This week, a pound of flesh.

If one thing can be said of Kieslowski’s work it is that it is a city of fog. The Decalogue can only be seen through a glass darkly.

Youth deafens and demands to be heard. It's the essence of most creative movements in history.

You tell me that acceptance is an “end to internal conflict” - I think that's beautiful, is it possible?

A mistake - seen in discourse concerning the legacy of de Staël and others - is the romanticising of melancholy in art.

Is this divine, or simply Arca's world as we glimpsed it?