For the first time in more than 50 years, NASA launched a mission to the Moon. A lot has changed since 1972, when we last checked in on the enormous, rocky satellite, but there is much to learn—and revisit—when it comes to traveling through deep space and considering what, as NASA describes it, a “long-term return” to our lunar companion could look like. The Artemis II mission, which is currently underway and scheduled to last a total of 10 days, has also released some remarkable images of ou
For the first time in more than 50 years, NASA launched a mission to the Moon. A lot has changed since 1972, when we last checked in on the enormous, rocky satellite, but there is much to learn—and revisit—when it comes to traveling through deep space and considering what, as NASA describes it, a “long-term return” to our lunar companion could look like. The Artemis II mission, which is currently underway and scheduled to last a total of 10 days, has also released some remarkable images of our home planet.
A striking image of the Earth “setting” behind the cratered Moon takes a truly unique view of our planet and prompts us to consider our perspective. It’s reminiscent of one of the most iconic photographs of all time, known as “Earthrise,” which was snapped by astronaut William Anders during the 1968 Apollo 8 mission—the first crewed trip to the Moon.
The Earth setting beyond the Moon
Artemis II is scheduled to return to Earth on the evening of April 10, when the crew will splash down into the Pacific Ocean off the California coast.
The Moon’s cratered surfaceThe far side of the Moon
When we think of Los Angeles, we often picture seemingly endless sunny skies, postmodern downtown skyscrapers, Hollywood, and beachy enclaves like Venice. But there’s also a mysterious, lurking side of Los Angeles popularized by legendary gangsters like Mickey Cohen and the hardboiled novels of Raymond Chandler, published between the 1930s and 1950s.
For Emmy award-winning director and photographer Daniel Sackheim, this gritty, shadowy underbelly lends itself to a series of bold black-and-
When we think of Los Angeles, we often picture seemingly endless sunny skies, postmodern downtown skyscrapers, Hollywood, and beachy enclaves like Venice. But there’s also a mysterious, lurking side of Los Angeles popularized by legendary gangsters like Mickey Cohen and the hardboiled novels of Raymond Chandler, published between the 1930s and 1950s.
For Emmy award-winning director and photographer Daniel Sackheim, this gritty, shadowy underbelly lends itself to a series of bold black-and-white photos that highlight the noir valence of this iconic hub. His forthcoming book, The City Unseen, leans into L.A.’s dualities, focusing on historic buildings, trains, and individuals walking through urban spaces.
“900 EXPOSITION BLVD”
Often silhouetted in patches of sunlight, Sackheim’s dramatically cinematic effects of deep shadows and crisp highlights suggest a kind of timelessness. Even the daytime shots feel eerily as if they could be shot during a full moon or amid uncanny artificial light. In a city that is both contemporary and steeped in history, “Sackheim’s journey through these urban spaces is a testament to the paradox of the night, where stillness and trepidation walk hand in hand,” says a statement.
Sackheim is curating an exhibition alongside photographer Julia Dean for Ren Gallery, which is slated to open in May. The City Unseen is scheduled for release on May 12. Find your copy from Hat & Beard Press, and see more of Sackheim’s work on Instagram.
“LOWER GRAND AVENUE”“OMOIDE YOKOCHO”“936 WEST FLORANCE AVE”“SOUTH BROADWAY AT 1ST ST”“12601 VENTURA BLVD”“842 SOUTH BROADWAY”
When Moffat Takadiwa sees a pile of rubbish—old technology parts, personal care items, clothing—he doesn’t just see a bunch of junk. The Harare, Zimbabwe-based artist has spent the better part of two decades collecting thousands upon thousands of pieces of plastic and metals foraged from landfills near the city’s Mbare neighborhood, where heaps of electronic equipment waste, also known as e-waste, ends up in illicit dump sites. In his studio, vast collections of colorful objects are meticulou
When Moffat Takadiwa sees a pile of rubbish—old technology parts, personal care items, clothing—he doesn’t just see a bunch of junk. The Harare, Zimbabwe-based artist has spent the better part of two decades collecting thousands upon thousands of pieces of plastic and metals foraged from landfills near the city’s Mbare neighborhood, where heaps of electronic equipment waste, also known as e-waste, ends up in illicit dump sites. In his studio, vast collections of colorful objects are meticulously sorted into collections.
