extraction process, as well as the serving mechanism. Only the last 10 per cent is subjective. It’s why it’s so much harder to get right.”
Today we’re going to play a little word game to set the tone for this fine Sunday (at least here on the Athenian Riviera) and guide us through the days, weeks and months ahead. Ready, readers? Here we go!
Lojel
This Hong Kong-based luggage brand might not (yet) have the fame of a bigger German label in the wheels business but just you wait. With a more competitive price point and a growing distribution network, the company is becoming recognised as a leader and innovator in the top-opening space. In simple terms, it means that you don’t have to look for a flat expanse to crack open your clamshell wheely. Instead, you can just zip it open from the top and avoid the explosion of socks, tees and undies while still saving on space – particularly in rooms that don’t have the dimensions or common sense to offer proper space for hard-side luggage.
Kikiya
If you find yourself in Tokyo now or over the coming months then make your way to the newish Takanawa Gateway City development and secure a perch at Kikiya. This 60-seat counter set-up reinvents the classic beef bowl with a selection of premium cuts and an array of accompanying dishes. They also pour a crisp, dry koshu white from Yamanashi. Go late when it’s a bit quieter and more relaxed.
Timsum
If you want a perfect table for eight outside in Nihonbashi that pairs great wines with dim sum and excellent service, then ring up and reserve. For now the crowd is local, so avoid over-sharing this little tip.
Margot
This is a woman who deserves the Monocle Service Award for Diplomacy, Enforcement and Charm. On my Etihad flight from Tokyo to Abu Dhabi on Wednesday evening, Margot (a Filipina flight attendant of the old school) was taking no prisoners when it came to inconsiderate passengers watching their HBO shows without headphones or chatting to colleagues as if they were working from home. Thanks to Starlink and ever-faster connectivity on board, digital indecency is likely to become a bigger in-flight flashpoint than drunken British hen parties to Portugal.
6-0
On Friday, an Emirati gentleman of senior rank came up to me to offer a word of thanks. “Thank you my Canadian brother for thumping Qatar.” It even came with a fist bump.
Lisbon
By now you will have seen that the Portuguese capital will play host to the 10th edition of our Quality of Life Conference and the stunning Gulbenkian will be the backdrop. The conference is timed to work with North American Labo(u)r Day and we’ll be opening up the best of the city as we bring the sharpest minds to the stage for discussion of what makes for the best possible life in urban centres, whether massive or mid-size. All your favourite editors will be onstage and possibly in swimwear for a side trip down to Comporta.
Astir Beach
Need a jolt to get into your summer groove? I can recommend a set of loungers at the Astir Beach Club in Vouliagmeni, south of Athens. The staff are polite and fast, the guests mostly local and the sea superb. You can even stay at The Ilisian (check our wares and those from our brother company Trunk at The Store at The Ilisian) and pop down for the day for some sunshine and assyrtiko.
And on the topic of retail, three letters for you: ZRH. We’re back for the summer season at Zürich Airport – right outside the main Swiss business class lounge.
Enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’? Click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns.
In the town of Avilés, northern Spain, a collection of eight large-scale voile fabrics printed with blue cyanotypes hangs in a former fish market. Fittingly for the marine setting, one of the fabrics shows the silhouette of a pile of prawns. The artist behind the installation, Agnes Essonti, says the image draws from her ancestry in Cameroon – named by 15th-century Portuguese conquistadors after camarões (prawns) for the region’s abundance of shellfish.
Barcelona-based Essonti is among the 40-plus artists exhibiting in Spain’s new Bienal Climática, an exhibition on view until 20 September that seeks to connect contemporary art with ecological and industrial issues. Ingredients such as cocoa, sugar cane and okra also feature in Essonti’s project, which she says relates to how food is “affected by the eco-social crisis that we’re going through”.
The new climate biennial was thought up by Atelier ITD, a Madrid-based foundation that develops collaborative projects around issues including the environment, employment and demographic change. Atelier ITD secured €1m in funding from the Spanish government to produce the new event, which it sees as part of Avilés’s wider regeneration, and hopes to reach some 90,000 visitors across its three-month span.
