VERONIKA GEORGIEVA *On Paper Surgery, Deconstruction and Memory

Ctrl + X
IT’S ABOUT THE CUT, THE WOUND AND THE IMAGE

interview + written HANNAH ROSE PRENDERGAST

Destruction isn’t more natural. Just easier.

Deconstruction, on the other hand, is Veronika Georgieva’s native language.

With her trusty scissors, she frees photographs, slides, and film from an eternity of official events. This version feels truer to how it actually happened.

Paper Surgery is a delicate operation to restore the soul; it’s also an SS 2010 ad campaign for Comme des Garçons.

Pulled from her own archive and that of complete strangers, the source material stings the same. The rest is just recovery.

No need to name the wound or explain the cut—the light will get to it. If not, a fashion magazine will.

Paper Surgery Series, Hannibal
Image courtesy of Veronika Georgieva

I Loved You For So Long. from Paper Surgery Series.
Image courtesy of Veronika Georgieva

Hannah Rose Prendergast
What’s lost when you try to replicate Paper Surgery digitally in Photoshop?

Veronika Georgieva
The imperfections in my work aren’t just visual; they’re conceptual. They challenge ideas of control. The accidental tears and unpredictable folds from physically manipulating paper are essential to the series. When you try to replicate this digitally, even with the most skilled attempts, the result feels too precise. It loses the raw touch that defines this aesthetic. And I’m just not interested in doing that. I love accidents too much.

All my works exist on the threshold between control and surprise, even for myself. Otherwise, I’d be bored by my own creativity. There’s good boredom and bad boredom—like good and bad cholesterol. I need the material to surprise me. I’m deeply annoyed when there’s no excitement of the unknown, no “accidental mistake.” I need a physical dialogue with the material, with its resistance, to feel that I’m an artist alive.

Why does deconstruction feel so natural to your creative process?

There’s absolutely no rule. But it’s important to distinguish between destruction and deconstruction. Destroying isn’t more natural—just easier. Deconstruction is harder because it’s analytical. Its goal is creation: building something new. I’d like to think creation is ultimately more natural for humans than destruction. At least, I want to believe that, even though recent years seem determined to prove the opposite.Deconstruction may look like destruction to anyone unwilling to engage with the process. People often ask, “Why did you ruin this dress?” or “Why cut up those photographs?” But I adore deconstruction. My methods break habitual perceptions of ordinary things, sometimes pushing them to the point of unrecognizability.

What are the risks of starting with a political message?

The risk isn’t politics in art, it’s politics as art’s predetermined script. The strength of art lies in interpretation. When it begins with a fixed political premise, it can end up privileging the artist’s authority over the viewer’s freedom to engage. A didactic mural about climate change, for instance, might dictate a single correct reading. But a more ambiguous work, like Anselm Kiefer’s scorched landscapes, leaves space for multiple, active interpretations.

True subversion doesn’t force the world to understand—it lets people feel and outspeak. Overtly political art can be easily co-opted. When power meets dissent, it often inoculates itself by sanitizing and selling it back. Think of Banksy’s anti-capitalist murals, auctioned off for millions. Starting with politics risks turning art into a gesture absorbed by the market as “radical chic.”

How does photography influence our collective memory and perception of truth?

Truth? What truth? Personal and collective memories are both unreliable. Photography has joined the club, thanks to Photoshop and AI. Even eyewitnesses can’t be trusted. Just look at the Rashomon effect, where the same event is recalled in contradictory ways by different people. Memories depend on identity and interests. Take the myth of George Washington cutting down the cherry tree—'I cannot tell a lie'—a story invented after his death to portray him as virtuous. Isn’t it symbolic? A story about honesty that's itself a lie.

Is there an image that becomes stronger by resisting capture?

Absolutely. Like gods or monsters left unseen in horror films, the viewer’s imagination always eclipses the reveal. But this principle extends beyond horror. Any image grows stronger by resisting fixation. The moment you try to pin it down, in a photograph, a painting, even in words, it loses its spectral charge. That’s why Resnais never showed the traumatic event in Last Year at Marienbad, and why Borges described the Aleph as “a point in space that contains all other points.” The most potent visions remain unfinished, demanding the mind’s collaboration to exist at all.

This is exactly why the hidden folds in Paper Surgery, or the dark voids built from layered slides, matter more than what’s visible. Meaning crumples into layers, interpretation becomes a dance between surface and depth. The unseen isn’t absence—it’s the image’s engine.

Page 9 from Paper Surgery Series.
Image courtesy of Veronika Georgieva

Do you see more character in fashion magazines today?

I don’t think so. It’s just a new grammar of control. To ask whether faces have “more character” implies we’ve agreed on what character is. Unpredictability? The marks of lived experience? Fashion magazines today reflect a cultural hunger for authenticity but deliver it as a product. Modern retouching tools simulate character (a freckle left intact, a wrinkle allowed to stay), but it’s a calculated rebellion—a corporate nod to realness.

Compare that to Corinne Day’s raw Polaroids of Kate Moss in the ’90s, where the awkwardness was unplanned—and therefore revolutionary. Today’s “flaws” are often focus-grouped: an illusion of imperfection.

How do you embrace conflict or tension in your work?

I’m currently working on a video installation for a ballet performance centered on barocco, a theme that deeply resonates with me. Barocco isn’t just a historical period; it’s a state of mind. It emerges when old systems fail—when something bursts beyond its frames, rupturing space, scale, and meaning. The ballet will unfold on an unconventional stage: a circular platform rotating around a massive metal cylinder. The venue, a former bread factory, offers almost no space for traditional scenery. The dancers appear like butterflies pinned to the cylinder, with no room to fly.
My idea is to deconstruct the cylinder with multi-channel video projections, puncturing it with virtual trompe l’œil corridors, expanding it through illusion. These corridors will stretch into receding depths, pulling viewers inward.

For inspiration, I revisited Last Year at Marienbad, those haunting black-and-white corridors shot in a German Rococo castle, that endless hall of mirrors. For weeks now, I’ve been losing myself in those imagined passageways. I want to go there, to see that place. Though I know reality could never match the film. Some inspiring places are better left unvisited, preserved only in the mind.

In a world where authorship is fragmented, what still truly belongs to the artist?

The process. The moment. The thrill. Love and death.
Everything belongs to the artist.
The decision to designate it as art.
The vulnerability of offering it to the world, knowing it will be rewritten, reclaimed, or erased.
The act of bravery belongs to the artist.

Page 57 from Paper Surgery Series.
Image courtesy of Veronika Georgieva

Page 55 from Paper Surgery Series.
Image courtesy of Veronika Georgieva

What image will you always return to?

Martin Kippenberger’s self-portrait. He stands with a crudely made sign around his neck, something you might expect to see on a lost child, a drunk, or an Alzheimer’s patient. Instead of a name or instructions, he scrawls: “Please, don’t send me home.” To me, it encapsulates the artist’s eternal paradox: the simultaneous search for home and flight from it—the dull comforts of the familiar. It’s desire rooted in impossibility: a lost paradise, forever out of reach, yet perpetually pursued.

A chaotic journey without a map.
The purpose of purposelessness.
Unfiltered traces of a personal destiny.
Moments of raw emotional gesture.
The coveted “mistakes.”
That time before morning arrives with its regrets and clean-ups.
The choice-free, guilt-free, unfiltered ride.

Can an image that wounds also offer healing?

I don’t know about healing, but I can tell you about the wound. In Camera Lucida, the French philosopher Roland Barthes introduces punctum—a term I adore. Punctum is an accidental detail in a photograph that “pricks” or “bruises” the viewer, creating a deeply personal, often painful resonance. As Barthes writes: “The punctum is a sting, speck, cut, little hole—it is also a cast of the dice. It wounds” me.

That’s why it remains elusive: punctum doesn’t reside in the image itself but in the collision between image and life. Barthes describes how a photograph of his mother evoked profound sorrow in him, though to others, it was just an ordinary snapshot. Punctum can’t be planned or manufactured; it arises spontaneously, unique to each observer, tethering emotion to image.

I suppose if you understand why an image reopens a wound, healing follows naturally. It lies in refusing to let pain stagnate. Like champagne, best drunk once opened, or it sours into vinegar and poisons you. As Rumi wrote: “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

Is there something you’ve cut that you wish you hadn’t?

Scissors are a girl’s best friend. They’ve never betrayed me. Not yet. Everything I’ve cut—and I’ve cut a lot—I’ve never regretted. When I was a young girl growing up in the Soviet Union, stores had limited clothing, and what they did have was usually ugly. But I always wanted to be stylish, so I learned to sew. I sewed everything, fromraincoats to pants, shorts to dresses, even a summer suit for my mom. I once designed and sewed an entire fashion collection.

With my architecture degree, paper models and cutting were already part of my routine. But after becoming a mother twice over, I only had time to cut. By then, I was living in New York City, surrounded by secondhand stores filled with more clothes than I’d ever dreamed of. To create unique designs that fit my figure, I cut endlessly.

Once, my dear friend Renata was shocked to learn where I’d gotten such a lovely belt. I’d started by cutting up a whole dress, but ended up trimming it down until only the belt remained—perfect for my vision.

When should you go offline?

I can tell you when not to go online: when you’re bored. Boredom is the mother of creativity—those who get bored turn to something new, something unique. It’s a huge problem, especially for kids today, who are never bored. They can fill every second with social media, immersed in the lives of others, forgetting their own. To create, you need a vacuum. Being online offers everything except a vacuum.

In his essay In Praise of Boredom, one of my favorite poets, Joseph Brodsky, frames boredom as a portal to self-awareness and existential clarity: “When hit by boredom, let yourself be crushed by it; submerge, hit bottom. In general, with things unpleasant, the rule is: the sooner you hit bottom, the faster you surface. The idea here … is to exact a full look at the worst. The reason boredom deserves such scrutiny is that it represents pure, undiluted time in all its repetitive, redundant, monotonous splendor.”

The notion of time is important for the artist. And when you’re online, time flies. The sad thing is, it flies unnoticed.

Comme des Garçons campaign. collaboration with Stephen j Shanabrook
Image courtesy of the artists & CdG

Helmut Newton Foundation *Rooms / Stages and One-off Album in Berlin

Why Helmut Newton Treated Rooms Like Stages

written SARA DOUEDARI

This summer, the Helmut Newton Foundation turns its focus away from the performer and toward the stage itself.

With Rooms / Stages and Helmut Newton’s One-off Album, two exhibitions opening simultaneously in Berlin, the institution explores how photography transforms physical spaces into sites of narrative, tension, and imagination.

Helmut Newton
Absolut Vodka, Sweden 1995
(c) Helmut Newton Foundation

Helmut Newton, Bernice, Monaco 1994 (c) Helmut Newton Foundation, Courtesy: Nicola Erni Collection. Annotation: “Berenice, Étoile du Ballet de Monte-Carlo, leg in an iron cage (built by a doctor in Berlin specially for me) at the Beach Club, Monte-Carlo, 1994”

Bringing together works by more than a dozen artists, Rooms / Stages examines the shifting relationship between architecture, presence, and absence. Empty interiors, theatrical settings, museums, underground stations, and meticulously constructed environments become subjects in their own right. Featured artists such as Götz Diergarten, Anna Lehmann-Brauns, Friederike von Rauch, Gregor Schneider, Paolo Ventura, and Robert Polidori challenge the traditional role of space as a passive backdrop, revealing it instead as an active force within the image.

George Rousse, Reims 2012, (c) Georges Rousse, Courtesy Galerie Springer Berlin

At the centre of the exhibition is Helmut Newton, whose work provides a compelling counterpoint to the contemporary positions on view. Throughout his career, Newton approached photography with the instincts of a film director, transforming hotel suites, city streets, private garages, and theatre stages into carefully orchestrated settings. His photographs are never merely about fashion. They are constructed worlds in which power, seduction, glamour, and psychological tension unfold with cinematic precision. Large-scale prints presented throughout the galleries highlight Newton’s remarkable ability to elevate ordinary locations into unforgettable stages.

Helmut Newton, One-off, Credit Phaidon

A selection of 51 Polaroids offers a rare glimpse behind the scenes. Used by Newton throughout his career to test composition, lighting, and spatial relationships, the instant photographs reveal the meticulous process behind images that often appear effortless. They also underscore a central idea of the exhibition: for Newton, space was as carefully cast as the models themselves.