Takadiwa is known for his elaborate sculptures made from what he describes as “everyday consumer residue”—discarded computer keyboard keys, toothbrush heads, plastic combs, buttons, and more. The colors, textures, and patina of wear and age produce patterns that it’s tempting to describe as “organic,” even though the materials are the opposite.
Detail of “Muchapihwa Korona”
The artist’s current solo exhibition, The Crown! at Semiose, highlights the tension not only between visual harmony, consumer culture, and waste but also those of what curator Fernanda Brenner describes in the exhibition essay as “the tensions of Africa’s post-colonial afterlife.” Takadiwa describes it as the “colonial hangover.” For instance, afro combs appear throughout the show, “rooted in African traditions and the colonial self-fashioning they forced,” Brenner says. “Once tools for grooming and ritual, these combs now bear the weight of resistance and pride in Black political life.”
Takadiwa’s compositions drape, tapestry-like, with repetitive patterns and textures that alternate between softness and brittleness. From the distance, the details of unique components blur into a fabric-like substrate, but upon closer inspection, nail polish brushes, caps, and keyboard keys in various states of aged yellowing emerge as individual tributes to overconsumption and excess. “The result is beautiful, which is where the trouble begins,” Brenner writes. She continues:
If beauty could settle old scores, the art world would have solved more than it has…Rearranging the materials does not erase their origins. If you have ever pressed ‘delete’ and believed the problem was gone, his work offers a quiet correction. Nothing disappears; it only travels, usually to places like Mbare, where Takadiwa opened his artist-run space in what used to be a colonial beer hall.
The Crown! continues through May 16 in Paris. See more on the artist’s Instagram.
“Combed Hair” (2026), keyboard keys, buttons, plastic toothbrush heads, combs, and nail polish parts, 110 1/4 x 61 inches“The Crown (2)” (2026), keyboard keys, plastic toothbrush heads, and nail polish parts, 72 1/16 x 55 1/2 inchesDetail of “The Crown (2)”“Pink Nails” (2026), keyboard keys, plastic toothbrush heads, combs, and nail polish parts, 92 1/2 x 59 13/16 inchesDetail of “Pink Nails”“The Consumer Portrait” (2026), keyboard keys, plastic toothbrush heads, combs, and nail polish parts, 59 1/16 x 54 5/16 inches“Daily Reflections” (2026), keyboard keys, plastic toothbrush heads, combs, and nail polish parts, 70 7/8 x 45 11/16 inchesDetail of “Daily Reflections”
Chiseled from wood, Aleph Geddis’ spindly, playful, vaguely alien wooden sculptures evoke an enigmatic tension between identity and glyph. His organic, hand-worked objects teeter between abstraction and figuration like retrofuturistic icons. The artist lives between Japan, Bali, and Orcas Island in Washington. “This split has been incredibly generative, allowing me to carry my practice with me and respond to very different environments and energies,” he tells Colossal.
Scale is a constant
Chiseled from wood, Aleph Geddis’ spindly, playful, vaguely alien wooden sculptures evoke an enigmatic tension between identity and glyph. His organic, hand-worked objects teeter between abstraction and figuration like retrofuturistic icons. The artist lives between Japan, Bali, and Orcas Island in Washington. “This split has been incredibly generative, allowing me to carry my practice with me and respond to very different environments and energies,” he tells Colossal.
Scale is a constant source of fascination. Geddis has recently been working on a series he calls Littles, which are “inspired by the way children disappear into dreamy, imaginative worlds while playing with toys,” he says. “They feel personal and secretive, almost like talismans.”
On the larger side, Geddis is lately considering how pieces may transform into site-specific responses to environments. He’s also currently working on a large-scale project for the Burning Man festival amid Nevada’s Black Rock Desert, which people will be able to walk through. “I love the idea of these forms existing in the clean, open environment of the playa, where they can be experienced at a completely different scale and in relation to the vast desert landscape.”
Some of Geddis’ works are currently on view at Crow Valley Gallery on Orcas Island alongside the work of his aunt, Kate Geddis. See more on the artist’s Instagram.
