Writer Solvej Balle achieved literary stardom in her native Denmark with the publication of her 1993 novel Ifølge loven. Today, that fame has spread with the English-language translation of her series On the Calculation of Volume. The first volume was shortlisted for the International Booker Prize 2025 earlier this year.

While the books have been decades in the making, the narrative revolves around only a single day. The story follows an antiquarian bookkeeper named Tara Selter, who is stuck reliving 18 November. You might think that re-experiencing the same day is dull but in Balle’s hands, it is always compelling. 

Here, Balle discusses her unique time-loop narrative, whether the novel is a love story and why she picked 18 November.

You began writing the series 10 years after deciding on the title. Had you already planned that this would be a seven-book series? At what point did you realise there was so much material in a single day?
I initially thought that it would just be a novel. But that’s a very vague term, isn’t it? I knew it wouldn’t be a short story and I thought of it as a single book. I wrote bits and pieces at the start – just fragments. After I began writing it properly, around 1999 or 2000, I envisioned it as a two-volume book. Later, I imagined that there would be four. I realised in about 2017 that there would be seven books when I started to see very different pieces, all with certain themes or atmospheres. 

Has writing the series changed how you experience time in the real world? 
Yes, especially with ageing. I have grown nearly 40 years older over that time. I knew early on that Tara Selter was going to be there for a long time and that she would age. At first I was trying to understand what it meant to age but it’s hard when you are 25 or 26. I interviewed people and asked them what it is like. Later on, as I started to see signs of ageing on myself, I thought, ‘Oh my goodness, this is research.’ I had to understand firsthand what it’s like to have an ageing body to write the story. 

Did you ever have any doubts about whether the concept of repeating the same day would work?
I certainly knew from the beginning that it was a stupid idea. I tried to throw it out many times because in the 1980s, there was a certain doubt about writing from a concept. I often felt that I had to let go of it but it kept coming back. I realised that there was something in it that I wanted to know more about – the philosophy of the repetition; what happens if the day repeats itself. 

I hadn’t yet seen the film Groundhog Day because it didn’t exist at the time, so I never thought that things would simply click back – that everything would be the same each day. I knew that Tara would age and that she would move from place to place. When I finally watched Groundhog Day, I was certain that I wouldn’t write it in the same way. It felt as though someone had researched for me about how not to do this. There were so many philosophical questions in it that I wanted to embark on. And if ever I felt bored, I would let it go. I’ve started many projects and I believe that when you start something, you’re not required to finish it. If it can’t keep you ticking, there’s no point. 

To what extent do you look at the books as stories about relationships as much as they are a philosophical reflection on the meaning of time?
I thought of the first book as nothing other than a love story. But suddenly, all sorts of details came in that were not part of the plan. It is as if the love story were dissolved in the mechanics of time. 

What was your reason behind the choice of the date? 
Originally, the date was 17 October. I thought that for a very long time, even after I began writing the story 25 years ago. Yesterday, I was sitting near the sea and looking up at a cloudless October sky. I have had this feeling many times: October is too crisp, too sharp and too clear. I needed something more blurred. There was too much machinery in October and when I landed on 18 November, I realised that it worked much better. November gives more than it promises. We don’t expect much of it, so when it gives us something wonderful, we are rather surprised because it’s the kind of month that we need to get through.

You’re now working on the final book of the series. How does it feel to approach saying goodbye to a project that has been so significant in your life? 
Some time ago, I would have said, ‘It’s great that I can see the end of it because I’ve been working on it for so long.’ But I’m not sure. I think I will miss Tara Selter, though I don’t think she will miss me. 

The American West has held the US in a kind of cultural trance of late. It’s visible in the collections on runways, the perverse popularity of rodeos and the resurrection of heritage bootmakers but, above all, in the extraordinary reach of a TV series, Taylor Sheridan’s Yellowstone. Few cultural products have done more to revive the archetype of the ranch: the hardscaping of land, the management of herds and rough justice meted out under vast skies. Sheridan didn’t just create a hit, he also reminded Americans of a myth that they already knew.