The second exhibition, Helmut Newton’s One-off Album, presents a unique chapter of the photographer’s legacy. Created in 1999 together with collector Gert Elfering, the album brings together 103 original photographs selected by Newton himself. Iconic fashion images sit alongside Polaroids, advertising campaigns, unpublished working shots, and personal favourites, each accompanied by handwritten notes and anecdotes. Shown in Berlin for the first time, the collection offers an unusually intimate portrait of Newton’s visual universe and the stories behind some of his most celebrated photographs.

Together, the two exhibitions reveal photography’s ability to blur the boundaries between reality and performance. Whether through contemporary interpretations of architectural space or Newton’s unmistakable vision of glamour and control, Rooms / Stages demonstrates that every room has the potential to become a stage.

Rooms / Stages and Helmut Newton’s One-off Album are on view from 5 June to 15 November 2026 at the Helmut Newton Foundation, Museum für Fotografie, Jebensstraße 2, Berlin. For further information, visit www.helmut-newton-foundation.org.

Viktoria Binschtok, World of Details, diner seat, 2012 (c) Viktoria Binschtok / KLEMM´S Berlin

Paolo Ventura, Der Sturm No. 5, 2025, (c) Paolo Ventura, Jaeger Art Gallery

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Header Image
Götz Diergarten, o.T.1 (Berlin-Alexanderplatz), 2008, Diptychon (rechter Teil)
(c) the Artist

GIZEM EMRE *On Identity, Confidence, and Staying True to Yourself

Why Gizem Emre Is Done Measuring Herself Through Other People’s Eyes

interview + written THINLEY WINGEN

For years, Gizem Emre has been a familiar face on screens, red carpets, and across Germany’s cultural landscape. Yet despite growing up in the public eye, the actress describes herself as much quieter than many people might expect.

Gizem wears top, pants and jewelry by IOANNES, tights by FALKE and shoes by H&M Studio

"I think many people are surprised when they meet me in person because privately I'm much calmer and more reserved," she tells LE MILE. Born and raised in Berlin, Emre grew up between cultures and learned early on how to navigate different expectations while staying connected to herself. Over the years, she has developed a stronger sense of confidence, letting go of constant comparison and placing greater value on how she feels rather than how she is perceived. "I think the older you get, the more important it becomes how you feel about yourself instead of constantly thinking about how you appear to others." Below, the actress reflects on public perception, belonging, self-confidence, and finding moments of calm in an increasingly noisy world.

Gizem wears look by ELISABETTA FRANCHI and shoes by IOANNES

Gizem wears a dress by DIESEL

Thinley Wingen
Many people feel like they already know you before you've even said a word. How do you experience the difference between public perception and who you actually are?

Gizem Emre
Because I play many different roles and show different sides of myself through them, I’m not even sure if people have one specific image of me. I actually think many people are surprised when they meet me in person because, privately, I’m much calmer and more reserved than some might expect at first glance. As a viewer, you often only see fragments, a role, an appearance, or an interview, but not necessarily the person behind it.

You have been in the public eye for many years. What has changed about being a woman who is constantly seen and judged?

A lot has changed over the years. I’ve become much more confident, I know myself and my body better, and over time, I’ve learned not to compare myself to others all the time. You grow up with certain beauty ideals, and especially in the public eye, you are constantly being judged, consciously or unconsciously. It used to affect me more, but today I see things much more calmly. I think the older you get, the more important it becomes how you feel about yourself instead of constantly thinking about how you appear to others.

Gizem wears a dress by DIESEL

You often come across as very confident and present. Are there still moments when you feel misunderstood or reduced to a certain image?

Being able to speak freely also means allowing yourself to be seen without filters, and I think the fear of being misunderstood or not being taken seriously has been with me for a very long time. Especially when you enter the public eye at a young age, you quickly develop the feeling that you constantly have to prove yourself.

How has growing up in Berlin and as a Turkish-German woman shaped your understanding of belonging, strength, and identity?

I grew up between two cultures, and I see that as a gift. Of course, it can also come with a certain sense of being torn between different expectations or perspectives. But I was lucky enough to grow up in a very liberal family, which meant I never felt like I had to choose one side over the other.

What has helped you stay true to yourself over the years, despite public attention, social media, and outside expectations?

Above all, spending time with myself. I think it’s incredibly important to keep coming back to yourself and sorting through your own thoughts. Especially in a world where so much is constantly coming at you from the outside, you need that sense of calm to stay grounded.

Gizem wears top, pants and jewelry by IOANNES, tights by FALKE and shoes by H&M Studio

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talent GIZEM EMRE
photography NIC SCHOPPET
hair + make up FINA BOATENG
styling KLAAS HAMMER
interview THINLEY WINGEN
management BTA / CAROLINA DACHS

The Personal Edit of Callum Scott Howells: Behind the Scenes of Madfabulous

#ThePersonalEdit

Callum Scott Howells Opens His Camera Roll From the Making of Madfabulous

written LE MILE

For this edition of The Personal Edit, Callum Scott Howells shares a selection of personal images taken during the making of Madfabulous, in which he takes on the lead role of Henry Paget, the eccentric fifth Marquess of Anglesey whose extravagant life became the subject of one of Britain’s most remarkable true stories.

Known to many for his BAFTA-winning performance in It's a Sin, Howells spent months inhabiting a character whose life moved between aristocratic privilege, excess and self-invention. The images collected here sit alongside that process, capturing moments on set, between takes and during the production of a film that brings Paget’s singular world back into view. Shared directly from his camera roll and accompanied by his own captions, The Personal Edit offers a personal record of the journey behind Madfabulous, arriving as the film reaches cinemas June 5.

Meet the 5th Marquess of Anglesey and his big old ship folks

Extra curricular cast + crew trip to Zip World

Just your average, every day Victorian mother and son

“I placed this warm coat on the chair here next to me to save it for you Mr Everett”

“I’ll sit here thanks”

Nothing to see here apart from my slippers

On a serious note, Nadia Stacey is a genius and the GOAT fr

Tom holding Nadia’s Oscar (just to officially back up my above statement)

As Founder of the Ruby Stokes Fan Club, I’m delighted to inform you she’s the real deal

“First position please Mr Scott Howells”

Believe it or not, this was actually a job

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all images
(c) Callum Scott Howells

DRAGON PONY *South Korea’s Rising K-Pop Band

DRAGON PONY
When Four Players Collapse Into One Sound

interview + written AMANDA MORTENSON

Dragon Pony belong to a generation of South Korean bands quietly reopening the space for guitars, drums and collective noise inside a musical ecosystem famous for precision pop engineering. Formed by Ahn Tae-gyu, Kwon Se-hyuk, Pyun Sung-hyun and Ko Gang-hun, the four-piece operates within a musical landscape long dominated by tightly produced pop systems. Their work moves in a different direction, built around live instrumentation, collective songwriting and the physical intensity of performance, Dragon Pony position the band itself as the central creative unit.

total look OKIIO LOUNGE

shirt FOURONESIXZERO tie + jacket ARCHIVE

Each member brings a distinct role into that structure. Tae-gyu’s voice anchors the group’s melodic direction, Se-hyuk’s guitar frames its tonal identity, Sung-hyun’s bass provides the gravitational core, while Gang-hun’s drumming defines the band’s rhythmic architecture. Together, these elements produce a sound shaped as much by chemistry as by composition.

The band’s thinking about music often extends beyond technical language and performance becomes a shared environment where stage and audience collapse into a single moment of exchange. In this conversation with LE MILE, Dragon Pony reflect on sound, time, collaboration and the subtle mechanics that allow four musicians to merge into one evolving presence.

total looks MONTSENU

Amanda Mortenson
When the four of you walk into a room together, what kind of silence follows you — quiet curiosity, anticipation, or something else entirely?

Ahn Tae-gyu
Before a show, I think it’s a “silence of preparation and excitement,” where anticipation and nervousness coexist - hoping that everything we’ve prepared will be delivered well to everyone who came to see us. And after the show, it feels like a “silence of reflection,” as we slowly let the heat and energy from the stage settle and look back on whether Dragon Pony’s message and energy truly came through.

Tae-gyu, if your voice could melt and take a new shape, what would it become when it cools again?

Ahn Tae-gyu
If I borrow the idea of melting and taking on a new form, I think when it solidifies again it would become something like an even harder metal. The stories and emotions that melt and flow through me would eventually become stronger, more solid.

Ko Gang-hun, drummers often speak through impact. What’s the most delicate sound you’ve ever tried to create — and did anyone notice?

Ko Gang-hun
I don’t think the sounds I make are very close to “delicacy,” so I haven’t had many experiences like that! But one thing comes to mind. When I fall for a drummer, I tend to try to imitate everything about him very meticulously - their motions, gestures, even the tone of their kit.
There was a time when I was completely captivated by Thomas Hedlund, the session drummer for the band Phoenix, and I was trying to copy everything about his playing. During that period, a fan once told me that my snare tone reminded them of Thomas’s snare, and I still remember that.

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total look ERREUNO

What’s the most unexpected sound you’ve ever decided to keep in a song?

Pyun Sung-hyun
Before recording bass, I once accidentally captured some noise. I liked the feel of it, so I sampled it and used it as an FX sound.

Sung-hyun, you once said the bass feels like gravity. What happens when you want to escape it?

Pyun Sung-hyun
Whenever I want to escape that gravity, I do my own personal work - taking photos or videos, or trying to make new music. I step away from what’s familiar for a moment and do the things I personally want to do.

Imagine Dragon Pony performing for someone who’s never experienced music before. How would you describe what’s about to happen — without using words like song, beat, or emotion?

Kwon Se-hyuk
(Dragon Pony = 4 / The people joining the show = X)
(4 + X) = 1
Thump thump thump, boom boom boom, waaaah ÷ (4 + X) = ♡

(Interpretation: When Dragon Pony and the audience come together, they become one - and when that show ends, what remains is love.)

total look FOURONESIXZERO

Se-hyuk, if your guitar suddenly refused to play anything “beautiful,” where would you take it to make peace?

Kwon Se-hyuk
I’d take the guitar to the cinema, into nature, to see people - and to meet the people who’ve been waiting for our music - and then come back.

Who in the band has the best relationship with time and who’s always challenging it?

Ko Gang-hun The person who gets along best with time - and the one who has to - is probably me, the drummer. Because drums are tempo itself.
And the person who goes against time - and has to do it well - is Tae-gyu, our vocalist. Sometimes it’s amazing when sounds are played precisely and meticulously inside the tempo, but there are also times when what feels best is playing freely and comfortably without being obsessed with tempo - and I think that’s something unique to the human voice.

There’s always one instant on stage when you stop being four people and turn into one sound. What triggers that moment for you?

Kwon Se-hyuk
I think the time we’ve spent playing together and living together is what allows us to come together as one. That collective synergy is the band’s identity, and depending on what kinds of times we continue to share, we’ll keep growing and changing.

total look ARCHIVE

When your fans sing louder than you, does it feel like letting go or expanding together?

Ahn Tae-gyu
It’s a feeling that’s hard to put into words. In that moment, it’s not just our performance anymore - it expands to include the audience, and it becomes a moment where everyone is playing together. It’s one of the moments that makes me truly happy.

Looking ahead — five, ten, maybe twenty years — what kind of story do you hope people will tell about Dragon Pony: a quiet legend, or a vivid one?

Ahn Tae-gyu
In the end, I want to be remembered as a vivid story. But at the same time, I hope that everything we leave behind through the stage and our music stays with people - and that when time has passed, it might also become a kind of legend someone can quietly take out and revisit.

Pyun Sung-hyun
I want Dragon Pony to be remembered with the image of “a band that burned hot.”

Kwon Se-hyuk
I hope we can simply be Dragon Pony as we are - and that, in our own way, that can shine fiercely.

Ko Gang-hun
It still feels far away for me to imagine, since we haven’t been a band for long. But if I think about it, the bands I respect - like Foo Fighters and Oasis - have all expressed their stories vividly to the world, and they still are. So I think it would be amazing if we could become like that too.