Archaeologists have long known that the ancient peoples of North America—not unlike us—played a lot of games. Going back millennia, cultures around the world developed myriad ways to keep entertained, and for a long time, it was thought that the first dice ever used could be traced to the ancient Eastern European and Near East cultures of Mesopotamia, the Indus Valley, and the Caucasus. But according to a new paper by Robert Madden, published by Cambridge University Press, games of chance dev
Archaeologists have long known that the ancient peoples of North America—not unlike us—played a lot of games. Going back millennia, cultures around the world developed myriad ways to keep entertained, and for a long time, it was thought that the first dice ever used could be traced to the ancient Eastern European and Near East cultures of Mesopotamia, the Indus Valley, and the Caucasus. But according to a new paper by Robert Madden, published by Cambridge University Press, games of chance developed much, much earlier than originally thought—halfway around the world.
Researchers previously believed that the earliest dice originated about 5,500 years ago, but Madden shares that examples excavated in North America date back as far as the Late Pleistocene—the Ice Age. Among the oldest reported examples are a few found in modern-day Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico. The rich archaeological sites in these places are associated with the Folsom Culture, representing a dispersed hunter-gatherer lifeway that extended across the North American West, Southwest, and Great Plains around 12,000 years ago.
Examples of dice with details showing microscopic traces of pigment, with color enhanced for illustration
“The dice tend to show up in liminal spaces where you have a lot of high mobility,” Madden told Live Science. “It might have something to do with how separated these people are and the need to relate to people you don’t see very often.”
In the report, Madden also says that “the making and using of dice represent humans’ first known efforts to intentionally generate, observe, and record streams of controlled, random events…” He adds that, possibly for the first time, people were comprehending patterns or regularities in probability—a kind of precursor to understanding what we now call the law of large numbers. Anthropologists consider this to be “a crucial early step in humanity’s evolving discovery and understanding of randomness and the probabilistic nature of the universe.”
When we think of somewhere we’ve been, what are the first things to come to mind? Perhaps there are memorable smells, a sense of other people being around, or a particular quality of light. But what if we remembered landscapes and experiences through plants? For Hillary Waters Fayle, flower petals, seeds, and foliage combine into a kind of album of various places, which she then uses to create bold cyanotypes.
The artist has long worked with botanicals and other organic materials, notably
When we think of somewhere we’ve been, what are the first things to come to mind? Perhaps there are memorable smells, a sense of other people being around, or a particular quality of light. But what if we remembered landscapes and experiences through plants? For Hillary Waters Fayle, flower petals, seeds, and foliage combine into a kind of album of various places, which she then uses to create bold cyanotypes.
The artist has long worked with botanicals and other organic materials, notably embroidering foraged leaves and feathers with meticulous geometric designs. With the series Portraits of Place, which she’s been pursuing for the past six years, Fayle precisely arranges individual petals and leaves into intricate, symmetrical, mandala-like compositions on acrylic.
She starts by collecting and drying botanicals from specific locations, such as Grace Farms Foundation in New Canaan, Connecticut, or Maymont Park in Richmond, Virginia. These are then laid onto watercolor paper that’s been painted with UV-sensitive iron salts. After being left out in the sun, these result in the bright blue cyanotypes that chronicle the outlines—perhaps one could even say the spirit—of the distinctive layouts.
“The way these portraits illustrate a very particular place and time via botany can be a way to define the relationship that the people of that place have with the land—almost like a modern-day florilegium,” Fayle tells Colossal. She continues:
All of these pieces are so different and special to me, but it has been particularly meaningful to make portraits of areas that are going to change drastically in the near future, either from development or rising sea levels, fire, etc. It feels like a way of preserving and honoring the land and all that is present there right now.
Flowers and plants symbolize the natural evolution of particular spaces, such as a gardener adding new bulbs or birds depositing seeds. They symbolize the nature of seasons and life cycles, emphasizing a relationship that is simultaneously enduring and ephemeral. See more on the artist’s Instagram.