But those myths rest on extraction of land, resources and animals whose value has traditionally been measured in yield. The frontier, for all its cinematic beauty, was never harmless. So it is interesting to watch a handful of properties in the contemporary West experimenting with a different approach, one that doesn’t require abandoning the ranch entirely but fundamentally rethinking what it means.

The Lodge at Blue Sky, Auberge Collection – 35 minutes from Park City by car – is one such place. At first glance, it’s every inch the classic Western property, with some 1,400 hectares of open rangeland, barns and paddocks, as well as interiors that feature timber, stone and oversized fireplaces. You’d almost expect to stumble on a branding pen or cattle chute. Instead, the main animal population is a herd of rescued horses. Rather than the usual ranch work – breeding, managing, and preparing livestock for market – the daily rhythm is orientated around welfare and rehabilitation.

The programme is led by Blue Sky owner and horsewoman Barb Phillips. Many horses arrive anxious, exhibiting behaviours that stem from years of mishandling or overuse. Guests aren’t invited to saddle up and conquer terrain but to participate in quieter activities, from learning to read equine body language to accompanying a horse on a walk. Stand tensely and they retreat. Breathe deeply and they soften. The relationship is a striking inversion of the frontier narrative in which breaking in a horse was the point.

The familiar props of Western life remain in place – leather tack, timber fences and that big-sky backdrop – but their meaning shifts entirely. What was once a theatre of control becomes a setting for repair. The work is restorative and this subtle reframing produces a different atmosphere altogether.

It mirrors a broader societal turn. As Americans re-engage with the West, there’s a growing appetite for experiences that feel grounded rather than performative, more attuned to stewardship than domination. Travellers are looking beyond cowboy cosplay toward properties with genuine purpose. The success of properties such as Brush Creek in Wyoming or Montana’s Ranch at Rock Creek – places that balance luxury with land conservation – suggests that the market is ready for this evolution.

Blue Sky belongs to this emerging category: spaces that acknowledge Western ideals but decline to re-enact their more troubling past. The property still offers fly-fishing and mountain biking, and serves whiskey by the fire. But at its core is this radical reorientation toward care rather than conquest.

The West will always trade on romance – it’s part of the landscape’s power. But it’s refreshing to find a ranch where frontier spirit isn’t expressed through extraction. Perhaps the next chapter of Western storytelling might not be about taming anything at all but learning to meet it on an equal footing. After all, who wins by playing to yesterday’s script?

Colin Nagy is an LA-based journalist and regular Monocle contributor. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Ask anyone in the Philippines when they celebrate Christmas and they will tell you, “September to December”. That means, by now, one of Southeast Asia’s only Christian-majority countries should be well into its four-month festive extravaganza. Usually, halls are fully decked with holly and calendars are bulging with plans. But something is up. Christmas is amiss and joy is in short supply. 
 
Visiting Cebu City this week, I saw no decorations whatsoever. My treeless hotel lobby was completely bare of tinsel and there was not one bauble or Santa hat on display at any of the airport check-in desks. This is in stark contrast to regional neighbour Singapore, where decorations have gone into overdrive, echoing a general trend in Europe for Christmas creep. The reason for this lack of Filipino joy? A torrent of bad news.

The typhoon-prone archipelago has recently been hammered by several superstorms and the damage from these natural disasters has been exacerbated by a corruption scandal that saw money for critical infrastructure flood into lawmakers’ bank accounts. With recovery efforts ongoing, president Ferdinand Marcos Jr has ordered government agencies to keep their Christmas parties “simple” and save on their end-of-year celebrations. Showing respect for and solidarity with people’s suffering is an understandable gesture; appropriate even. An official belt-tightening exercise might also have seemed like a shrewd political calculation to placate an angry, graft-weary public. But curtailing Christmas is a huge gamble and unseasonal thrift could end up making the situation worse.
 