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photography KANG MINJE
photo assistants LEE AHREUM + LEE JAEHO + YOO JIHOON
videography CHOI SEUNGWON
1st ac PARK HWANPIL
b cam KIM DONGHEE
fashion KIM HYUNJEONG
fashion assistant PARK CHEOLBEEN
fashion pr KIM HEEWON
hair LEE SEUNGJOON
make up LEE JEONGWON
band DRAGON PONY
talents AN TAEGYU + PYUN SUNGHYUN + KWON SEHYUK + KO GANGHUN

Aurelien Muller Shares His Camera Roll: Inside Aurelien Muller’s First Cannes Film Festival

#ThePersonalEdit

Aurelien Muller Opens His Camera Roll From Cannes 2026

written LE MILE

For this edition of The Personal Edit, Aurelien Muller shares a glimpse into his personal camera roll from his first visit to the Cannes Film Festival. Moving between hotel moments on the Côte d’Azur, fittings, red carpets and late-night celebrations, the images document the rhythm and atmosphere surrounding one of cinema’s most visible annual gatherings.

Arriving in the sunny Riviera for my first ever Cannes Film Festival.

Known for his recent appearance in Emily in Paris, Muller approached Cannes through a mix of film, fashion and personal observation. Across the festival, he attended events hosted by brands including Chopard, Ray-Ban and HFC Parfums, while stepping onto the Cannes red carpet for the very first time. Shot on his phone and paired with his own captions, The Personal Edit follows the days from arrival to closing night through Muller’s perspective.

A moment of peace at Chatea de Theoule before the excitement begins!

Looking out for any finishing touches before I walk the Cannes red carpet for the first time.

Then come those special Côte d'Azur nights. This evening celebrating HFC parfums was unforgettable.

Talking all things HFC Parfums with this incredible team.

Another day of fittings, grooming, and a special night with Chopard ahead.

My view before heading into Chopard’s The Miracle Gala.

A memorable evening with great company.

What a pleasant surprise!

Back in the chair for a refresh ahead of a busy day at Cannes.

Celebrating Ray-Ban in an all-white ensemble.

The glasses.

A moment for the many outfits of Cannes!

One of the final outfits of the trip, for a very special closing night!

A special moment on the carpet with Daria Strokous for EE72’s celebration of Film and Fashion.

all images
(c) Aurelien Muller

Jacob Greenway Shares His Camera Roll: Prepared to Play Jude Bellingham in Dear England

#ThePersonalEdit

Jacob Greenway Opens His Camera Roll From Dear England

written LE MILE

For this edition of The Personal Edit, Jacob Greenway shares a glimpse into his personal camera roll during the making of Dear England, the BBC adaptation of James Graham’s acclaimed stage production about Gareth Southgate and the England national football team. In the series, Greenway steps into the role of Jude Bellingham, one of the defining young players of England’s current generation.

Read throughs are special because it’s the first time you see the script come to life. I was consumed with excitement, gratitude, and trying to look calmer than I actually felt.

Moving between training grounds, set moments and the atmosphere surrounding a production shaped by football culture and national expectation, Jacob´s photos document a period balancing performance, preparation and the intensity surrounding one of the country’s most closely watched stories. Alongside Joseph Fiennes as Gareth Southgate, the series revisits the emotional pressure, ambition and scrutiny surrounding modern English football. Shot on his phone and paired with his own captions, The Personal Edit offers a direct look into the experience from Greenway’s perspective.

The only photo i’ve got from a base. The amount of hours we spent playing football at base was breathtaking. Some of my fondest memories are from kicking ball with the lads.

My first day filming. Energy was high. Vibes were immaculate.

Pre-training scene in my trailer. We spent a lot of time in these kits over the shoot, but this specific kit was always the standout for me.

Wondering round the pitch trying to get an aesthetic pic when I probably should’ve been paying attention.

A quick break with Roman Kemp and The BBC One Show during my stunt rehearsal. I was lucky to have Tyson with me throughout the process - if I broke my leg best believe he’d step in as my stunt double - had a wig on standby!

Rented out Tottenham Hotspur’s, as you do.

To many people’s surprise this was my first time inside a football stadium.

Sir Paul Whittington watching one of the overhead kick takes - The expression on his face was priceless. It felt good pulling that off.

Action shot from the Switzerland penalties scene. I spent the best part of two weeks making sure my run up was identical to Jude’s - only to get to set and find out they were only shooting my feet. still had to deliver the whole performance though.

all images
(c) Jacob Greenway

Mulaa Shares Her Camera Roll: On Love Letter, Touring and Finding Her Voice

#ThePersonalEdit

Mulaa Joans Opens Her Camera Roll from Her First International Shows

written KLAAS HAMMER

For this edition of the Personal Edit, Mulaa Joans gives us a glimpse into what life is really like for a young rising artist. Between soundchecks, fan meet-ups, radio interviews, and visits to all kinds of venues, things never get boring. The singer has already caused quite a buzz on social media. She has more than 400,000 followers on TikTok, and her song “Love Letter” alone has been streamed millions of times, with over 50,000 posts created using her sound. To get to know her a little better, she answered a few questions for us:

My first international radio interview in Amsterdammm
photo / QMusic

Klaas Hammer
How did you first get into music, and which artists inspired you the most in your early days?

Mulaa Joans
I got into music because I think I was born with it. I always felt so inspired by and close to the songs my dad and I listened to. He used to play artists like Prince and Pink Floyd. But I really started singing because my mom used to sing to me every night before I went to sleep. It was something she loved to do, and girls love being like their mums. I wanted to be like her and sing. We still sing together to this day. It’s so cute.

What does a typical songwriting session look like for you, and what tends to inspire your songs the most?

I often write songs or melody ideas and concepts in my bedroom, or while sitting by my window, to YouTube beats. It was something I always used to do when I was little because I can’t play any instruments, but I really like that I still implement that in my songwriting today. I then usually take those ideas into sessions with the people I work with, and we make the song better. I’m inspired by literally everything. I think as I’m growing up, I’m learning how to speak about things that may have happened to me in the past, things that maybe I wasn’t ready to speak about when I was younger. But I’m also very inspired by film. I often write songs based on films or TV storylines.

Your music has been all over our feeds, with videos and edits with millions of views using your song “Love Letter.” Why do you think the track connects so strongly, and what is it about it that resonates with so many people?

I honestly think it’s because the lyrics are so blunt and honest, and often people are scared to say exactly how they feel. I’ve always been a very confrontational and blunt person, so I think it comes across in my songwriting. People relate to it because it’s something they feel they want to say to someone in their life, but don’t feel like they can. The song gives them an outlet for that.

Looking back so far, what has been the most memorable moment of your career?

I think the most memorable moment of my career has been my show in Amsterdam. I can’t even express to you how crazy it is that people in another country are singing the lyrics to my songs that aren’t even out yet. That is just actually mad. The fans were so nice, and I really loved getting to stay and chat with them.

Signing my setlists for a newfound fan!!

Claws out for my headline in Amsterdam! It was unbelievable, I loved every second

Visiting a venue I can only dream of playing in Brussels one dayyyy

Fan meet-up in Amsterdam! This blew my mind, and I can’t wait to come back

A moment for the Paris fit… This skirt I will be buried in

One of my fav shots from tour, taken by a very talented fan, @shotbyninte
photo / Ninte Hogeslag

Backstage pouts, ’cause it’s my go-to face 🤫

This was my first time seeing my name in lightssss… WTF

Smiley soundcheck with Kent on the keysss

all images
(c) Mulaa Joans

ADRIAN KISS *Keeping the Comfort Complicated

Objects Don’t Rest, They Plot

Adrian Kiss Keeps the Comfort Complicated


interview + written ALBAN E. SMAJLI

There’s a duvet folded in half in Adrian Kiss’s memory, heavy with wool and childhood, a private weather system pressed close in the dark. Long before anyone started calling it sculpture, there were mattresses, blankets, the stubborn geometry of safety and sleep, objects that promised comfort and ended up complicating it. Adrian grew up negotiating softness and weight, inventing worlds under covers that protected and sometimes trapped, learning early that the line between body and object is a moving target.

Dunyha Firka 1, 2021, quilted leather and canvas with acrylic spheres, 200 × 140 cm, presented as part of Dunyha Tomorrow at acb Gallery, Budapest, Hungary, 2021 / Image by Dávid Tóth

Leather Hole 1, 2021, leather on metal structure, 185 × 150 cm, presented as part of Dunyha Tomorrow at acb Gallery, Budapest, Hungary, 2021 / Image by Dávid Tóth

His work never hides its seams. Materials arrive marked, stained, scarred by use or time, sometimes freshly buried, sometimes coaxed into new shapes by the hands of collaborators or by gravity itself. Duvets and tyres, stitched suns and industrial leftovers, everything carrying traces of its past life, everything drafted into the ongoing drama of care and disruption. Nostalgia and hypermodernity don’t compete here. They mingle in the form of a quilt dragged across a concrete floor or a basket woven to hold more than bread.

The studio is both laboratory and cul-de-sac, a place where tools outnumber screens and the slow work of listening shapes every decision. When things risk getting too polished, Adrian ruins the surface, lets chaos in, or simply walks away until time itself gets bored and leaves its mark. He’s learned to trust whatever’s at hand, scrap, memory, silence, and to keep the choreography open, the outcome unresolved. 
Every object in the room wants to speak, but the story keeps shifting, between sleep and vigilance, labor and leisure, skin and structure. That’s the paradox Adrian returns to inhabit, over and over, until the work feels as alive and restless as the hand that made it.

Alban E. Smajli
Your work thrives on physical materials. How do you decide which medium becomes the “skin” of your next piece?

Adrian Kiss
For me, the “skin” of the work is often where the human body is, as that has been at the centre of my practice. My relationship with materials is intuitive, a safe space that forms the foundation of my artistic language.
In my earlier work, I struggled to translate my positionality and material intuition into larger narratives, often compelling me to symbolically bury my pieces for transformation and “curing”. This analogy became a guiding methodology for understanding the performativity of materials and the transformative potential of forces. I began investigating how the non-living can act as a performer, embodying time-based processes, under and beyond the influence of the human. When deciding what becomes the 'skin' of a work, I think about its capacity to resist or welcome the passing of time.

Tell us about your childhood obsession with duvets, why does that heavy comfort keep showing up in your installations?

I’m drawn to everyday gestures and the object culture associated with them. I’m especially interested in the things we all must do, like sleeping, but which, sadly, we’re not all allowed to do equally. We all need sleep, but are we given the right to rest? Mattresses, blankets, pillows, and duvets represent the care of home and the comfort of safety. In my installations and sculptures, they often appear without the human figure, and in that absence, they start to become the body. I use them to create a sense of insecurity by juxtaposing their softness and familiarity with more brutal or unstable surroundings.
I only started working with bedding a few years ago, after a long period of engaging with jackets and garments. Duvets, in particular, carry intimate traces, stains, scents, marks, subtle forms of memory and presence. They’re comforting, but they also speak of vulnerability. At my grandparents’, their duvet was filled with thick wool, making it very heavy. As a child, under its heavy-comfort, I often felt trapped and safe.

Say your studio suddenly went analog. No screens or signal, just tools and silence. How might that reshape the way you create, or even the way you think inside your space?

Answering this question tells much about how I work. I haven’t always been in the privileged position to do art full time, I’ve worked alongside my studio practice most of my life. This really shaped what I had access to, time and money-wise. So I often worked by collaborating with other creators to produce parts of my work. This meant I didn’t need much of a studio; much of the experimentation at the start was done on paper. With time, I reconnected with making, and that was a revelation, I found a new purpose in it. But havint this experience, I’m also comfortable working with whatever space and tools I have access to.
No screens and signals, just tools and silence, would mean I am a child again, probably getting bored soon, and through that, entertaining myself through creative explorations of what I have and what I know. Sounds exciting.

Is It Big? Is It Small? How Does It Smell?, 2024, textile objects with clay, sand, straw and wooden pallets, dimensions vary / Image by Adrian Kiss

Is It Big? Is It Small? How Does It Smell?, 2024, textile objects with clay, sand, straw and wooden pallets, dimensions vary / Image by Adrian Kiss

Your inspirations range from brutalist architecture in Romania to internet visuals. How do you balance nostalgia with hyper-modernity?

These seemingly opposite sources of influence are not so far from each other. My work exists both in the countryside and the city, because that’s where I’m from. I live and work in the memory and nostalgia of my time spent in Romania and Hungary, but I’m constantly inspired by my surroundings. Having studied in the UK and the Netherlands, always being on the move, I’m constantly challenged to question my learnings.