One of the many reasons artists like Lee Krasner, Jackson Pollock, Franz Kline, Cy Twombly, and other mid-20th-century pioneers of painterly abstraction were so innovative for their time is the use of the deliberate yet loose brushstroke. Pollock intuitively dribbled and splattered paint on surfaces spread across the floor of his studio, and Kline created bold, monochromatic paintings with just a few deceptively simple, gestural strokes of a large brush. It’s this visceral approach to visual
One of the many reasons artists like Lee Krasner, Jackson Pollock, Franz Kline, Cy Twombly, and other mid-20th-century pioneers of painterly abstraction were so innovative for their time is the use of the deliberate yet loose brushstroke. Pollock intuitively dribbled and splattered paint on surfaces spread across the floor of his studio, and Kline created bold, monochromatic paintings with just a few deceptively simple, gestural strokes of a large brush. It’s this visceral approach to visual rhythms and color that continues to awe us today. (A major retrospective highlighting both Krasner and Pollock’s work is slated for The Met later this year.)
For artist Liza Lou, the calculation of brushstrokes, color, and gesture opens the door to another media type altogether—beads. The artist is known for using the material, including a large-scale installation titled “Kitchen,” which took five years to create. In her recent work, she adds thousands of the diminutive baubles in myriad colors, shapes, and sizes to sweeps of oil paint on canvas. Tapping into the legacy of Abstract Expressionism, Lou parses the relationship between gesture, intention, organic forms, and the brushstroke as a subject unto itself.
Detail of “Enjambment”
Lou’s works appear this month in FAQ, a solo exhibition at Thaddaeus Ropac. The title references questions that the artist returns to again and again in her practice. When does a painting become not a painting? Can a brushstroke be more than a brushstroke? “These works are about amplification—about making things more ideal,” Lou says. “There’s a poem by Fernando Pessoa where he writes about wanting flowers to be more flowers than flowers, and in this body of work I’m using my material as a way to make paint more paint than paint.”
Unlike a quick swipe of a brush, each bead is meticulously placed amid a field of others, creating a chromatic topography. Lou likens them to painting “straight-out-of-the-tube,” except that they can’t be mixed on the canvas. She relies on color relationships, textures, and precise placement to give the impression that, from a distance, the loose strokes and splatters have blended or merged. When viewed up close, we see distinct, saturated topographies that, in a rather macro sense, are delightfully sculptural with the soft ground of painted details underneath. “My process involves this improv where every stroke requires everything I have, my full attention,” Lou says. “Every mark becomes this kind of violin-crescendo-holy shit-experience.”
FAQ opens on April 10 and continues through May 23 in London. See more on Lou’s Instagram.
“Onomatopoeia” (2026), oil paint and glass beads on stretched canvas, 52 x 51 x 1.75 inchesDetail of “Onomatopoeia”“Analepsis” (2025), oil paint and glass beads on stretched canvas, 42.75 x 41.75 x 1.75 inchesDetail of “Analepsis”“Stanza” (2025), oil paint and glass beads on. stretched canvas, 52 x 51 x 1.75 inchesDetail of “Stanza”“Ecphonesis” (2026), oil paint and glass beads on stretched canvas, 42.75 x 41.75 x 1.75 inches
The surprise of turning onto a street to see a vibrant mural—or the joy of viewing several in progress during popular festivals like Nuart Aberdeen—is essentially an ephemeral experience. Murals may be designed to last several decades, or they may be temporary installations that address a particularly interesting bit of local history or urgent social issue, but either way, the experience is brief as we walk by. Always vulnerable to the elements and new development, these pieces don’t always l
The surprise of turning onto a street to see a vibrant mural—or the joy of viewing several in progress during popular festivals like Nuart Aberdeen—is essentially an ephemeral experience. Murals may be designed to last several decades, or they may be temporary installations that address a particularly interesting bit of local history or urgent social issue, but either way, the experience is brief as we walk by. Always vulnerable to the elements and new development, these pieces don’t always last long. That’s where Art UK’s archive comes in.
As a digital platform, Art UK connects viewers to public collections around the nation. There are about a million artworks on the site, drawn from around 3,500 collections, including museums, libraries, hospitals, town halls, and more. The organization also recently reached a significant milestone in its ambition to map and catalogue street art and murals across the country. Just a little more than two years after launching the initiative, Art UK has added more than 6,600 new works to its database, bringing the total number of public artworks to well over 21,000.