Large corporations are said to be following the government’s lead, scaling back festivities for fear of reputational repercussions. That collective bah humbug is damaging. Cutting back on boozy staff parties and dinners is not just bad for companies’ morale, it also deprives the hard-hit hospitality sector of an all-important revenue stream. Retail and restaurants suffer. And tourists lose out too. At this time of year, the Philippines is usually a magical place to visit, with a combination of ostentatious Catholic ceremony and traditional ornamentation. Prescribing a simple, quiet Christmas to this fun-loving country that is struggling is a massive misstep – the political equivalent of handing out lumps of coal. 
 
What Filipinos really need after a challenging year is a double helping of cheer with all the trimmings. Fortunately, there’s still plenty of time for a Christmas miracle in Manila. Marcos needs to show some festive spirit and, more importantly, a bit of political pragmatism. For inspiration, he need only look to the Thais, who are similarly down at heel right now. Thailand has had a horrible year to rival that of the Philippines and the government in Bangkok has made it clear that the end-of-year shows and festivals must go on (when the Queen Mother died, a sold-out Blackpink show still went ahead). No matter one’s opinion on ever-encroaching commercial cheer, ‘tis the season to be jolly, after all. 
 
James Chambers is Monocle’s Asia editor. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Singapore 
Residents and occasional visitors to the microstate might recall our little bureau/boutique/café operation in a modernist townhouse in Chip Bee Gardens. As far-flung outposts go, it still ranks as the best set-up we’ve ever had – solid, low-rise architecture, tonnes of greenery and a functional upstairs-downstairs division between editorial functions, retail and coffees on the front terrace. While in Singapore last week, I did a little spin around to see how the neighbourhood has developed since we left and was looking forward to visiting nearby Thambi’s to pick up some mags and papers. I asked the driver to pull up around the corner and grab a coffee while I toured Holland Village. As I rounded the food hall, I momentarily thought that I’d lost my bearings. Where was the Thambi awning? Was it one street over? Had they relocated to the fancy new Sekisui House development? This was definitely where I had last left it a few years ago and yet it had vanished.

I did a quick search on my phone to see where they’d moved and was greeted by an alarming story from 2024 about the Thambi Magazine Store shuttering after 80 years in business. How could it be? Where were Singaporeans and expats going to buy their FT Weekend, Le Monde diplomatique and sunburnt copies of Die Zeit? I returned to the car a bit deflated. I guess there’s always Books Kinokuniya for magazines and a clutch of specialist shops but Thambi’s was a proper little institution. Japan’s new PM is advocating for support to preserve local bookshops. Could it be time for magazine stores in Singapore and elsewhere to be granted some form of cultural protection and support? I say yes. 

Hong Kong 
Repulse Bay is one of those little enclaves where I like to play the “could I live here?” game. If you’ve not been to the other side of Hong Kong Island, Repulse Bay is a well-heeled community of villas and high-rises, beachy cafés and leathery locals living the good life on the South China Sea. I ventured over last Saturday morning to check on developments at The Repulse Bay Arcade – a vaguely colonial-inspired, open-air shopping and dining project. Set in a larger complex run by the Kadoorie family (owners of The Peninsula Hotels), the arcade is going through an overhaul that is turning it into a new destination for brands that want Hong Kong’s deep pockets mixed with sunshine and tropical breezes. While Curry Up and Human Made have landed from Tokyo, the management has thankfully kept Bookazine as an essential part of the local mix. I was happy to see a full line-up of our titles on display and residents lined up to buy their WSJ and SCMP. Maybe Bookazine needs to open a branch in Singapore’s Holland Village? 