It’s true that in my early work, right after graduating, I was very much a post-internet artist, deeply engaged with digital aesthetics. But over time, that shifted and I became more present in my physical surroundings and also began mingling more with memory, especially memories of my childhood in Coșnea.
I spent many summers in that cul-de-sac village, isolated in the Romanian mountains, at my grandparents’ home. It was largely untouched by urbanisation. The small rural working-class community, where folk traditions were still lived and performed through material culture, gave me a deep sensitivity to how objects carry meaning, and agency. Now, after living in two post-socialist countries, and then in London and the Netherlands, I see how the city is present in the village, and the village in the city. What seems like a contrast, between nostalgia and hyper-modernity, often overlap. I move between them intuitively.

When things get too polished, do you ever feel the urge to ruin them a little, just to keep the chaos alive?

Yeah, that is exactly what happened when I lost contact with the making. I felt like my works were coming out of a factory, and I’d been removed from them emotionally. It wasn’t an urge to create chaos that I felt, but an urge to “age” my work. This is how I came up with the idea of burying my early pieces and allowing them to cure. I’ve tackled this question frequently in the past years through different experimentations where I extended the making to forces outside my control. I dropped sculptures from my studio window in an improvised but directed sequence, a performance that lasted 16 minutes. The “final compositions” were shaped by gravity and inertia. The audience’s experience was guided by the expectation, what will fall next, and when?
On another occasion, in the performance titled Mom, Why Didn’t You Tell Me?, I wished to juxtapose the care embodied by six quilted wool blankets with the brutality of soil and the everyday. I demonstrated these tensions by disassembling a 500 kg adobe sculpture in front of an audience, and carrying the adobe’s weight down to the garden using the blankets..

How does physical context—like the sunken pool at VUNU or decaying industrial spaces—shape the way your work behaves in the real world?

I usually organise my studio time around larger projects that often respond to the spaces where the works will be shown. That was the case with my solo show at VUNU, Satin, Soil, Stomach, curated by Lilla Lipusz. When we first visited the space and submerged ourselves in the concrete basin of the former swimming pool, we were transported elsewhere, the space had a particular vibration that had to be respected.

It became a question of listening, of learning how to be in dialogue with both the space and the materials. Listening, arguably, has been suppressed today, whether through the silencing of others, the deliberate creation of noise and disinformation, or through our own disconnection from listening itself. The work created for VUNU would have a different dialogue in another space. Equally meaningful, but a different story.

Untitled (bonnet), 2014, acrylic paint on car bonnet, 97 × 128 × 6 cm, presented as part of MMM at art quarter budapest, Budapest, Hungary, 2020 / Image by Dávid Biró

Roll Me, Squeeze Me, Say My Name (detail), 2025, quilted wool blankets, tires, ratchet straps and wire on metal structure, 544 × 400 × 150 cm, presented as part of Restless Dislocations at Ján Koniarek Gallery, Trnava, Slovakia, with Radovan Čerevka, 2025 / Image by Dávid Biró

Your moodboards often feel like industrial scraps meet sci-fi: what’s your trick for transforming found objects into uncanny-human extensions?

I’m compelled to juxtapose materials, shapes, and concepts with polar values. There’s a kind of specificity that emerges when you intersect them. Through their contradictions, something precise is revealed, often oddly familiar, rooted in the everyday. Like the harshness of quilted black leather paired with soft padding. Or the weight of an old used tyre placed beside a woven basket. Or the intimacy of a stitched sun on a wool blanket, a material usually meant to protect the body, now used to carry remains from a “burial site.” Care and brutality in the quotidian are not opposites, but entangled, complicating any clear notion of what care even means.

When do you feel the work is alive? Is it the moment you stitch it together, exhibit it, or let it sit and transform with time?

Most of my stitchwork is done by my fantastic colleague Eszter Előd, she gets to experience the slow catharsis of a quilt coming together, step by step. I often work as a producer, collaborating with others to create something together. Like Sándor Végh, a third-generation basket weaver, or Zoltán Ónodi, an incredible welder and metalworker. And more recently, I’ve been collaborating with the agency of time and chance itself. In other instances, I do the labour myself, because it’s conceptually important that I endure the weight of the soil, or because I technically can, and want to.
That said, while the process of making is always fascinating, what I enjoy most isn’t the making, it’s the human connections that come with it. I get to meet and work with talented people, to share stories and trust.

What’s the next paradox you want to explore? Organic vs. synthetic is “vintage Kiss.” Where do you go after that?

I’ve recently leapt into time-based media, and I’m enjoying the new challenges and the broader visual vocabulary it allows. Rather than seeking new paradoxes, I want to deepen the ones I’ve already been working with, exploring them in depth and more situated.
Lately, I’ve realised how much material has been right in front of me that I’ve overlooked, like the social interactions with my collaborators, the physical labour of preparing adobe for my sculptures. These aren’t just background processes, or invisible work, they’re part of the work.

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header image
Adrian Kiss
Dunyha Tomorrow, installation view, acb Gallery, Budapest, Hungary, 2021 / Image by Dávid Tóth

CHRISTO at GAGOSIAN *What If Air Could Be Held in Form

What If Air Could Be Held in Form
Christo at Gagosian London

written LE MILE

Air becomes visible in Christo’s work at the exact moment it is forced into a limit. In the early polyethylene pieces from the 1960s, the gesture remains stripped to its essentials: a transparent skin pulled tight with rope, the surface responding to internal pressure through small distortions that give the volume a fragile, almost provisional presence. The air inside does not transform, yet it begins to register as something held, something that occupies space with a quiet insistence once a boundary is drawn around it.

That same operation now unfolds at architectural scale in Air Package on a Ceiling, conceived in 1968 with Jeanne-Claude and realized for the first time at Gagosian in London. The installation stretches across the full width of the gallery, a suspended volume that descends into the room until it hovers just above head height. Its presence is immediate, not through spectacle or surface complexity, but through the way it interrupts the given proportions of the space. The ceiling no longer reads as a distant, stable plane; it is pulled downward, redefined by a form that holds itself in tension.

Christo
Wrapped Ceiling, 1965
Installation view: Office building located in Mid-town Manhattan, New York

Artwork © Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation
Photo: Thomas Cugini
Courtesy Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation and Gagosian

Christo
5,600 Cubicmeter Package (first skin)
Installation view: Kassel, 1968

Artwork © Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation
Photo: Klaus Baum
Courtesy Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation and Gagosian

Moving through the room brings the work into focus and the surface gathers and tightens where it meets the rope, light revealing the internal pressure that keeps the structure intact. Edges remain unstable, never fully separating from the surrounding architecture, so that the volume appears contained and in continuous relation to the space around it. Air shifts from background to substance, encountered as density and resistance. The installation carries the logic of the early works forward without altering its terms. Containment remains the central act, yet its implications expand once the boundary engages directly with the architecture. Drawings and models shown alongside the piece trace this shift, revealing how a freestanding form evolved into a suspended condition that absorbs the room into its structure. The work reorganizes it from within, placing the visitor in a field defined by pressure, proximity, and scale.

Christo and Jeanne-Claude
Big Air Package
Installation view: Gasometer Oberhausen, Germany, 2010-13

Artwork © Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
Courtesy Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation and Gagosian

A similar precision underlies Wrapped Automobile—Volvo, Model PV-544 (1981), presented in the second gallery after decades out of view. The car is enclosed within a continuous wrapping that follows its contours closely enough to register its volume while withholding any access to its surface. What remains is a held form, its mass translated through the tension of the material that surrounds it. The gesture fixes the object within a state that neither resolves into use nor dissolves into absence, maintaining a suspended presence shaped entirely by the conditions imposed on it.

Across these works, Christo’s practice unfolds through a consistent attention to how boundaries produce form. Materials remain direct, their role confined to enclosing, binding, and sustaining pressure. What they make visible is not an internal essence, but the act of holding itself, a condition that gives shape to what would otherwise remain ungraspable.
And the exhibition gathers these propositions into a single spatial experience that clarifies how far this logic extends. A surface is drawn, tension is applied, and a volume emerges that can be walked under, circled, and measured against one’s own body. The effect relies on the precision with which the intangible is momentarily given form, held just long enough to be encountered.

Christo: Air is on view at Gagosian London, Grosvenor Hill, from 21 May to 18 July 2026, presenting the first realization of Air Package on a Ceiling (1968) alongside early works and archival material that trace Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s exploration of air as a contained and perceptible condition.

Contact Sheet: Christo wrapping "Wrapped Automobile-Volvo, Model PV-544" (1981)

Artwork © Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
Courtesy Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation and Gagosian

Christo
Wrapped Automobile-Volvo, Model PV-544, 1981
Volvo, Model PV-544, fabric and rope
60 x 61 x 171 inches (152.4 x 154.9 x 434.3 cm)

© Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
Courtesy Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation and Gagosian

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Banner Image
Christo and Jeanne-Claude, 42,390 Cubic Feet Package, Installation view: Minneapolis, Minnesota, 1966

Artwork © Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation / Photo: Carroll T. Hartwell / Courtesy Christo and Jeanne-Claude Foundation and Gagosian

COSIMA KAIBEL *Three Stripes and the Codes of a Generation

Three Stripes and the Codes of a Generation
From Neukölln to Canvas with Cosima Kaibel

interview + written ALBAN E. SMAJLI

Adidas appears in contemporary painting with a frequency that would have seemed unlikely a generation ago. The three stripes have moved beyond sportswear and entered the visual vocabulary of a younger generation of artists. Tracksuits and sneakers circulate through studios and canvases in cities like Berlin, London or New York as a shared cultural code, carrying references to belonging, migration histories, street culture and urban identity. For many painters today, these garments carry a particular duality. They are instantly recognizable yet deeply ordinary.

leather bomber jacket by ESRA VON KORNATZKI

A tracksuit can signal attitude, nostalgia, irony or intimacy depending on how it is framed. Adidas has quietly become part of the visual language through which contemporary identity is read and expressed.

Berlin-based artist Cosima Kaibel approaches this language from within the environment that shaped her. After years abroad, she returned to Berlin, where her work continues to circle around Neukölln and the subtle social codes embedded in everyday scenes.

For this collaboration with Adidas, Kaibel condenses the scene into a fragment where two figures meet, visible only from the legs down, Adidas trousers falling into Adistar Control 5 sneakers as the three stripes trace quiet lines along the bodies. Everything above the frame remains open. Without faces, identity unfolds through posture, fabric and proximity, allowing the viewer to complete the moment while reflecting Kaibel’s wider interest in how bodies are framed and interpreted in contemporary visual culture.

Alban E. Smajli
You lived in the UK, China, Uruguay, India, France and Italy before coming back to Berlin. Did leaving make you see the city more clearly, and why did you decide to return and paint it again? How does place shape identity for you?

Cosima Kaibel
Leaving and coming back definitely changed my perspective on the city. It made it feel much more like home. Exploring different places made me realize what’s special about Berlin to me and see the magic in things I thought were normal before, like the mix of cultures on Sonnenallee or the Queer culture here, the rough down-to-earth attitude of Berliners and the way all of these shape the whole energy of the city. Seeing things that are different helped me realize that there is no universal ‘normal’, but that ‘normal’ is always relative. That was freeing.

I believe that places are a big part of identity. They determine our experiences, what we learn, what we see, values people hold up around us. All of that eventually shapes who we become. Even if you try to live in your own bubble, you still move through streets, hear languages, deal with people. That does something to you, even if it means rejecting your direct environment. Traveling made me realize how much I do identify as a Berliner, if not a Neuköllner. (44 Represents! - That’s the number of the part of the district where my school was.)

Painting scenes from the city and my district is a way for me to show my appreciation for this place and the things it stands for in my view. I paint it because it formed me. 

What does identity mean to you right now?

To me identity means knowing who I am, which is rather an ongoing process than a fixed definition. It’s about understanding what matters to you and why. When I look at the people and places I grew up with, I understand myself better. Shared experiences stick. School friends, old memories, stupid stories you still laugh about - that creates belonging. Even if everyone came from different backgrounds and went in different directions later on.
Identity isn’t just how you see yourself. It’s also who you experienced things together with. I’m also interested in how identity is performed.
Through clothes, posture, the way someone stands or moves. You don’t just have an identity - you show it. Sometimes consciously, sometimes not. That’s something I explore in my Neukölln series and in my newer series „Anything Butt Dates“ - Bodies carry projection, control, vulnerability, stories, and power. 