“Art has a role to play in times like these,” says artistic director Amanda Masha Caminals, who curated existing work and artworks in progress to fit the exhibition’s themes, which include weather phenomena, industrialisation and the emotional aspects of ecological transition. Artists have also been chosen to participate in residencies that will produce new works for the biennial. The showcase unfolds across 13 venues spread out across Avilés and nearby areas – many of which are current or former industrial sites. Future iterations of the biennial are planned for other Spanish cities.
Home to approximately 75,000 inhabitants, Avilés is the third-largest municipality in the principality of Asturias. The 1950s and 1960s saw a boom of industries such as steel, zinc, aluminium and glass. It drew workers from across Spain but also turned Avilés into one of Europe’s most polluted cities. “Industry sacrificed the city’s identity,” says Mayor Mariví Monteserin Rodríguez. “It devastated the environment, degraded the air and river, and hid the city’s heritage under a layer of dirt.”
Several local artists engage with this legacy while incorporating Asturian folklore and agricultural traditions. At Factoría Cultural (a former clothing factory), Avilés-born Alba Matilla’s video-projection triptych was inspired by a local legend about a mystical fog that engulfed helpless wanderers. She has reimagined the fog as industrial smoke billowing from factories. At Palacio de Camposagrado, an installation by Sara García features dresses decorated with tear-shaped bread, while a video shows bread offerings being ceremonially placed in nature to highlight how this staple has been polluted by chemically assisted mass production.
Over the past couple of years, Avilés has been part of an initiative to decarbonise industrial manufacturing across several midsize European cities. For the biennial, it was important to make sense of the transition through art while acknowledging how much industrial manufacturing has shaped the city. “Industry is a source of pollution”, says Masha Caminals, “but it is also part of the identity and sustenance of many people in this region.”
To connect with the city’s industrial identity, the biennial set up one of its displays in steel company Arcelormittal’s training centre. Asunción Molinos Gordo’s textile wall piece, made of 52 species of sheepswool, questions the notions of purity that underpin modern agriculture, economy and society. Works by Elena Lavellés and Olmo Cuña consider the transition towards green hydrogen, while Gabriela Bettini’s painting focuses on an open-cast copper mine on the border between Chile and Bolivia that has deteriorated the land’s topography. The same venue also hosts artists from outside Spain, including Singapore’s Priyageetha Dia, who explores rubber plantations in Southeast Asia, and Jordan-born Lawrence Abu Hamdan, who looks at Israeli wind farming projects in Golan Heights, Syria.
A similar event, Klima Biennale Wien, launched in Vienna in 2024. Such initiatives diverge from the conventional biennial model, which is now notorious for its heavy carbon footprint. The model was “built for a different era”, privileging spectacular displays and international movement without considering their impacts, says the director of the Austrian event, Sithara Pathirana. Changing the system also entails more than exhibiting environment-related art: “If the content is about ecological transformation, the container has to change too,” says Pathirana. “Otherwise it’s just greenwashing with better wall texts.”
Bienal Climática, however, doesn’t claim to pressure anyone into closed conclusions. “It’s not a lobby,” explains Masha Caminals. “It’s a meeting place between agents who probably wouldn’t cross paths otherwise.” By engaging on a local level and celebrating contemporary artists’ capacity for envisioning alternative futures, the initiative is out to show how culture can contribute to a city’s ecological changes. “Art won’t give us magical solutions,” the artistic director continues. “It can’t erase conflicts – but it can give us the tools to inhabit them together.”
bienalclimatica.org
As summery music goes, Káryyn has the kind of glacier-cool falsetto that could help to bring down the temperature. In her pop songs, R&B and glitchy beats meet soaring vocals, experimental electronics and 3D sonics, like an ice sculpture splintering into shards only to fuse back together with the listener at the centre.
Káryyn’s refreshing style has won over heavyweights of the avant-garde. Her 2019 debut album, The Quanta Series, explored her American-Armenian-Syrian heritage and she has just released her second, Physics Universal Love Language (PULL). Its songs are inspired by Buddhism, neuroplasticity, works by folklorist Alan Lomax and Princess Peach from the Super Mario Brothers video-game franchise. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg: a thread of female empowerment runs through her work. It’s complex, Káryyn explains while sitting in a London café, having just arrived from Los Angeles and often breaking into song to illustrate her point. “Brevity is a book that I need to read,” she says.