Tokyo 
Magazine House does exactly what it says on the label – they make magazines. Very, very good magazines. Perhaps the best collection of titles in the world: Popeye, Brutus, Casa Brutus, Premium, Hanako and many more. The Japanese publisher is celebrating its 80th anniversary and just wrapped an exhibition in Tokyo’s Ginza district that mixed an amazing display of covers, a huge selection of back issues for purchase and lots of additional merch to mark the occasion. Just as Condé Nast and Hearst can be credited with defining a certain aesthetic in their fashion titles and championing journalism in their golden years, Magazine House has played a similar role on this side of the Pacific. If there’s one media player that keeps me on my toes and never ceases to inspire, it’s the talented crew of editors at this Tokyo publishing powerhouse. Congratulations from your fans at Monocle!

Enjoying life in ‘The Faster Lane’? Click here to browse all of Tyler’s past columns. 

As Southeast Asia’s creative economy continues to grow at pace, the Philippines is making significant strides as a hub for lifestyle and fashion brands with global ambitions. Manila’s annual design, culture and creativity marketplace, Purveyr Fair, spotlights local businesses on the path to rapid growth. Part trade fair, part talent scout, Purveyr has become a key stage for brands to find new markets for both sales and investment. It has grown from showcasing 20 homegrown brands in 2016 to platforming more than 125 at its latest edition. In order to house this year’s event, its biggest ever, Purveyr had to expand into Manila’s World Trade Centre Tent.

Beyond retail, the fair has become an incubator space where creative entrepreneurs test products and meet investors. Founder Marvin Conanan believes that it’s this mix of commerce and community that sets Purveyr apart. Here he walks Monocle through the Philippines’ creative economy, the new generation of Filipino shoppers, the brands to watch and the opportunities still untapped.

What led to launching Purveyr?
We started as a blog. The goal was to share independent brands and street culture in the Philippines with more people. From covering local spaces for fashion, music, art and design, the vision grew to encompass other methods of helping them to grow and develop. Our first foray into hosting a fair was in a 200 sq m co-working space. About 300 people attended.

What are the key retail and consumer trends that you’re seeing in Manila?
Reflecting global shifts, vintage and secondhand retail has taken root in Manila’s youth culture, as pop-ups and fairs breathe new life into the local fashion scene. With exposure to so much more online nowadays, consumers are more informed and more deeply engaged with the products that they buy, the shops they visit, the brands they connect with and the spaces they make time for.

What are the biggest challenges facing Filipino brands trying to scale up?
Online congestion. Establishing a space online is easy – getting noticed is the real challenge. On a positive note, the maturity of the Filipino consumer and their developed interest in local brands means that the market has grown considerably. There are now more than enough customers to go around – as our most recent fair has demonstrated.

Where are the biggest gaps and opportunities for investment and support in Manila?
There’s a lot missing but perhaps the most significant are private funding and government support. Filipino creatives are left to survive and thrive on their own and this includes the capital-intensive fashion industry. Where opportunities exist, they are rarely long-term. Fashion labels and brands need time to mature, so it takes long-term support and planning to really make a difference.

And finally, Christmas is coming. What Filipino brands should we be buying?
If I had to choose three brands: Carl Jan Cruz, Don’t Blame The Kids and Proudrace. Each has been in the game for quite some time and carved its own path in the industry. Don’t Blame The Kids expanded through numerous collaborations and licensing agreements with global brands – it’s now the most mainstream of the three. Carl Jan Cruz is known for its technical and cultural approach to making clothes, weaving Filipino stories and culture into collections through quality fabrication and design. And lastly, Proudrace has always been recognised as a label to follow by local and global voices, with its understanding of popular culture and creative Manileños. All three are now globally present through retailers, pop-ups and collaborations.

Jewellery brand Bulgari is carving out an unexpected foothold in the hospitality space. Its expansion into the world of hotels and resorts is, according to the Bulgari’s executive vice-president, Silvio Ursini, an extension of the company’s expertise in seeking out the exquisite, whether it be diamonds or properties. Now, the Roman house is setting its sights on Bodrum, where a collection of 100 private residences and a hotel resort is currently under construction and set to open in 2027.  