For our first ever painted cover, you decided to show only the lower body, from the thighs down. Why did you leave out the faces? What changes when identity is told through posture, fabric and sneakers?

Omitting faces is something I often do in my work, because they often don’t matter for what I want to show. Posture, fabric and sneakers are carriers of cultural meaning and stories. A tracksuit, for example, is never just sportswear; in Neukölln it becomes part of a shared visual language. When faces disappear, the image becomes less about “this person” and more about structures: belonging, subculture, class, gender expression - which is what I’m more interested in, when I choose to paint this way.
At the same time, leaving out faces creates space for projection. The viewer completes the image, fills in what is missing, invents a story beyond the frame. I’m interested in that openness. I don’t want to over-explain or resolve everything. I want to provoke a certain unresolved tension, a friction that keeps the image alive. 

watch the making of
/ directed and filmed by FURKAN CETIN

And what do you imagine is happening beyond what we see (We only see part of the scene and everything above the frame is open)? Is that anonymity protective, political or simply poetic for you?

For me, it’s just a love scene. Two people kissing. Whether they’re men, women, or something else doesn’t matter. If that becomes political, that says more about society than about the image.


Also, in general I like to omit details in the stories I write and the images I create, when they’re not necessary. In this image it’s about two people in a moment of affection. It doesn’t matter which gender they identify with or what skin color they have. I also find it boring to be too explicit.
In “Anything Butt Dates,” anonymity has a protective dimension. The project deals with male bodies as carriers of social role models, beauty ideals, and power structures, but also as vulnerable and relational beings. In a digital culture shaped by dating apps and photographic self-exposure, the act of showing and withholding becomes charged. Omitting details protects the privacy of the models and shifts attention to the politics of the gaze itself. 

When you paint Adidas, do you think of it as a brand, or more as a shared cultural code for your generation?

Both - but primarily as a cultural code. In Neukölln, certain brands function almost like dialects. A three-stripe tracksuit carries references to migration histories, masculinity, street culture, aspiration. It can signal belonging or stereotype at the same time. I’m interested in that ambiguity. When I paint something like that, I’m not advertising a brand - I’m painting a social symbol. It’s similar to how Renaissance painters depicted fabric folds to signify status. Today, a tracksuit can communicate just as much.

That’s also why, in the painting with the tracksuit, I gave so much attention and care to the material itself. I treated it with a kind of tenderness - to show the texture, the shine, the weight of the fabric. By rendering it with that level of detail and affection, I elevate something often dismissed as ordinary or stereotypical and show how it carries dignity, complexity, and beauty. Even if the cover isn’t officially part of the Neukölln series, it speaks the same language.
Cropped bodies, sneakers close to each other, stripes running down the legs. You don’t see faces but you immediately read identity, generation, intimacy. Clothes tell the story.

In this image, the brand almost disappears.
The stripes become lines connecting the bodies.
It’s less about a logo, more about proximity and shared code.

You’ve often explored who is looking and who is being seen (especially in your series "Anything Butt Dates"). In this cover, without faces, who really holds the power of the image?

Me and the viewer. The models I work with agree to be directed by me. That way I create the image but every viewer has their own experience with it. They can notice different aspects of it and are free to let their own imagination interpret and judge it. It’s something that’s out of my control. Once I let an image go, it’s with everyone who sees it.

What does a typical day in your studio look like right now, and what kinds of images or moments in everyday life tend to catch your attention?

Sometimes I lock myself in, put on music, and paint for hours without talking to anyone. Other times I invite friends over. I like noise in the background and life happening while I work. I also host events here. Art shouldn’t sit in a white cube pretending it’s above everything. It’s part of society. So people come, we talk, we argue, we drink, we think.
Some days I feel like I have to go outside. Walk around. Call people. See what’s changing. Other days I don’t leave until something on the canvas finally makes sense. The beginning of a painting is usually messy, vague, like trying to remember a dream. I often don’t know what I think until I paint it. Sometimes I photograph models, sometimes I sculpt, sometimes I write. I like having a plan - and then ignoring it. Structure is good. Something to push against.

I’m drawn to things that feel slightly off. An old car overloaded with watermelons. Trash on the street, a bridal shop next to a men’s café, a male butt. Things people don’t consider “important” are usually the most interesting. They carry more story than they admit.

There is often a quiet tension in your work, between glamour and absurdity, closeness and distance. Where does that tension sit in this cover motif?

I think, in a sense, it has something voyeuristic about it, although there is nothing explicit and it’s entirely anonymous. However, it’s not me who is to judge. If I wanted to explain everything in words, I wouldn’t paint. I think the tension exists because something remains unresolved, and that’s where an image begins to breathe.

Has growing up in Berlin shaped your sense of humor and irony in your work?

Berlin has a very specific dryness.
If you don’t develop a sense of humor here, you won’t last long. So you learn to laugh at things, including yourself. People will insult you and help you in the same breath. You either learn to find that funny or you suffer.
In Berlin, a grandmother might yell at someone in Arabic while two queer guys in crop tops walk past at 8 a.m. after a club night. No one blinks. That coexistence shapes your humor. You stop taking a lot of things seriously.

I use humor as a way in. Otherwise people shut down. I’m not interested in moralizing or lecturing people. I’d rather make them look twice.

What are you curious about exploring next in your practice?

When I was painting places, I was already dealing with power. Space shows you everything: Who takes it, who avoids it, who feels safe, who doesn’t.
A city isn’t neutral, it reflects how we live together.
Now I’m focusing more on bodies. But it’s the same question. Bodies are also shaped by power, by media, by art history, by what was idealized and what was excluded. The way we’ve learned to look at bodies affects how we look at ourselves and others, how we interact, how we judge, how much space we believe we’re supposed to take up and where.

In that sense I’m not really changing the topic, I’m just zooming in.

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seen NICOLAI SAUER
styled + fashion editor KLAAS HAMMER
make up + hair LEO STERN
talent COSIMA KAIBEL
male model MERLIN FINN BARBER
head of production ALBAN E. SMAJLI
production LEMILESTUDIOS
film + direction FURKAN CETIN
in collaboration with adidas

ESRA VON KORNATZKI *Developing Garments from Existing Materials and Process

Esra von Kornatzki Works with Worn Materials and Fixed Surfaces in Contemporary Fashion

interview + written SARAH ARENDTS
seen JULIAN MELZER

Esra von Kornatzki is a Berlin-based designer whose work develops from a background in sculpture and fine art studies at Universität der Künste. Her focus lies in constructing garments directly on and for the body, using methods that stem from mold-making, draping and surface treatment. Pattern cutting functions as a way of shaping the body, with each piece defined through proportion, weight and material resistance.

leather bomber jacket by ESRA VON KORNATZKI

She uses existing materials such as discarded leather, inherited fabrics and used saddle blankets sourced from racetracks. These materials are chosen for their surface condition and durability. Signs of wear such as creases, dirt, sweat or discolouration are not removed. Instead, they are fixed into the garment through technical processes. Saddle blankets, for example, are treated with a water-based transfer glue, silk-screen printed and then fused with a transparent foil using heat, sealing the surface and preserving the traces underneath.

Esra von Kornatzki works directly with the material rather than outsourcing production, allowing the properties of each fabric to influence the final shape. Many of the materials resist standard sewing techniques, which results in firm, structured silhouettes.

Her parallel involvement in horse racing informs the way she works with time and preparation. Materials often come from that environment, and the process of developing a garment follows a similar logic of pacing and control. The garments retain visible information about their origin and a sofa becomes a bomber jacket, saddle blankets become coats and trousers. The previous use remains present through the surface, while the function changes through construction.

Sekou is wearing a trenchcoat from ESRA VON KORNATZKI, GDR military boots from FASHION ARCHIVE, and knitted gloves from FASHION ARCHIVE

Sekou is wearing a grey suit, and Esra is wearing a white suit from ESRA VON KORNATZKI and red leather gloves from MAISON MARGIELA

Sarah Arendts
What led you from sculpture into fashion design?

Esra von Kornatzki
Sculpture has a tendency to be very removed from the body, an object in space, but I wanted to get closer to the human body and have that as my point of reference. Fashion design feels more urgent and relatable, as it implies everyday usage and thus becomes part of a new physical reality rather than something to look at. There is an intense, passionate relationship between people and their clothes that I find compelling. 

How does your fine art training influence the way you construct garments?

My background in fine art shapes the way I look at and construct garments. My studies were conceptual and that translates into the way I approach fashion design. There is the symbolic meaning a material carries but also its physical abilities. My first professor was a sculptor and the second a painter. You will find both influences in the garments I make in the way I stress the three dimensional aspect of clothing, treating the body like a canvas that the clothing wraps around. During my fine art studies I became an expert in mold making. Pattern making and drapage is an extension of that skill, molding the body and changing its properties, using the garment as a medium. I like to transform the fabrics and materials I find, treating the surface using dye and methods of coating like laminating. I tend to work with stubborn materials that resist being sown, but it gives them their strong sculptural quality and firmness in the silhouettes. 

What role does manual work play in your process? 

I think through making. That’s another reason why I place so much value on craftsmanship, which has always caused some residual tension between me and my conceptual art training. But I think of this tension as a strength and driving force, it's part of my identity as an artist and designer. As a designer I don’t like handing over the production part of the design process. Technology has detached many from manual work and I think certain ideas and refinement gets lost in this disconnect. For example, the stubbornness of the material I work with pushes me to find creative solutions and incidentally teaches me to be patient, which definitely hasn’t been my strong suit. I like to joke that I don’t have any impulse control, which can be a source of creative output, but also needs to be channeled carefully. Time is an important factor, manual work takes time, a rare commodity in our society, but something you see and feel, when you wear the garment. For me, manual work is more than a means to an end, it's a dialogue based on the material and the vision of the form it should take. 

What criteria do you use when selecting materials for a piece?

At art university it's a common notion that sculptors have a material fetish and I think it’s true for fashion designers as well. I have this obsession with the physical and symbolic qualities of certain materials that I’m intuitively drawn to and I think that materials age like fine wine. My selection process is a mixture of purpose and chance. I’m a nostalgic 90’s girl. I usually use worn materials, because I love a good story and worn materials are more likely to tell one. It started when my grandmother passed away and I inherited all her fabrics. Oftentimes I know an opportunity, when I see one. For example, I had to rework an old leather sofa for a client, the old leather was too gorgeous (showing off everybody who’s ever sat on it and every sunray that shown on it) to throw away and I came up with a piece, which is the bomber jacket, that suited the thick discarded leather of the sofa. It's the unused potential I see. For the other garments in this editorial, I sourced the material from a racetrack near me, each saddle blanket had been used once on a rainy day, meaning they were full of dirt and sweat, bearing witness to a specific moment in time, which made them interesting to me. However, I knew the material had to be modified in order to become desirable, which led me to coating it. In most cases I look for durability as well, functional, high quality materials that could last a lifetime, even if signs of usage add to their given patina, essentially continuing the story. 

What changes when a worn object like a sofa or saddle blanket is turned into clothing?

The context changes. The original object disappears physically, but remains conceptually present. The new garment gives clues to its origin through traces and marks on its surface, which aren’t immediately decodable for the audience, but felt anyhow by them. 

Esra is wearing a top from INTIMISSIMI, nylon shorts and boots from PRADA (via @velvetknife.archive), and Romeo Ultra is wearing a leather collar by ESRA VON KORNATZKI

Esra is wearing a top from ORNELLA PROSPERI, a jacket from ESRA VON KORNATZKI, and pants and bag from FASHION ARCHIVE

Sekou is wearing jeans from ESRA VON KORNATZKI, gloves and a waist bag from FASHION ARCHIVE

How do you technically preserve traces such as dirt, sweat or hair when coating materials?

For the saddle blankets I used a water based transfer glue (TRANSLAC BOND 55) that I silk screen printed onto the material and then fused with a glossy transparent foil using a heat press at 16o °C, essentially laminating the material and trapping the dirt, sweat and hair underneath.

What information do you want the material to retain once it becomes a garment?

I want the material to retain its history—where it came from, even if in an abstract sense—and its symbolic meaning. I’m interested in what a material carries physically and conceptually, and how that can continue to inform the garment once it is transformed.

How do you position your work within current discussions around material-driven design?