PULL took nearly two decades to finish. It has a stellar cast of collaborators, including producers James Ford, Hudson Mohawke and mix engineer Marta Salogni. They helped to fine-tune the album’s layered sound, though Káryyn is also the album’s executive producer. “It sounds the way it sounds because of me,” she says. It’s an intense, immersive listen. “I want everyone to be able to feel this.”
You started writing this album a long time ago. Was revisiting the songs like reopening an old diary?
I worked on this album for 16 years but it’s not [made up of] old songs. I collaborate with my past, present and future self every year. Why did it take so long? It just is what it is. What even is an album cycle, when songs that came out 10 years ago are going ‘boom’ [on Tiktok]. I believe that everything has its perfect timing.
Your music is very visceral. How do you visualise it?
Every sound I hear has a texture or a colour. I’m now understanding that I have something called synaesthesia. I always feel this way. When someone has an emotion, I see the emotion. All I’m doing is painting with words, so every part of this production helps to serve what [the voice] is saying and feeling.
There’s a lot of emotional intensity on this album. How far were you willing to go?
I am not afraid of being cringey. What I’ve made is for people who want to feel their emotions. That has to be the purpose of my life – not about being fabulous or being seen. I play a show and people tell me that they felt their feelings, that they could sit with what they couldn’t before. That’s it.
Were you tempted to experiment with AI for this record?
Definitely not. This album is about being human.
The styling in your album artwork is striking. What did you envisage?
Fashion tells a story on this album. I’m thinking a lot about the suffragette era and the 1800s, women selling their bodies and corsets. [The album is] about empowerment and becoming a grounded woman who owns her sexuality. She’s in control of it and she can reveal it. I wanted the revolutionary jacket because of the human revolution that I’ve gone through, from child to woman.
What else will you be wearing during the warmer months?
Erdem is a longtime obsession – that painterly romanticism with real structure underneath. Right now, I’m living in vintage silhouettes from the 1880s to 1910s and anything cut with a Japanese menswear sensibility. I lean toward a sculptural, deep-coloured wardrobe with a bit of armour to it. In the heat, my go-to is Parisian eyewear brand Izipizi, which is cheap and charming.
What kind of artist are you at home?
I am in my room reading. When I was younger, I was running around at all the shows. [These days] I’m in my room with my TVs. I’ve got a camera feeding [a] TV. I’ve got Blade Runner on [on another]. I like the hum of the DVD player. I’ve got my Nintendo 64 if I get bored. I love analogue stuff because it’s tactile. For me, it’s always been about this idea of the past, present, future of technology. It’s all interconnected.
What about your summer plans?
I’m splitting my time between London, Berlin and Yerevan, where I’ll be playing on 26 June. It’ll be a kind of homecoming, given my Armenian roots, so there’ll be family, mountains and a lot of long tables in the late light.
And for summer listening, which records will you have on repeat?
Journey in Satchidananda, Alice Coltrane
Summer needs something devotional and weightless. This [album is] warm air made audible.
Keyboard Fantasies, Beverly Glenn-Copeland
It feels like driving with the windows down at dusk.
World of Echo, Arthur Russell
A cello, a voice and a lot of space. Intimate and a little oceanic, perfect for the hour between day and night.
And something from home: Nancy Ajram, always.
Last week, while catching up with a friend under the low lights of an east London restaurant, she suddenly announced that she had split up with her partner (writes Rory Jones). A four-year relationship, burned away with the quick intensity of flashpaper. I asked why. She played the hits: lack of communication, different life stages, et cetera. But then she added, “He also started consulting ChatGPT about everything, as though I had no answers or opinions.”
We managed to laugh but a lingering confusion plagued my journey home. Are people actually prioritising AI over their partners? Apparently, yes: it’s happening and the numbers are increasing. In Los Angeles, AI-related “virtual infidelity” is now cited as a contributing factor in three to five divorce cases a week.
I’m not an AI user and lament the idea that it is being used to cut corners in the creative arts – particularly writing. But when did some people start turning to chatbots instead of those around them to answer their everyday questions? What makes matters worse is that ultimately unnecessary musings such as “Why is the sky blue?”, “What’s the difference between a mongoose and a meerkat?” and “Where actually is Amarillo?” are incredibly resource-draining. AI data centres are consuming water at unprecedented scales. A recent Morgan Stanley report forecasts that they will drive annual water consumption to more than a trillion litres by 2028, an 11-fold increase on 2024 figures. It’s worth wondering how many prompts are genuinely productive.