“Perhaps the fact that we’re not hungry for success is the reason for our success,” says Ursini when Monocle meets him for coffee in Bodrum’s Macakizi Hotel overlooking the Aegean Sea. “If [opportunity] comes, it comes. If it doesn’t, no problem” Ursini adds, his tan and sunglasses embodying a certain Mediterranean ease. “No rush – just patience and consistency. Many luxury brands are under pressure to grow but we actually find that the less we do, the happier we are.” 

That nonchalance masks a record of steady expansion and considerable achievements. Since joining in 1989, Ursini has overseen the family company’s expansion into a global brand and led its move into hospitality with the 2004 launch of the label’s first hotel in Milan. Over the course of two decades, its single-hotel project has evolved into properties in Bali, London, Paris, Dubai, Shanghai, Beijing, Tokyo and Rome, with Miami, the Maldives and the Bahamas next in line.

In Bodrum, Bulgari Resort & Mansions perches on a peninsula in the seaside neighbourhood of Türkbükü. The 84-key hotel features beach clubs, bars, restaurants, a wellness centre, a gymnasium, an amphitheatre for events, as well as a complex of 100 private residences. The villas – which range from three- to six-bedroom properties – all boast a view of the sea and a pool (although only a select few have direct access to the shore). 

But building in paradise comes with its planning headaches. The peninsula in question belongs to Ahen, a property company owned by Turkish businessman Mehmet Cengiz, founder of Cengiz Holdings. Bulgari’s arrival in Bodrum sparked rumours of deforestation, with videos of bulldozers excavating ancient Greek statues circulating on social media. Ursini dismisses it all. “The controversy was based on made-up facts,” he says. “I walked the whole site before we started. There was not a single tree because of the peninsula’s high exposure to wind. And, my God, there were no Greek statues. We’re building something that is only half as dense as it could be, and the landscape will be richer than before. Irrigation will be supplied with recycled water. Rosemary, thyme, sage, bougainvillaea – all of these plants will attract pollinators.” 

Sustainability runs through Ursini’s plans, which were developed with ACPV Architects, the Milanese firm founded by Patricia Viel and Antonio Citterio, longstanding Bulgari collaborators. Green roofs will provide thermal insulation, while architectural screens and awnings will create welcome shade. Electric shuttles will be integrated throughout the complex for transportation, reducing noise and pollution. 

Monocle hops aboard a boat with Ursini to visit the first completed villa. As the sun sets, Patricia Viel greets us with champagne and a tour. A modest and somewhat unassuming entrance spills into a beautiful space. Built into a slope with a top-floor entrance, the flat-roofed rectilinear structures initially disguise their showpiece – but then you step inside and are met with the vast expanse of sea and sky. “The horizontal dimension gives the mansions a landscape installation-like quality. Then you push open the door – and wow,” says Viel. 

Inside, teak, brass and travertine provide a gentle material consistency. The sand-hued Denizli travertine used throughout the interiors is sourced from a local Turkish quarry and articulated in various finishes. Meanwhile, the open-plan layout and floor-to-ceiling windows blur the boundary between the outside and inside. 

The communal spaces mix art and ceramics from Turkey with Italian furniture. Pieces from Maxalto, B&B Italia and Flexform mingle with lighting fixtures from Flos. There’s a Molteni&C Dada Engineered kitchen and a Technogym fitness room. The result is a pleasing combination of cosmopolitan verve and Mediterranean tranquillity. 

Viel cites the golden age of Italian design and cinema of the 1950s and 1960s as guiding influences. “The era founded the country’s visibility on the international stage,” she says. “[Ursini and I] talk about these homes as if we are movie directors. We imagine things happening, such as the owners coming back from their boat at a specific time of the day or spending time in the garden, and the moment they transition from the outdoors to indoors.”