Generally speaking, material does come first in my design process and informs the outcome. I relate to practices like Martin Margiela or even Joseph Beuys, where material isn’t neutral but holds memory and meaning before it becomes form. The material has been exposed to time and happenings, which shape its physical and aesthetic reality, making it a witness and narrating agent. I hold a deep sensitivity for texture, fabric behavior, and tactility. Intuitively exploring and engineering materials while also respecting what they are rather than forcing them to fit a preconceived idea. It's a hybrid practice of a material-led, but conceptually-charged design approach.

What kind of relationship should exist between the garment and the body?

An emotionally charged one - somewhere between love, desire, mystery and comfort. A garment should be an extension of the body and soul. Fashion needs to be felt. My muses that I tailor the garments to, are often people close to me and how I feel about them shapes the garments they inspire me to make. It's another conversation: that between garment and body and I’m in a feedback loop with my muses during the design process in order to modify the garment based on their experience. 

How do you ensure your work is not reduced to sustainability or upcycling?

Sustainability is not my primary motivation. I work with materials sourced outside fashion’s conventional system, rethinking their use and making them desirable for clothes, giving them a stage to tell their own story. The focus is on aesthetic and conceptual value, quality and functionality, as well as sustainability. Although I would describe myself as somewhat of a hoarder, making it a coping mechanism to repurpose materials into polished and clean garments in order to declutter—literally and metaphorically.

What are the next steps for your work within fashion?

To expand the dialogue and deepen the narrative dimension—through collaboration, new contexts, and material experimentation —while exploring accessories as an extension of the practice.

Esra is wearing a top from ORNELLA PROSPERI and a jacket from ESRA VON KORNATZKI

---

photography JULIAN MELZER
designer ESRA VON KORNATZKI
styling XUAN
talent SEKOU + ESRA VON KORNATZKI + ROMEO ULTRA
hair + make up JANETTE PETERS
assistant YEONGHYEON KANG

ELMIENE *That’s How Elmiene Lets Songs Become Someone Else’s

That’s How Elmiene Lets Songs Become Someone Else’s

interview + written KLAAS HAMMER

Elmiene proves that the future of neo-soul and contemporary R&B is in good hands. With his gentle voice, smooth production, and emotionally raw, poetic songwriting, the British-Sudanese artist blends modern sounds with a sense of nostalgia. His track “Someday” perfectly captures this signature style.

His rise began unexpectedly when a viral 2021 cover of D’Angelo’s “Untitled (How Does It Feel?)” caught the attention of producer Lil Silva, marking a turning point in his career. Since then, he has released several EPs and standout singles, earning recognition such as a top-five placement in the BBC Sound of 2024 poll and a BRIT Award nomination for Rising Star.

Following a steady stream of releases, including his 2026 single “Reclusive,” Elmiene now offers a first glimpse into the next chapter of his artistry with his debut album „sounds for someone“.


Elmiene / photographed by Andres Castillo

Klaas Hammer
The title of your album, “sounds for someone,” feels almost like an open-ended idea as if your music is speaking for or to someone specific. Who is that “someone” to you?

Elmiene
I don’t think it’s ever been one fixed person, you know. The songs feel like they belong to me at first, and then once they’re out, they don’t anymore—they become whoever needs them. So ‘someone’ could be anyone. It could be me at a certain time, it could be someone I’ve loved, or someone I’ve lost. I liked leaving it open, because I want the music to find people where they are, rather than telling them who it’s for.

You were born in Frankfurt, raised in Oxford and have Sudanese roots - three very different cultural spaces. How do these influences show up in your music and shape the way you create?

I think those different places show up more in how I feel than in anything obvious. Growing up in Oxford, I was quite internal, quite observant—I spent a lot of time in my own head, and that definitely shaped how I write. And then Sudan is more like memory and inheritance. It’s family, it’s stories, it’s emotion that’s been passed down. So the music becomes this mix of introspection and legacy—trying to understand what’s mine and what’s been given to me.

Listening to your recent work, there’s a strong sense of intimacy and introspection. What themes or inner tensions were you trying to explore or make sense of in this project? And can you tell us a bit about the recording process behind the album?

This project was me trying to sit with a lot of different emotions at once. I felt lonely sometimes, I felt loved sometimes, I felt guilty, I felt forgiven—it was quite overwhelming at points. A lot of it comes back to love and loss, especially around my dad, and just trying to make sense of memory. I wanted it to be really honest, even in the smallest moments, like zooming in on things that might seem insignificant but actually carry a lot. The recording process was quite instinctive—we weren’t chasing perfection, just trying to capture something real before it disappeared.

Elmiene / photographed by Andres Castillo

When watching you perform, what stands out is not only the warmth and emotion in your voice, but also a very natural stage presence. Did you always feel like the stage was where you belong, or is that something you grew into over time?

I think I grew into it over time. I never really saw myself as someone who was meant to be on stage—it felt quite distant at first. But then I realised performing is just an extension of the song. I’m not trying to be anything different up there, I’m just singing something that means a lot to me. And I think that’s what makes it feel natural now—there’s no performance on top of it, it’s just the feeling.

Your music often feels like a very direct emotional outlet, almost like a diary set to sound. Are there things you find you can only express through music, but not in conversation?

Yeah, definitely. There are things I wouldn’t know how to say in conversation, or maybe I just wouldn’t feel comfortable saying them. With music, you can sit in a feeling without having to explain it or resolve it. You can contradict yourself, you can be vulnerable in a way that doesn’t need to be justified. It’s the only place where I feel like I can be completely honest.

With your family roots in Sudan, a country currently facing significant challenges, how does that reality shape your perspective as an artist? Do you feel a responsibility to reflect or respond to it through your music?

It’s always present in some way. Even when I’m not speaking about it directly, it shapes how I see things—family, identity, everything really. I don’t feel like I have to make explicit statements all the time, but I do feel a responsibility to be honest and to carry that part of me properly. If I’m telling my story truthfully, then Sudan is already in it. And if that resonates with someone or makes them feel seen, then that’s important.

seen by Andres Castillo
talent Elmiene
thanks to Cherry

Eva Lys Shares Her Camera Roll: The Porsche Tennis Grand Prix

#ThePersonalEdit

Eva Lys Opens Her Camera Roll from the Porsche Tennis Grand Prix

written KLAAS HAMMER

For this edition of The Personal Edit, Eva Lys offers a glimpse into the rhythm of life on tour, sharing moments from her personal camera roll that capture what unfolds both on and off the court at the Porsche Tennis Grand Prix in Stuttgart.

Few sports demand as much travel as tennis. From Miami to Stuttgart, on to Rome and Madrid, before returning to Paris at the end of May for the clay-court highlight of the season, Roland Garros, the calendar rarely slows down. The young player gives us an inside look at what tournament life really entails: sponsor commitments, catching up with fellow players, training sessions, and the in-between moments that often mean spending long stretches of time in yet another hotel.

The Stuttgart tournament stands out each year, both for fans and players alike. Time and again, the organizers succeed in bringing the biggest names on tour to the region. For Eva, the season hasn’t had the easiest start, marked by injuries and a series of narrow losses. But tennis is a sport that always offers another opportunity, another match, another tournament — a chance to turn things around is never far away. Eva has already shown what she’s capable of, proving that with her powerful and versatile game, she can challenge even the top seeds. With her keen sense of style, she’s also one to watch beyond the court, set to bring a distinct presence both in her performance and in how she carries herself.

Shot on her phone and paired with her own captions, The Personal Edit stays close to the tennis circuit — game, set, match.

one of the sexiest center courts

media day with Porsche

forever young in the Porsche Museum

test driving the new car with my little sister

Coco and I at the players’ party

the beauty of a clay court

me and my crush

the view doesn’t get better than that

sitting in a car that was gifted to Ferdinand Porsche

my all-time favorite

the interior speaks for itself

late-night walk after the match to find some pasta at 11:30 pm

little test drive with friends

all images
(c) Eva Lys

The Personal Edit of Samuel Bottomley: From Dundee to the Barras

#ThePersonalEdit

Samuel Bottomley Opens His Camera Roll From California Schemin’

written LE MILE

For this edition of The Personal Edit, Samuel Bottomley shares a glimpse into his personal camera roll from the making of California Schemin'. Shot between Dundee, Glasgow and later festival stops, the images follow the intensity of a production built around performance, music and a tight-knit cast and crew.

Based on the true story of Scottish rap duo Silibil N’ Brains, the film moves between high-energy stage moments and the quieter reality of long shooting days, preparation and collaboration. Bottomley, who takes on one of the lead roles, documents that rhythm from within: first days on set, rehearsals, live crowd scenes, and the atmosphere shared with co-star Séamus McLean Ross and director James McAvoy. Shot on his phone and paired with his own captions, The Personal Edit stays close to the process — on set, on stage and in between.

This was the first day on set I think, definitely the first week up in Dundee and the first time I’d seen a proper directors chair with the directors name on it, so I had to get a pic. All the crew working hard in the background. It was such an exciting set to be on and all the crew really believed in the job too. I was working on a job in Scotland before this and, talking to some of the crew on that, it sounded like everyone up there was buzzing about the project.

Séamus McLean Ross outside the Barrowland. This was, for both of us, the most surreal and daunting time of our lives.

On stage at the Barras. As you can see, I’m so burnt out. Rapping in time while jumping around on stage and trying to give the biggest energy we could to hype up the audience was tough. However, being directed while being in front of 2000 people and having to perform “Superhero” is one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. Felt like a rockstar.

This was once we had finished and got all the shots we needed. James promised the crowd a big photo at the end and everyone had refrained from using their phones during the takes to keep it authentic to the period. We got this great picture to show for it.

This is me on the Easyrig. The DOP and I really got along, I had worked with his wife around a year or so before. I was being cheeky and asked if I could try it out in between a set up. I wasn’t expecting him to say yes and as you can see, I’m buzzing.

We walked into a room full of cardboard cut outs of ourselves. It’s mental just looking around seeing your face everywhere. Some of the stuff in there made great souvenirs to take home though, loads of CDs with our faces on, stickers, pens, hats, packets of Silibil n Brainz sweets. The set designers actually brought the cardboard cut outs to the wrap party and we took them around the next few pubs with us. On my way home I left one cut out of me lifting my skateboard up over my head like a weapon right outside my apartment and it stayed there for a few weeks after.

Séamus and I trying to get a cool pic of us from the monitor while the camera pointed at us.

Big pic. Kudos to all the incredibly talented and hard working crew, they brought it 100% everyday and I have so much respect for all of them. I’ve learned so much about film through just watching what they do and asking questions.

Lucy Halliday and James McAvoy leaving a breakfast spot in Toronto the day after our film premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival. So glad that I got this photo - these two just look so cool.

“Hey Lucy” what are the chances? Lucy put that jumper on after breakfast and it made my day.

Séamus and I after picking up a special mention award at Rome Film Festival for our performances in the film. It’s a massive honour to receive something like that and we were both so shocked, we didn’t expect it at all.

all images
(c) Samuel Bottomley

GIULIO UGOLINI *Want to Learn About Love?

Want to Learn About Love? Talk to Him.
*GIULIO UGOLINI

interview + written CHIDOZIE OBASI

Love, ay? We all feel it, think about it, and are hurt by it in one way or another. For 29-year-old lifestyle consultant Giulio Ugolini, this swirling, poignant emotion lays at the crux of his creative journey. But before we dive deep within, let’s look back at his early stints. After a path in political science, Ugolini decided to make his foray into the fashion world during his first year of university. He later modeled for nearly seven years.

Giulio wears a total look by PRADA

“I've always found it an interesting job, but simultaneously felt that I was missing something, because other than being able to express the aesthetic side of things I wanted to convey something more,” he says. Beyond the fixtures of the fashion industry, he then got engaged for the first time in 2021, and when he was trying to build a more serene and peaceful life, Ugolini came to terms with the fact that the industry never poured in a fixed economic or mental stability, which led him back to Florence with his girlfriend and study. “I took a master's degree in food and beverage management,” he says. And then, in the middle of the masters, my relationship with this person ended. “It was my first relationship, so with me being a very emotional person and someone with strong feelings, I suffered a lot myself,” he confesses. “Despite everything, I finished my studies and began working as a manager in Florence.”

During such a path, he was taking everything that the past relationship brought along the way. “It didn’t end very well, so I started to expose these shreds of fragility on social media,” he says. “When I started doing it, I saw that a lot of people saw themselves in this pain post-relationship,” he opines. “I saw that the hope within love was always less for most people, and my numbers started growing quite drastically.” But there’s more to the story.

