By Maria Bregman It was raining on Sunday, which is basically the only tradition the British Academy manages to uphold with any real consistency. The…
By Maria Bregman I’ve been thinking about facial hair lately. Not in a hipster, coffee-shop-barista way, but in a “soul of the artist” way. It…
By Tessa Nolan There are songs that lodge themselves in the cultural spine. You hum them without knowing where you heard them. Greensleeves is one…
By Sara Bright Ben Platt is coming to London. It’s happening in July. But he isn’t doing the Palladium. He isn’t taking over the Adelphi…
By Sara Bright We have a habit of resurrecting our dead rock stars. Not literally, of course, but forensically. We dig them up, dust off…
By Maria Bregman, writer, literary and art critic January is usually the time when the art world hides. The champagne from Basel Miami has worn…
By Alexander Stone I have a jar of pickled ginger in my fridge. It’s been there for six months. I bought it for a stir-fry,…
By Sara Bright The Winter Olympics have kicked off. Again. I was in Milan on Friday, watching the whole thing unfold at the San Siro,…
By Sara Bright Venice is doing it again. It’s February. The city is damp, cold, and impossibly crowded. And yet, for the next two weeks,…
By Sara Bright The Grammys have always been a bit of a circus. We know this. It’s part of the deal. You get the red…