Viel’s tour hints at the significant scale still to come: 100 more Bulgari residence villas, plus a hotel, beach club and a Niko Romit0-led restaurant for summer 2027. It’s a development that marks a new ultra-luxe chapter for the design house as it bets big on Bodrum – and declares that its future lies beyond jewellery cases.
bulgarihotels.com

As the war in Gaza enters its third year, tensions between Israel and the United Nations remain fraught. UN agencies have faced frequent blockages in providing aid and documenting Israel’s attacks and human-rights violations. Francesca Albanese, the UN’s special rapporteur on the occupied Palestinian territories, has been one of the crisis’s most outspoken voices – and one of its most controversial. Barred by Israel from entering the region and sanctioned by the US, Albanese spoke to Monocle Radio’s Chris Cermak from Rome, where she shared her view on the UN’s diminished role in the conflict and what hope remains. Here are some of the highlights from the conversation.

The below has been edited for length and clarity. Listen to the full conversation with Francesca Albanese on ‘The Briefing’ on Monocle Radio. 

On the current situation in Gaza:
“The Gaza Strip has suffered the most violent military campaign in modern history. While it is great that the carpet bombing has stopped with the ceasefire, the fires have not. Nearly 250 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli bombs and sniper fire since the truce began and humanitarian aid, which was supposed to be delivered, has not been entering. Yes, the UN has begun operating again but more than half of the Gaza Strip remains occupied by the Israeli army – and it is building infrastructure, which makes me think that it intends to stay.”

About investigating a conflict in a region that she is barred from entering:
“Israel has prevented special rapporteurs from entering the occupied Palestinian territories since 2008, so that is nothing new. I have chosen to report at the meta level: to describe systemic and widespread actions and point to the systems and reasons behind them. I have written four reports: two to the UN Human Rights Council and two to the UN General Assembly. They document the genocide and the reasons behind it, those who are profiting from it and why it hasn’t been stopped. If you read the last report, you’ll see that the genocide in Gaza is a collective crime. Israel has not acted alone: various UN member states have provided weapons to Israel. In fact, 26 nations have been directly or indirectly connected to the Israeli military industry.”

On the future of governance in the Palestinian territories:
“I understand that the relationship between Israel and Hamas seems like a binary one, especially from the perspective of a Western audience. But Hamas has long been a problematic organisation for Palestinians. I travelled to Gaza in the years immediately following Hamas’s takeover and I can tell you that there was a sense of frustration, which has since grown. And today, the problem is not just with Hamas or the Palestinian authority – it’s with the reality that refuses to give Palestinians the freedom to choose for themselves. Hamas would be less of a problem if the people of Palestine were allowed to determine their own future.”

On the UN’s future role in the Middle East:
“The UN is being destroyed piece by piece due to the assault on Gaza. The war has exposed the institution’s lack of capacity as well as its lack of centrality in interpreting the law, enforcing the law and using all the available mechanisms to prevent conflicts. This is evident in the case of Palestine but it isn’t any different if you look at the other 55-plus conflicts currently going on in the world. From Ukraine to Sudan, the UN has been completely sidelined.”

Listen to the full interview on the Thursday 13 November episode of ‘The Briefing’ on Monocle Radio.

Is the age of the star photographer coming to an end? This week we organised a sort of school trip, taking a team of editors and writers from Monocle to see the Lee Miller show at Tate Britain. It’s an exhibition that charts her life and work from New York and Paris to London and the concentration camps of Dachau and Buchenwald. There are the surrealist images that Miller made when she and Man Ray were partners in art and love, pictures from when she was living in Egypt and portraits of life-long friends such as Pablo Picasso. And, of course, the now iconic image of Miller in Adolf Hitler’s bathtub, taken in 1945 when she and fellow photographer David Scherman gained entry to the Nazi leader’s abandoned Munich apartment. Miller was 38 and had already lived and loved more than most. Her talent and fearlessness have subsequently made her the focus of numerous shows, books and the 2023 film Lee starring Kate Winslet.

As the London Underground train rattled us back to work, I wondered who would be the next Lee Millers. Who are the young photographers not only shaping news reportage and delivering era-defining fashion editorials or art photography but who are becoming known as stars beyond their industry? Who will get this kind of show one day in the future?

