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German architecture firm Behet Bondzio Lin Architekten recently constructed a new headquarters for the Association of the Northwest German Textile and Garment Industry in Münster, Germany, and they wanted the building to allude to the association’s work with fabric. The result is this undulating brick wall that imitate the folds of fabric. The architects say the alabaster folds of Max Klinger’s statue of Beethoven located at the Leipzig Art Museum was an inspiration. See more photos at Colossal (via Colossal)

Reached via email, Marshall didn’t want to talk further for this article at the moment, he said. But earlier this month, in a comment reported after the opening of a show of his work at David Zwirner, his London gallery, the artist sounded more acrid than in Kelly’s depiction.

“I am certain they could get more money if they sold the Picasso sculpture in Daley Plaza,” he said, in a quote that first appeared in ARTnews.

He also referenced the enormous mural he completed last year on the west exterior wall of the Cultural Center: “Considering that only last year Mayor Emanuel and Commissioner Kelly dedicated another mural I designed downtown for which I was asked to accept one dollar, you could say the City of Big Shoulders has wrung every bit of value they could from the fruits of my labor,” he said.

Ara Güler, a native of Istanbul, began his photographic career at the city’s Yeni Istanbulnewspaper in 1950. He went on to work for the Turkish daily, Hürriyet, and from there toward work for international titles and worldwide acclaim. On meeting Henri Cartier-Bresson in the early 60s Güler joined Magnum Photos, and remained close to many at the agency until his death, aged 90, on Wednesday 17 October. 

As Orhan Pamuk says, it was in Ara’s photographs that Istanbul’s streets, in the 1950s and 1960s, were best captured, documented and preserved. Ara likes to emphasize the documentary and journalistic aspects of his work, incredibly vast and rich, rather than the artistic side of what he calls his “archives”.

Ballet, like balance, is an illusion. Standing still on point is not a static act, but a flurry of micro-muscles working in tandem to make a body float. Days and years disappear as dancers train to hide the effort behind their superhuman strength. They have enough pressure; what’s exciting is that the dancers at City Ballet don’t have to live in a horror movie any longer. They can focus on grace.

If healing is the word of the day, decolonization may be the word echoing uneasily through the night. Though it is mostly academics and activists who invoke decolonization directly, the ideas behind it are alive among Indigenous people young and old. “Decolonize your mind” has become a popular phrase among Indigenous people and other people of color, almost to the point of cliché. In my language, some scholars have even coined a word for it: biskaabiiyang, meaning “to return to ourselves.”

To heal, these Indigenous thinkers argue, we must return to our traditional practices. Drums that were outlawed beat again. Sweat lodges are built once more. Across the continent, Indigenous people are bringing back ways that have been persecuted for a century or more. Even the medical industry, the psychiatrists and psychologists, have started to warm to the idea that Indigenous spirituality is essential for Indigenous healing.

I wanted to believe her then, to trust that long-hidden tradition could be the solution to the problems that ailed me, my family, and my people. In that time I was emerging from a period of severe clinical depression that had lasted over five years, leaving my late teens and early adulthood spotted with holes of foggy memory and failure. Five years of the medical model had been unable to bring me back to life, and the tide only turned when I moved home and transferred to a First Nations studies program at the local university. The following two years living in an environment where I was surrounded by other Indigenous people who affirmed our Indigenous ways of knowing and being seemed to have accomplished what therapy could not. The road forward looked bright and decidedly red in those days.

Meanwhile, the houses of the elite, designed by architects and included in architectural history, become either storied private properties or house museums. Common housing that has been faithfully maintained sometimes joins the ranks of these desirables; otherwise it becomes a subject of archaeology. Even if buildings old enough to have “character” are restored—such as nineteenth-century factories whose walls enclosed the horrors of labor—they are, in the end, transformed into lofts whose luxuriousness is subsidized by taxpayers. Just as a fraction of the U.S. population hoards most of its wealth, a tiny number of buildings are chosen to house its history. And these buildings, more often than not, offer a history owned and controlled by the social, political, economic, or cultural elite.

“I thought there was something fishy about the whole thing from the very beginning,” Strother recalled. “Lee told me that he had set up the whole Monkey Business deal. ‘I did it!’ he told me. ‘I fixed Hart.’ After he called me that time, I thought, My God! It’s true!

Strother’s conversation with Atwater happened in 1991. He mainly kept the news to himself. As the years went by, he discreetly mentioned the conversation to some journalists and other colleagues, but not to Gary Hart. “I probably should have told him at the time,” he said recently. “It was a judgment call, and I didn’t see the point in involving him in another controversy.”

So we decided to write up a brief history of the NYC slice before we put out our list of the slice shops that define the current slice era. Some of what you find written below may contradict things we’ve said in the past, collectively and individually, but we’ve done our best to give a general picture of how the New York City pizza slice evolved over the years, using the best of our current knowledge on the subject—all without introducing more confusion. Let’s go!

People on the internet are saying I am the queen of Sweden, because in the legend of King Arthur, he was given a sword by a lady in a lake, and that meant he would become king. I am not a lady – I’m only eight – but it’s true I found a sword in the lake. I wouldn’t mind being queen for a day, but when I grow up I want to be a vet. Or an actor in Paris.

Required Reading is published every Sunday morning ET, and is comprised of a short list of art-related links to long-form articles, videos, blog posts, or photo essays worth a second look.

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What does Rutherford Falls, a new TV series that prominently features two small town museums, tell us about the way people see the contentious stories on display in history and art institutions?

Hrag Vartanian

Hrag Vartanian is editor-in-chief and co-founder of Hyperallergic. You can follow him at @hragv.