Ranging from small, spray-painted pieces by the notoriously enigmatic Banksy to large-scale compositions by Rogue-one, The London Mural Company, and more, the scope is daunting. “Our initial aim for the project was simple: we wanted to record 5,000 murals and wall-based artworks from across the U.K.,” says Art UK’s Public Art Manager, Tracy Jenkins. “The artworks would date from A.D. 1000 to the present day and include wall paintings in historic churches, post-war ceramic and concrete works, and contemporary painted murals and mosaics.”
Volunteers dedicated more than 5,000 hours to locating and photographing the works. The database includes many that are decades old at this point, emphasizing their sites and condition in case they’re ever threatened by future redevelopments. Most of the works are relatively recent, but Art UK doesn’t discriminate based on date or even if they’re outside. A series of otherworldly paintings inside of St. Thomas’ Church in East Shefford, Berkshire, for example, are centuries old.
Jenkins notes that the project launched at a time when street art and mural-making in the U.K. were experiencing a boom, and the addition of these aesthetic installations within an urban context “has been shown to significantly reduce the instances of unsightly tagging graffiti,” in addition to boosting visitors and local economies. She also acknowledges “public art in any form can be contentious, sparking debate and strong emotion… Street art and muralism is in many ways the most democratic genre—it is not created in a faraway studio, it is not locked behind closed doors, and it does not require prior expert knowledge.”
Creating an archive of street art and murals is a way to build engagement and also understanding of the medium, promoting a feeling of what Jenkins calls “community ownership and pride,” where moments of artistic, informative, playful, and celebratory work delight around city corners. See a handful of additions below, and explore the database on Art UK’s website.
Living in a high-rise apartment or a house with a small yard comes with the disadvantage of not having access to garden space. Fortunately, fine wallpaper manufacturer Astek has a way to bring beautiful blooms indoors. The company’s collection of dreamy floral mural designs called Eterna Nouveau reinterprets the Art Nouveau movement of the early 20th century, which historically flourished in Europe and emphasized nature-inspired motifs like flowers and birds.
Eterna Nouveau’s arching, sinu
Living in a high-rise apartment or a house with a small yard comes with the disadvantage of not having access to garden space. Fortunately, fine wallpaper manufacturer Astek has a way to bring beautiful blooms indoors. The company’s collection of dreamy floral mural designs called Eterna Nouveau reinterprets the Art Nouveau movement of the early 20th century, which historically flourished in Europe and emphasized nature-inspired motifs like flowers and birds.
Eterna Nouveau’s arching, sinuous stems and leaves nod to its namesake style’s characteristic “whiplash” lines. “Aquavita,” for example, features lilies and other water plants and illustrates life both above and below the surface. And “Carnivoria” celebrates more unusual plants, like Venus flytraps. A variety of colorways emphasizes the designs’ bold forms and delicate metallic outlines.
The motifs were first created by hand, then digitized so that they can be sized up or down to fit custom spaces. Printed to order, the colors and shapes can even be customized for special projects. See more on Astek’s Instagram.
Through atmospheric, black-and-white photographs, Yamamoto Masao explores the emotional connections between image and memory. His intimate, otherworldly gelatin silver prints evoke dreamlike archival footage that has been somehow unyoked from the normal rhythms of time. His subjects vary, although he often focuses on landscapes and natural subjects, including a number of owls that roost in trees near his home in Japan.
Ten Owls at Yancey Richardson marks the artist’s seventh solo exhibitio
Through atmospheric, black-and-white photographs, Yamamoto Masao explores the emotional connections between image and memory. His intimate, otherworldly gelatin silver prints evoke dreamlike archival footage that has been somehow unyoked from the normal rhythms of time. His subjects vary, although he often focuses on landscapes and natural subjects, including a number of owls that roost in trees near his home in Japan.
Ten Owls at Yancey Richardson marks the artist’s seventh solo exhibition with the gallery, showcasing intimate portraits of the nocturnal birds. No larger than 10 inches on the longest side, these images are intended to be viewed up close in a way that brings these elusive creatures much nearer to us than we ever experience in the wild.