Upon moments of deep introspection and wishful thinking, Ugolini decided to start a soft healing process with a podcast, titled Dillo a Giulio (Italian for ‘Tell Giulio’). “When I chose to embark on this journey, I noticed that love was always seen as an elite element, something only a few people have and that those who work across social media make it look just like a beautiful thing,” he says. “There were never weaknesses or frailties, so I wanted to bring the voices of all the people in order for them to be able to express themselves and tell their stories, to show that love is not always beautiful and that it is made up of more bumps and difficulties than straight lines.”

Giulio wears a total look by PRADA

Giulio wears a coat by TELA, a shirt by MICHAEL KORS, and shorts by THE LATEST

The more he went on with it, the more letters came through, marking a point of discernment for the podcaster: “I fully realised that love unites us all,” he tells me, his head tilting with joy. “Everyone's story is different and lives in their own way, but we’re all involved in this great feeling that unites us,” he says. “I’ve seen that people are afraid of showing themselves as fragile and vulnerable, but the moment they show it, they become even stronger than they were before.” Ugolini also understood the importance of freedom of expression within masculinity. “Men shouldn't feel powerless if they show themselves weak in front of others,” he says. “Everything was born from a break-up, and now I consider this format as a guide for all the people who want to state their story.”The podcast currently drops on YouTube, but there’s hope for expansion. “Everything is written and ready to be broadcasted on other platforms, because it's an idea that even listening to it without seeing it conveys a lot,” he says. “In fact, I'm a radio lover for this reason.” Ugolini is also eager to bring the format to the cinema spectrum, as a drama student, because of his curiosity to compare stories of real people to those of movie-related characters.

“The current format is between eleven and eighteen minutes, but I’m hoping to stretch it to perhaps half an hour and invite guests in the podcast such as psychologists and industry people,” he says. Ugolini’s well aware that he doesn’t want to tell anybody how to love. “I don't have a degree in that,” he grins. “I want advice and add tips about stuff I’ve experienced first-hand,” he concludes, adding his willingness to “analyse things in a neutral way, while giving advice that doesn't hurt but uplifts.”

Giulio wears a coat by TELA, a shirt by MICHAEL KORS, and shorts by THE LATEST

Giulio wears a sweater by RANDOM IDENTITIES by Stefano Pilati, a T-shirt by MANUEL RITZ, and pants by HED MAYNER

credits
all Images (c) LE MILE
and Cosimo Buccolieri

photography COSIMO BUCCOLIERI via STUDIO REPOSSI
fashion market director + stylist CHIDOZIE OBASI
head of production JESSICA LOVATO
fashion coordinators ALBERTO MICHISANTI + EDWARD PUSCA
make up CHIARA GUIZZETTI via THE GREEN APPLE ITALIA
hair FUJIWARA TAKAHASHI via MKS MILANO
talent GIULIO UGOLINI
photography assistant ANTONIO CROTTI
fashion assistants SIMONA VERNAZZA + ANGELINA PERSIANI + SOFIA FARINA + CHARISSE ORDINARIA + LUIZA ANGELOVA + CHIARA DE BONIS

CHARLOTTE DAY WILSON *That Version that Stays Untouched

That Version of Charlotte Day Wilson that Stays Untouched

interview + written ALBAN E. SMAJLI

Charlotte Day Wilson continues to work from a place that remains closely connected to how she began, building songs in isolation and protecting that condition as a necessary part of her process. What started as a private space to explore her voice and identity without interruption still defines how she approaches music, requiring a level of focus where outside noise, expectations, and constant communication are pushed aside in order to reach a state where decisions come from within.

Charlotte wears a Vector jacket by CAMPILLO, a shirt and pants by WANGDA, a ring by AGMES, earrings by GRISÉ, and shoes by TWOGAA

For Patchwork, this way of working becomes more deliberate through repetition and revision, moving away from immediacy and toward a process that involves returning to songs multiple times, adjusting details, and testing whether they reach a point that feels fully resolved. Her earlier releases, including CDW, Stone Woman, Alpha, and Cyan Blue, already established a clear direction, but the most significant shift comes through her role as a producer, where growing confidence replaces previous doubt and allows her to define structure, pacing, and final decisions without relying on external validation. This position enables her to recognise that she is best suited to produce her own work, reinforcing a process that remains internally guided.

Collaboration stays part of her process, grounded in ease, mutual awareness, and working with people who know when to contribute and when to step back, creating a space where trust supports the work. Visual elements follow the music, with imagery and clothing developing from its tone, turning style into an extension of her language shaped by identity, perception, and the way she chooses to present herself in public. Her current direction moves toward a more reduced approach, with an interest in creating space within recordings and limiting the number of elements involved, allowing each sound to carry more weight without relying on density. This shift continues the logic that has defined her work so far, refining it through a more concentrated and controlled use of sound.

Charlotte wears a HELGA womens polo by CALVIN KLEIN COLLECTION and a necklace by GRISÉ

Charlotte wears a HELGA womens polo by CALVIN KLEIN COLLECTION, jogging pants by WANGDA, a necklace by GRISÉ, and Moto Boots 1.0 by SUNNI SUNNI

Alban E. Smajli
Looking back to the moment you started making songs alone in your room, what part of that early creative energy do you still try to protect today?

Charlotte Day Wilson
I think I still try to protect the aloneness of it. The feeling of uninterrupted exploration with oneself. It’s not always easy to truly be alone, even when you are alone. There are always creeping thoughts of other people, other music, texts and emails that need to be responded to, a friend you haven’t checked in on in a while. Tuning out all the noise and finding a flow state where none of that can penetrate your focus and it’s just you and the music.. I always hid who I was from the outside world so music became my sanctuary where I could express and discover myself. I protect that sanctuary with my life because I probably wouldn’t really have one if it weren’t for it.

Did you approach Patchwork differently than your earlier releases?

I approached Patchwork differently than the music I’d recently put out. I went back to the version that I was just talking about in the last question. Really indulging in myself, however long it takes. Deep focus, deep alone-ness, searching for magic and glorious lifts. On Cyan Blue, the approach was “first thought best thought” which was very fun. But this time I reconsidered a lot and repeated and repeated, adding slight variations, until I found the glory. If the glory never came, the song didn’t make the cut.

When you look back at CDW, Stone Woman, Alpha, Cyan Blue, and now Patchwork, what feels like the most important shift in your relationship with music?

I would say the most important shift in my relationship with music is my confidence as a producer. I needed this project to remind myself that I’m good at what I do. I lost the plot many times over the past few years, doubting that what I was making could possibly be good enough. I know now, that not only am I good enough, I am the best producer for my music.

What kind of creative chemistry do you look for when collaborating with artists like Kaytranada, BADBADNOTGOOD, or Saya Gray?

I look for ease. But most of all now, I look for people who empower me and I look for people who I want to empower. So much of the time our greatest critic is ourselves. Sometimes all you need is for someone like Saya to remind you you’re on the right track. A great producer knows when to intervene and when not to. This requires a tame ego, which is not always so present in this industry.

How do you feel when fragments of your music appear in songs by artists like Drake or John Mayer?

I think it’s incredible. Once my music is out in the world it takes on a life of its own and it always amazes me to see the unexpected places it goes.

Charlotte wears a jacket by WANGDA, a cropped shirt by CALVIN KLEIN, Arco pants by CAMPILLO, and boots by STONE ISLAND

Charlotte wears a uv-reactive hoodie by STONE ISLAND and a necklace by AGMES

“If Only” circles around the idea of moments just out of reach. Are there experiences in your life that continue to shape your writing years later?

Yes of course. A lot of the time when I’m writing I don’t even know who or what I’m writing about. I let my subconscious do the talking. Sometimes I won’t even realize until years later what my subconscious was trying to tell me, or what memory I was revisiting. I learn a lot about myself in the unraveling after a song is pulled out of me.

How important is the visual world around your music when you begin shaping a new project?

It’s important but it’s not everything for me. The music can often provide an answer to a visual question but not the other way around.

What role does clothing or style play for you when performing or creating visuals?

Clothing is very important to me. Like music, it’s a language that not everyone speaks. How we present ourselves in public says so much about how we want to connect or not connect with others. I always think about the very human desire to be accepted and I think clothing plays such a huge role in how we can achieve acceptance. I think that’s something a lot of people have a hard time being honest about when it comes to clothing but I know deep down it’s true for so many of us. It’s an expression of gender, of “class”, cultural identity, and the relationship we have between our body and our mind. On the days where I feel tired and lacking in personality, I might try dress better so that even though I’m a dud of a person that day, my odds of acceptance are higher with a nice outfit on. I think when I’m 60 I’ll start dressing without any concern for how my outfits impact others but for now I’m engaged in the social conversation of it all and I find it fun.

When you imagine the next phase after Patchwork, what kind of sonic territory feels exciting or still unexplored for you?

I get excited about the idea of extreme minimalism. Lots of air in a recording, less stacks of sound. I don’t think I’ve quite approached music like that yet and I want to try.

Charlotte wears an ASHLEY womens trench by CALVIN KLEIN COLLECTION, a shirt by WANGDA, and earrings by GRISÉ

talent CHARLOTTE DAY WILSON

seen TAKAHIRO OGAWA via FACTORY DOWNTOWN
stylist PACO LAMPECINADO
hair KELLY NOVOBIELSKI
make up MARIA ORTEGA via SOUTH JAMES
production MUSIC IS MUSE
creative direction TAKAHIRO OGAWA + PACO LAMPECINADO

The Personal Edit of Krista Papista: During the Making of Euro Divas

#ThePersonalEdit

Krista Papista Opens Her Camera Roll During the Making of Euro Divas

written LE MILE

For this edition of The Personal Edit, Krista Papista shares fragments from her camera roll captured during the making of her recent album Euro Divas. Moving between a residency in the Czech Republic, travels across Asia, and the final stages in her Neukölln studio, her images trace a process moving across geographies, states of mind, and shifting identities.

Based between Berlin and Athens, Papista works across music, film, and performance, building a practice rooted in queer ritual, erotic mythology, and hybrid sound. Drawing from Cypriot, Greek, Middle Eastern, and Balkan influences, Euro Divas emerges as a layered world shaped by memory and transformation. Built from spontaneous snapshots and paired with her own reflections, The Personal Edit becomes a visual diary of creation — capturing the environments, bodies, and moments that fed into the album’s formation.

Journal of shows. Fusion festival, Art Explora, Schinkel Pavilion, Chauffer dans la Noirceur.

Stalagmites in the neighborhood, and a photo of my mums’s village Kythrea.

EURO DIVAS VINYLS ARE DONE AND SENT OVER TO ATHENS.

I started working on Euro Divas album in the Czech Republic. I did an art residency in the country side in the Czech Republic. The accommodation provided was in a monastery, I had the peace & privacy to devote myself to the album 100%. It was a sad little town, bordering Poland, some beautiful Baroque churches, I developed 40% of the album there. My track Heartmode was inspired by this fountain that I found on a wall in the monastery, they say you can only manifest what you want, when you are operating from Heartmode.

While traveling in Vietnam, I went in a Hare Krishna temple and found a photo of myself as baby goddess, I tried to get into it but I couldn’t. Vietnam was incredible.

BRIDGE IN FISH VILLAGE , EL NIDO PHILIPPINES.

The mandolin I played on Eurotrash.

I came back from traveling and finalized the production and mixing of my album in my studio in Neukölln. I was drinking about 3 bottles of Nature Energy a day, they don’t produce them anymore :/ why? Final stages of mixing took place in November, the whole of Berlin turns yellow and red.

WHERE I'M I.

all images
(c) Krista Papista

MYRIAM BOULOS *The Photographic Worlds

The Photographic Worlds of Myriam Boulos
Pas de mode d’emploi pour le chaos

interview + written ALBAN E. SMAJLI

A city simmers beneath its own legends, the flavor of diesel and cardamom mixing with the hum of aftershocks and the slow unfurling of light across battered facades, and it is here that Myriam Boulos lifts her camera, not in search of the dramatic or the picturesque but to gather the residue of touch, the quiet accumulation of moments that cling to walls, slip through open doors, and root themselves in skin.