At Monocle, we work with amazing photographers revered within the media, the art world and by our readers. I also attend photo fairs and see numerous exhibitions but I couldn’t easily think of anyone under 50 who was heading for the sort of fame that might see them become a cultural icon (sorry). I asked our photography director and all our art team, and they listed numerous young photographers who they believe are capturing the age we live in – true stars in the game – but were stumped to suggest one whose moniker the public might recognise. I have asked a lot of people the same question this week and always without much success. 

In art photography the biggest stars today include Cindy Sherman, 71, Nan Goldin, 72, Andreas Gursky, 70, and Martin Parr, 73. If you asked someone to name a famous fashion photographer or a practitioner skilled at capturing modern Hollywood, they might say Annie Leibovitz, 76, or perhaps still go for David Bailey, 87. Or would they suggest Bruce Weber or Mario Testino – both septuagenarians. “What about Juergen Teller?” said one person to me very confidently. “Surely he must be under 50?” He’s 61.

Why, when there are probably more great photographers than ever, do they no longer seem set to become public figures? When it comes to conflict reporting, depicting the horrors of war as Lee Miller did, television and now social media has clearly come to dominate. Plus, of course, the way that wars are managed – there has been no single defining image of the war in Gaza because photographers were not allowed in. I cannot see how another Miller, Robert Capa or Don McCullin comes to the fore.

In fashion it was once Vogue or Vanity Fair that allowed photographers to become public figures, big stars. The former shaped Miller’s career. And it was thanks to the Condé Nast title that a twentysomething Bailey was already as famous as the models he shot (and dated). He even became, in addition to a Julio Cortázar short story, the inspiration for Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film Blow-Up. But while these titles are still powerful as digital players, the slow decline of their print editions means that they are not an easy route to fame for any new photographer. The older, big photographer beasts dominate the terrain.

Perhaps young photographers don’t even want to have this sort of scrutiny, to be in the spotlight. And perhaps there’s a positive trend to be spotted here – are galleries trying to elevate talent that’s been marginalised for too long, spreading the opportunity and focus? Maybe. But a shift has happened. In our image-saturated world, at a time when AI can leave us distrusting what we see, when everyone thinks they can take a great picture with their phone, the significance of the photographer is being challenged and the world seems less inclined to make space for new photographers to capture the public imagination.

To read more of Andrew’s columns, click here.

The return of the Dubai Airshow next week to Dubai World Central (DWC), the unfinished future home of the world’s largest airport, is symbolic.

The biennial show’s choreography will be familiar: fighter jets in elegant formation, wide-body aircraft snarling down the runway and helicopters slicing the air. But the real spectacle isn’t confined to the sky. It’s in the closed-door rooms where deals, partnerships and future routes are hammered out. The star attraction remains flying taxis – eVTOLs (electric vertical take-off and landing aircraft) will take pride of place with test demonstrations, mock-ups and operational briefings. Companies such as Joby Aviation and Archer are still pushing for a 2026 launch of eVTOL passenger services between Dubai and Abu Dhabi.

Such optimism invites scrutiny. Certification is complicated, battery density still falls short of commercial requirements and early users will probably only be those able to afford premium pricing. Still, few places can match the UAE’s capacity to build infrastructure at speed and holding the event at DWC only reinforces that momentum. The airshow functions as the sector’s deal-making furnace. Previous editions have seen tens of billions of dollars committed on the tarmac, wide-body orders, defence packages and long-term service agreements.

The full cast of aviation powerbrokers will be in attendance: Boeing and Airbus with their supply-chain headaches and stretched delivery schedules; Gulf carriers Emirates, Etihad and new player Riyadh Air pushing expansion and next-generation fleets; defence giants looking to secure long-horizon programmes; and aerospace companies breaking ground in the Middle East. It’s a gathering where strategy chiefs, government delegations, manufacturers and financiers mix with an unusual ease. Everyone understands that this is the room where tomorrow’s aviation map is drawn.