Often peering directly at the camera, their alert, sage, sometimes wary or candid looks evoke a sense of emotional connection. Each avian is an expressive protagonist, with the deep blacks and soft edges of Yamamoto’s prints inviting reflection and empathy.
Over time, the impact of development in the countryside where Yamamoto lives has drawn his attention to these winged, woodland denizens. “Owls have always been a familiar presence to me,” Yamamoto says. “However, as the number of people living in the forest grew, those with no interest in the laws of nature began clearing the trees. Sadly, the owls’ perches are vanishing. Even so, when I hear their faint hooting echoing from somewhere in the distance, I feel a sense of peace.”
Ten Owls opens on April 16 and continues through May 22 in New York. See more on Masao’s Instagram.
Known for his collaborative photography projects like Invisible Jumpers, Joseph Ford is interested in perception and intervention. His ongoing series, Impossible Street Art, invites artists such as Antonyo Marest, Alex Senna, and MadC to imagine their work in monumental landscapes via a bit of sleight of hand. The artists create trompe-l’œil interventions on Ford’s photographs, which he then documents on an easel in front of that same place to give a sense of what these huge paintings or inst
Known for his collaborative photography projects like Invisible Jumpers, Joseph Ford is interested in perception and intervention. His ongoing series, Impossible Street Art, invites artists such as Antonyo Marest, Alex Senna, and MadC to imagine their work in monumental landscapes via a bit of sleight of hand. The artists create trompe-l’œil interventions on Ford’s photographs, which he then documents on an easel in front of that same place to give a sense of what these huge paintings or installations would feel like in situ.
“These new works mostly explore infrastructure in the form of huge concrete constructions—nuclear power plants, dams, fossil fuel power stations,” Ford says. The locations are often connected to the industries and network of energy production, such as hydropower systems, or logistical configurations related to highways and ports.
Alex Senna, Luzzone Dam, Switzerland
For example, the nuclear power station “painted” by Skirl is situated in a sprawling nature preserve on England’s east coast, adjacent to the Suffolk & Essex Coast & Heaths National Landscape, and a new plant is currently under construction despite much local opposition.
“These locations are physically in the public domain and dominate their surroundings through their huge scale, but often have restricted access. They are imposed on us—it is impossible not to see them—but it is impossible to engage with them, use them, or sometimes even approach them.” By superimposing street art on otherwise inaccessible sites, Ford and the participating artists address these looming constructions and the nature of energy production as “a way of reclaiming and engaging with them,” he says.
See Ford’s work this month at The Other Art Fair in Chicago, which runs from April 9 to 12. Find more on Instagram.
Skirl, Sizewell Nuclear Power Plant, U.K.Sen2, Willington Power Plant, Derbyshire, U.K.RH Doaz, Jersey Turnpike, New JerseyGuy Denning, Luzzone, SwitzerlandMadC, Luzzone Dam, SwitzerlandChris RWK, New JerseyJoe Iurato, Morris Canal Basin, New Jersey
When we visit major hubs like Copenhagen or Paris, we often take a lot of photos and make sure to grab a little souvenir as a memento of our visit. How better to remember the architecture and the feel of the city? Well, fiber designer Jake Henzler, a.k.a. Boy Knits World, figures you can stitch those memories into something much cozier than a postcard or a keychain.
Forthcoming from David & Charles Publishing, Henzler’s book Knit the City highlights buildings around the world through a
When we visit major hubs like Copenhagen or Paris, we often take a lot of photos and make sure to grab a little souvenir as a memento of our visit. How better to remember the architecture and the feel of the city? Well, fiber designer Jake Henzler, a.k.a. Boy Knits World, figures you can stitch those memories into something much cozier than a postcard or a keychain.
Forthcoming from David & Charles Publishing, Henzler’s book Knit the City highlights buildings around the world through a series of building block-like patterns. Using a modular system, details like gables and windows can be switched up to create your own unique facades. Then it’s up to you to choose the colors you’d like to use. The blocks can then be stitched together to create a blanket, pillow covers, or any other application you can come up with.
Knit the City is slated for release on May 5. Pre-order your copy in the Colossal Shop. You can also find Henzler’s patterns on Ravelry.