ChatGPT and others might have instant access to a breadth of knowledge that your partner doesn’t. But my advice? Take them to dinner. Look them in the eyes. Ask them your pointless questions instead. Let them make up an answer and believe whatever they say, right or wrong. You might just save the planet as a result. Or, at least, your relationship.
Now, I wasn’t going to tell you this but I have to be honest with you, even if this tale does underline my reputation for misplacing just about anything. Here goes.
As the flight from Madrid to Montevideo reached its cruising altitude and the fasten-seatbelts sign was switched off, I set about organising my quarters for the next 12 hours. Pen, notebook and headphones were lined up to use. Next, I needed to charge my phone. But as I picked it up, it leapt from my grasp like a runaway mouse and darted through a gap at the side of the seat. At first, I could just see it resting upright on a little ledge but with just one touch of my pinkie finger it skedaddled out of sight, off to be the Perse-iPhone of the aircraft’s underworld.
It only took a minute for a steward to come and see why I was scrambling on the floor like Gollum while shouting “my precious!” Taking in the gravity of the problem, he secured from his colleagues a torch and a pair of tongs usually used to take reheated chicken from the ovens in the galley kitchen. A gentleman of some considerable height, he lay on the floor to try and literally shine some light on the situation. He attempted a recumbent poking investigation with his tongs. However, as he stood up, he had a look on his face that, if he were a doctor about to give his diagnosis, would make you think that you should get your affairs in order.
He reassured me, however, that the issue would now be reported to the captain who would message ahead to Montevideo. The plane would not be allowed to make its return journey until my phone was freed from its subterranean lair. I suddenly wondered how watertight my travel insurance was because it would be hard to get the cost of a grounded airplane through on expenses.
Yet my steward was not the sort of person who shied from a challenge. Every 20 minutes or so I would spot him back lying on the floor next to me and sporting yet another potential extraction tool. One time he came with a litter picker but it was too fat to wedge under the seat. Later, I stirred from a nap to find him waggling a coat hanger beneath my perch. Sadly, another failure. There was an attempt at pulling up the carpet with the aid of some teaspoons. I tried to assist but just buckled the cutlery and, anyway, he seemed reluctant to accept the assistance of someone who had already caused enough problems for one flight.
By now all the crew seemed to have heard the story of the man in 4A and soon a more seasoned steward arrived to offer his services. He confidently flipped up the cushioning on my seat and dived into the void below by dangling over the backrest, while his tall colleague held on to his calves to prevent him vanishing into the underworld. My issue was by now capturing the attention of all around – passengers pausing their movies. I tried to look nonchalant. But still, no phone.
Next, with the aid of a screwdriver, the senior steward removed part of the seat’s undercarriage. He located a runaway water bottle, a pair of men’s reading glasses, a supermarket-worth of mini biscuits and chocolates and a mariachi band that had vanished on a flight to Mexico City some months ago. Yet still, no phone.
Then I had my first bright idea. I had signed in to the wifi before take-off, so if my travelling companion and co-worker Rebecca phoned me, perhaps the screen would light up, revealing where it was secreted under the tangle of cables and machinery. It worked. My phone sent out an illuminated rescue signal.
The steward surgeons set to work with new hope in their hearts while I stood in the aisle offering words of encouragement and occasional updates to the cabin.
One gent wrapped gaffer tape, sticky side out, around his hand in a bid to make the phone attach itself to his fingers. But he was a little too big to get far enough under the seat. Step forward Rebecca. Under she went. “I can see it!” she exclaimed. “What I need now is a pen,” she added like a heart surgeon asking for a scalpel. A moment later, “I’ve got it!”
And out she backed, phone held aloft. There were high-fives between the four of us. Hugs too. We were as elated as rescuers who managed to bring a lost miner back to the earth’s surface. “We were a team!” said the more senior steward, before looking at Rebecca and conceding, “But you scored the goal.” All saw me less as the star striker and more as an aged cheerleader. Sadly, I had no pompoms to hand.
So next time you settle into an airline seat, remember that beneath you lies a miniature archaeological dig. Also, never let go of your phone, unless you want to cause an engineering incident at 40,000 feet.