Myriam Boulos
Sexual Fantasies 2023

Myriam Boulos
Ongoing War, 2024

Beirut, compass and constant, shapes her visual language—a grammar built on light leaking around corners, voices echoing in courtyards, the thick air bending time, bodies weaving through memory and anticipation. Each photograph absorbs the density of this world, carrying the textures and temperatures of lived experience without the urge to isolate or resolve, every frame a continuous exchange, a movement toward feeling without the pressure of conclusion.

The Foam Paul Huf Award, long established as an amplifier for new photographic perspectives, acknowledges Boulos not through ceremony or simple recognition but by making space, a shift in the ongoing geography of the medium, allowing a current to pass from the streets of Beirut into the global bloodstream of image-making. The work circulates as a living archive, a collective diary shaped by encounters, complicity, and the urge to bear witness without reducing complexity to explanation.

Myriam Boulos moves with a certainty shaped by intuition, the city’s sound and temperature anchoring her practice even as the images begin to travel—entering new rooms, new languages, new ways of seeing. As she prepares her solo exhibition at Foam, the work assembles itself as an ecosystem, layering tenderness, unrest, desire, and refusal into a sequence that resists summary and insists on being felt. In these images, the right to feel is inhabited, lived, and sustained, and the city—her city—never steps outside the frame. The conversation that follows steps into this territory, unfolding through a landscape shaped by accumulation, intuition, and the enduring presence of feeling that moves steadily through each image and word.

Alban E. Smajli
You shoot in chaos, but your images feel calm. Is that contradiction intentional?

Myriam Boulos
Ouf, I never thought of my images as calm! It is funny because people also perceive me as a calm person, but in my head, things are anything but calm. Maybe my images are a way of exteriorizing and organizing my internal chaos?

Offline—does that word feel like a refuge, or a threat?

Both. It makes me dream of the idea of refuge, because I think most of us are addicted to the online world, but it also makes me think of the minutes right after the Beirut port explosion, when we were forcibly offline without understanding what was happening and without being able to reach our loved ones. It also makes me think of Gaza, which is forcibly offline on the worst nights of Israeli bombings during the ongoing genocide.

Offline can also suggest being disconnected from dominant systems or structures. Do you see your practice as a conscious step outside of what photography is "supposed" to be?

Honestly, I am not trying to fit or not fit into anything when I create images; I am just trying to be honest with myself. The images are encounters between my internal world and the universes of the people I photograph. But I do consciously and constantly deconstruct the medium of photography, which is historically colonial and patriarchal.

How do you decide what to show, and what to protect?

Being aware of the power of images and our responsibility as photographers, when I take risks, it is hand in hand with the people in the images: they are the ones who choose what they want to show or hide. From there, I usually follow my gut; I know when a picture is a big crush for me or not. I know if I want to share it with the world or not.

You mention that your images are also about the right to feel, to desire, and not be defined by normalized pain. What emotional truths are you most committed to revealing?

It is important for me to take space with our emotions in general. As a highly sensitive person, I always feel a lot, and this comes with the bad habit of trying to hide my emotions in order not to be “too much.” Photography is a way of channeling my emotions without feeling any shame. It is also important for me to document different types of emotions and realities as a way of defying Western media’s often stereotyped, reductive, and harmful representations of our region.

Myriam Boulos
Whats Ours 2019

Who are you photographing for?

For myself, for the people in the images, for people who will find themselves in these pictures, and for people who do not think like me.

Sexual fantasies, war, neuro divergence—your work isn’t afraid of complexity. What’s the one thing people always get wrong about it?

Complexity makes it difficult for people to put me in boxes. I think the person behind the images is one thing people tend to get wrong!

What’s the most fragile thing you’ve ever captured and what’s a picture you couldn’t take?

Wolfgang Tillmans said, “If one thing matters, everything matters.” I think everything is fragile and should be handled and photographed with care, tenderness, and consideration. The pictures I couldn’t take are the ones I take in my dreams. It is a particularly frustrating feeling to wake up and not have a trace or a proof. Max Kozloff said, “With photographs, we have concrete proof that we have not been hallucinating.” But dreams are real to me, and I wish I could keep pictures from this world, too.

Being the first artist from the Middle East to win the Foam Paul Huf Award is groundbreaking and makes you part of a global art conversation. Do you care about that? And what does it mean to take up space as a Lebanese artist—right now, in this global frame?

I am so grateful to be part of this global conversation. I think it’s the photography industry’s role to engage with as many photographers as possible from our region. There are so many talented photographers in the Middle East, and it is necessary to see our part of the world from different perspectives and not only through a few photographers.

Myriam Boulos
Whats Ours 2019

Myriam Boulos
Ongoing War 2023

Beirut is always present. Is it your subject, your background, or your collaborator?

I think Beirut is more like my anchor. I always feel like a little alien, but in Beirut I feel more grounded. The thick air, the contrasted light, the landmarks—my body feels at home here. I feel like this is where my roots are, this is where life is, and this is where I want to understand myself and share love with others.

You once said your photos are about tenderness. Has that changed?

I think tenderness is what I will always look for—in myself, in other people, in images.

You’ve been called a storyteller. Do you feel like one or more like a collector of moments?

I feel like I am more of a collective diary-teller, if that is a word! Or a collector of diaries in the context of collective histories and experiences. But I usually call myself a documentarist.

As you prepare for your solo exhibition at Foam in 2026, what kind of visual or emotional narrative are you hoping to construct?

I hope to put together already existing work in a new way, one that will make me learn things about myself, if that makes sense.

What do you hope someone 20 years from now will feel when they look at your work?

I just hope they will feel. Anything. I can’t choose what I provoke in people, but I would be sad if my images did not provoke anything. I also hope that it brings new perspectives to people who are not informed about some realities but still have preconceived ideas about them.

First published
LE MILE Offline Edition No. 39 FW25/26

courtesy for all images (c) Myriam Boulos
header image Ongoing War, 2024 photographed by Myriam Boulos

IZZY MEIKLE-SMALL * Between Television and Independent Film

Izzy Meikle-Small
Between Television and Independent Film


interview + written SARAH ARENDTS

Joining Outlander in its penultimate season places Izzy Meikle-Small inside a production that has been running for years, with an established cast, a fixed workflow on set, and an audience that follows the series closely. She appears as Rachel Murray, a character whose decisions are guided by her Quaker faith, which led Meikle-Small to spend time researching the community in detail and understanding how belief informs everyday behaviour. That work translates directly into the performance, shaping how the character speaks, how she reacts in conflict, and how she holds her position within scenes that carry multiple timelines and intersecting storylines.

Alongside this role, Meikle-Small continues to develop her own projects through producing. EMIKO JONES, a short film she produced, combines a bilingual narrative with elements of musical storytelling and was developed together with writer and director Hanako Footman. The production process required close involvement in creative and practical decisions, from structuring dialogue across two languages to managing the limitations of a low-budget shoot, resulting in a project that reflects her growing interest in shaping stories from the ground up.

This direction extends into her plans to direct her own short film while continuing to act, with a clear focus on independent productions where she can remain closely involved in performance and development. Feature-length work is part of that trajectory, with the intention to build projects that allow for sustained creative control across all stages of production.

Outlander episodes are being released weekly on Starz and MGM+.

Sarah Arendts
Looking back at your early years as a child actor, which experiences from that time still shape the way you approach your work today?

Izzy Meikle-Small
I think that stepping on your first set at such a young age inherently changes how you experience it. As a kid you still see acting as ‘going to work’ but it’s ultimately much more playful and less self conscious. Something in that remains in how I work. I wouldn’t say I was an unselfconscious person, but when I’m on set I do feel like that falls away in a specific way. I think that must be because of how I first experienced the environment.

With the eighth season of Outlander marking the end of a very long cultural phenomenon, how did it feel to step into such an established world and find your own space within it?

It’s definitely a little daunting to join later on in a series. They already had six seasons in the can so you know everyone will have very established relationships in the cast and crew, and that fans are very engaged and will have specific expectations. But to be honest, it couldn’t have been a better experience for me, on both sides. On set I was welcomed in with open arms, and made to feel at home very quickly, and the fans have been incredibly supportive, even from my casting announcement. It’s been a real privilege to get to join such an iconic show and be part of that story. 

What aspects of Rachel Murray’s worldview were most interesting for you to explore as an actor?

Rachel’s faith is hugely important to her character. It’s the core of who she is, how she makes her decisions, how she chooses to move through life. I didn’t know much about Quakers before starting the show, so getting to dig into researching the community was really interesting. Quakers are very cool! They were very progressive. Ultimately I think that her faith and her moral compass define her, almost moment-to-moment, and I’d never played a character who had such an external force influencing their decision making, so that was very interesting to balance.

With your upcoming guest lead appearance in Call the Midwife, what continues to draw you toward historical storytelling and period drama?

I think period dramas seem to choose me! I do love them, but I would love to wear a pair of jeans for a job one day… No but seriously, for Call the Midwife, I actually was drawn in by my character, Thelma. Her story arc is pretty gnarly, but ultimately ends in hope. I think that’s generally what draws me to a job, the character and their specific emotional arc. Call The Midwife is amazing at having guest roles that are very well rounded with very satisfying pay off.

Beyond acting, you are actively producing your own projects. At what point did you start feeling the need to shape stories from behind the camera as well?

I think it links back to me being a child actor. I grew up on sets, surrounded by all these people who were experts at their various crafts. I was in awe of them all, but didn’t really understand what any of them did. I wanted to understand filmmaking at every level, and I decided the best way to do that was to start making projects myself. While I was at University I helped out some friends on a couple of short films and then really got addicted. In the end, acting or producing, its all storytelling - it’s just different input & output.

With your short film Emiko Jones exploring a musical format across two languages, what interests you about projects that experiment with form or cultural perspective?

Emiko Jones got sent to me while I was filming the final season of Outlander. I remember thinking that I’d never read a short like it, and I had to do it. I knew it would be an ambitious short, especially on a low budget, but I just had to make it. Growing up I loved watching old school musicals, and I loved that this story was reclaiming that traditional genre for a more inclusive take. Bilingual films are becoming more and more popular, which I think is amazing. Being able to showcase different cultures in the mainstream is very important - and this film is all about feeling seen and understood, even if imperfectly. But for me the main draw to make this film, was the writer/director, Hanako Footman. She’s become a very close friend, and I think she’s a special talent. 

With Bedcrumbs approaching a failing relationship through queer comedy, what do you think humour can reveal about emotional situations that drama sometimes cannot?

Ross O’Donnellan the writer, is very good at black comedy and acerbic wit. His scripts fling dialogue back and forth like a tennis match. However, left in the wake of that humour is a very particularly sense of vulnerability. I think it’s well known that people use humour to deflect - whether that be sadness, insecurity, whatever! I think that the use of humour in this particular story, reveals more honesty of emotion than if it had been a straight drama. I always think it’s more interesting to let an audience figure out how they feel about something, rather than being told how to feel - and I think comedy is the perfect tool for that. Make them laugh, and then deliver a real gut punch.

As someone who moves between acting and producing, do you feel that one role changes the way you approach the other on set?

Definitely. I think now that I understand how a set runs, I can feel much more settled in my role as an actor. Sometimes it’s hard in the business of set to understand what’s happening - why we are delayed, why a camera change is taking a long time, why we’ve done 20 takes of the wide - and often in the not knowing you end up thinking it’s your fault - especially as a kid! It’s very freeing to understand when it is and isn’t you to blame. And then with producing, I’m made to think of the whole production from a perspective of serving the creative. It’s about the story, and telling it right. Rather than putting budget first, it’s always the creative for me (and also obviously coming in on budget!).

What kinds of stories or creative collaborations are currently exciting you the most as you think about the next phase of your work?

I’m looking to direct a short this year. It’s been on my mind for a while, and I feel like I’m ready to make that jump. I have another short I’m set to produce that we are currently seeking funding for too. But ideally I’d love to level up to something bigger scale. I’m not sure what that looks like yet. Maybe a feature? We will have to see. On the acting front, I’d love to do an independent feature. I think that’s where my heart lies as an actor and  as a producer. I started in films as a kid - long form TV has been an amazing learning curve, and I’d love to continue to do more - but I would really love to do a feature sometime soon.

talent   IZZY MEIKLE-SMALL
photography   BRENNAN BUCANNAN
styling   GRACE RADHAKRISHNAN
make up   NOHELIA REYES
pr   PROSPER PR

copyright LE MILE Magazine / Brennan Bucannan