And for all the deals and strategy sessions behind the scenes, the airshow extends a hand to the public. The Skyview grandstand will again offer families a vantage point from which to observe the aerial acrobatics, a reminder that aviation can still enchant, even as the sector wrestles with its heaviest challenges.

Sustainability is likely to dominate corporate conversations – and the industry finally appears to be moving beyond platitudes and towards climate action instead. Dubai Airports is preparing a sustainability showcase for the event, highlighting operational innovations, energy-efficiency systems, waste-reduction measures and emerging propulsion options. Still, the broader sector is in a bind: sustainable aviation-fuel production is nowhere near scale, hydrogen is promising but distant and electrification is only beginning to consider short-haul mobility. The airshow will present glimpses of a greener future but also lay bare just how far from that horizon the commercial fleet remains.

Dubai Airshow 2025 arrives at a moment of flux in which technology is advancing faster than regulation can catch up. Ambition is everywhere. Scepticism is warranted. But the aviation industry should ready itself to witness the winds of change next week.

Inzamam Rashid is Monocle’s Gulf correspondent. For more opinion, analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle today.

Read next: Archer Aviation CEO Adam Goldstein on the race to put flying taxis into the sky

In 1988, 19-year-old British singer Tanita Tikaram achieved chart success and recognition across Europe with her debut album, Ancient Heart. The moody single “Twist in My Sobriety” became an enigmatic yet undeniably catchy late-night classic. In the years since, Tikaram has intermittently released new music, drifting in and out from under her early-won popstar crown. Now she returns with the new album LIAR (Love Isn’t A Right) and a show during the EFG London Jazz Festival. Here, Tikaram discusses how her songwriting has evolved over the years, learning to collaborate with other creatives and her musical influences. 

Is the new album a follow-up to ‘Ancient Heart’?
Not necessarily but the albums mirror each other. Ancient Heart’s songs reflect a teenager’s search for identity and belonging in a world that she often felt alienated from. The pieces featured on LIAR are from the perspective of someone who, having found her place in the world, now sees that world and its values and ideals crumbling around her.  

Musically, both albums find the right balance between light and dark, which I always strive for. When I started my career, I was the archetypal singer-songwriter penning lyrics in a bedroom with no experience of playing with other musicians or arranging a song. That has changed over the years. What I am most proud of in LIAR is bringing out the best in the collaborators who I have been working with and – thanks to producer Andy Monaghan – creating a unique and compelling sound. 

Has your approach to making music changed throughout the years?
When you are young, you are thrilled by writing and producing anything. But as you get older, the editing and selection process is harsher. I was also creating alone when I was younger. I am now more aware of the musicians I work with and their qualities. Though I’m not specifically writing for them, I consider very early in the arranging process how a particular player can enhance a song. I often use the lead instrument in a composition as the other voice telling the story. 

Who are your musical influences? Have they changed over time? 
When I was very young, it was my parents’ record collection, which included the occasional crooner, such as Nat King Cole and Dean Martin, from my dad and the likes of Barbra Streisand and Shirley Bassey from my mum. Others were releases from Trojan, Atlantic and Stax records, as well as albums by the Beatles. As kids, my brother and I were obsessed with a rock’n’roll radio station that we listened to late at night in Germany. Then I discovered singer-songwriters as a teenager. I was 30 when I began playing the piano, which introduced me to classical music and opened my ears to jazz. If there were to be a single artist who covers the whole universe of music, it would be Nina Simone – there is usually a song by her in my head that I’m obsessed with. 

There are strong political themes in your new album. How does songwriting help you understand the world?
I was conscious of trying to find a poetic language for troubling political events. I suppose that finding a way to express those feelings is a comfort. Judging by how people have thanked me for not pretending that everything is normal and writing songs that recognise we are living in a very dark time politically, it makes me feel less alone. 

‘LIAR’ is out now. Tikaram plays at London’s Royal Festival Hall on 15 November.