Think of a subway station and what comes to mind is a dark and busy place, likely dirty and filled with old metal and concrete. Fortunately, there are exceptions to this. One of them is the colorful ¹ and bright Westfriedhof Subway station in Munich, Germany, that departs from the common conception of subway stations ² and instead bathes the visitor with colorful beauty.

What sets Westfriedhof apart is its lighting concept, developed by renowned designer Ingo Maurer ³. Red, blue and yellow lights shine brightly from the station’s oversized lamps. Each of the 11 domes, measuring an impressive 12 feet in diameter, casts a vibrant glow that transforms what would otherwise be an average metro station.

A brief history

The station was opened in 1998 and had its impressive lamps, 11 in total with red, yellow and blue lights, installed in 2001. It is located on the border of the Neuhausen-Nymphenburg and Moosach districts and for four years since it was opened, it was the northern terminus of the U1 line.

The metro station was planned by the architecture studio Auer and Weber, in collaboration with the city’s urban subway department.

As Maurer later reflected ⁴⁵, At the beginning of my career, I focused a lot on the shape of lamps. Later I realized that the light itself is much more important than the form. This evolution in thinking is evident in the way Westfriedhof relies on color and light to define the space, rather than decorative elements or elaborate fixtures.

Thus, due to its radiant lighting that illuminates up the entire platform area without leaving any dark corners, the metro station looks like a bright cave. The enormous domed lamps emit a warm neon glow of red, blue or yellow light across the platform and the tracks, making passengers’ wait more pleasant.

The lighting

The raw concrete, in combination with the huge aluminum lampshades, makes it seem like a factory hall converted into an art center, making the transport hub appear more lively. To reflect the aluminum lampshade, 12 fluorescent tubes are set back far into each dome.

I wanted people to feel comfortable in an underground space, as if they were living in a room and not in a train station.— Ingo Maurer on U-Bahnhof Westfriedhof (2010, Stylepark ⁶⁷)

Meanwhile, the domes are suspended from the ceiling using silver-lacquered steel frames. With each lampshade fitted with a colorful fluorescent tube, the raw concrete walls and ceiling surfaces are bathed in blue light, with varying tones and intensity depending on the positioning and reflection, creating a vivid yet calming atmosphere.

Other architectural features

Aside from the lamps, the station is devoid of tacky and superfluous decor and the station consists of bare shaft walls, stainless steel furniture and ceilings and walls of exposed concrete.

The cave-like surfaces are reinforced by the rough wall surfaces that come from the little treated milled diaphragm walls that lie between and where the station was excavated. The rock-like structures were left uncovered as a design feature because the architects liked that look better than using glass as they initially intended to add to the semi-natural feel of the station.

I want people to simply experience my objects and not analyze them in any particular way, said Maurer in 2019 ⁸⁹, underscoring his desire for emotional impact over intellectual interpretation.

The careful coloring and lighting intensity and placement are what make the entire place look warm enough, even with the contrast of the exposed concrete, that can remind one that the station’s name refers to ‘cemetery’.

Meanwhile, the ceiling has airy openings through the stairwell of the station that allow daylight to penetrate through. With this environment, lighting and visually interesting features, it has become a popular photo-taking destination for many advertising agencies.

My perception of light is so strong and distinctive, almost an obsession. This forces me to continuously play and experiment with the reflection and the art of light.— Ingo Maurer on his approach to design (2007, Interview ¹⁰¹¹)

Final words

With its bold lighting concept, raw materials, and minimalistic design, Westfriedhof Station transforms a functional space into something atmospheric and memorable. Ingo Maurer’s visionm driven by emotion rather than analysis, turns this underground stop into an immersive ¹² experience that continues to surprise and inspire visitors decades after its creation.

What does it mean to learn from a city like Macao, rich in history, culture, and architectural ¹ spectacle? Learning from Macao invites viewers to reflect on the dynamic relationship between art and urban life.

The mega-mural ² is displayed on the outdoor wall of the Handover Gifts Museum of Macao. It was commissioned by the Cultural Affairs Bureau of the Macao SAR for Art Macao: Macao International Art Biennale 2021. It’s a visual love letter to the city’s unique culture and architecture.

The artwork was conceived by the mainland-based Drawing Architecture Studio ³ (DAS) as a fresh take on the city’s identity. The artists wanted to create a new urban design concept for the 21st century inspired by Macao. They eventually took inspiration from an unlikely source: the infamous casinos of Macao.

A quick history of the panorama

The mural’s creation post-pandemic coincided with a time when the world was rethinking public spaces ⁴. DAS seized this moment to paint Macao not through its colonial past but through its vibrant, controversial present. The mural is now part of the permanent collection at the Macao Museum of Art after it was acquired by the institution.

The mural’s title deliberately echoes the influential 1972 book Learning from Las Vegas ⁵⁶, which challenged architects to find value in commercial vernacular. DAS applies this same revolutionary spirit to Macao, arguing that the city’s casino architecture, often dismissed as gaudy or excessive, deserves serious artistic consideration just as Las Vegas’s neon-lit ⁷ landscape did decades earlier.

A canvas of complexity

Installed on the outer wall of The Handover Gifts Museum of Macao, the mural is divided into five distinct sections, separated by narrow horizontal windows on the wall. Each section is a world unto itself, yet they connect to form a cohesive urban landscape.

The artwork’s most striking feature is its innovative use of casino game interfaces as inspiration for urban planning. The layouts of popular games like pinball, pachinko, craps and roulette serve as the underlying structure for each section of the mural. 

Inspired by casino architecture’s bold symbolism, DAS doesn’t just represent Macao’s buildings but transforms gaming elements into architectural forms. Casino chips become building towers and gaming machine components are reimagined as urban installations, embracing the unabashed expression of desire and excitement that defines both casino games and their architectural homes.

Where reality meets fantasy

The mural is a masterpiece in visual storytelling. It blends real landmarks with imaginary structures, creating a cityscape that is at once familiar yet fantastical. Casino buildings, historical sites, and vernacular architecture are rearranged on these game-inspired plans, creating new urban narratives.

In a playful twist, the artists have transformed casino chips and dice into buildings, while elements from gaming machines become landscape installations. These whimsical touches are integrated with real architecture, blurring the lines between reality and imagination.

The mural’s vibrant colors and exuberant details capture Macao’s energy. Line elements such as pipes, sky trains, and highways connect the five sections, creating a unified urban landscape that pulses with life. 

The artists behind the mural

DAS, co-founded in Beijing and led by Li Han and Hu Yan in 2013, brought together a team of talented individuals to create this masterpiece. The team included Zhang Xintong, Xu Xiaoxuan, Lyu Nuo, Wang Yuxuan, Tang Xinyu, Meng Xinqi, Zhu Haihui, Yang Zhexu, and Zhong Junye.

Known for their unique approach to architectural representation, Drawing Architecture Studio has produced other notable works such as The Complete Map of Capital Beijing and the 798 Panoramic Mural. Their style combines rigorous architectural understanding with a playful, almost childlike sense of wonder.

Final words

As visitors take in Drawing Architecture Studio’s mural, they might find themselves asking: What makes a city memorable? Is it the architecture, the culture, or the stories we build around them? By merging reality and imagination, the mural invites us to see Macao from a fresh perspective — one where playful creativity meets structured design.

But beyond its vibrant visuals, this artwork raises deeper questions about how we experience urban spaces. Is architecture just a backdrop, or can it actively shape how we engage with our surroundings? In a city known for spectacle and entertainment, Drawing Architecture Studio’s mural encourages us to rethink the purpose of architecture itself — not just as something to look at, but as something to interact with, question and reimagine.

The Kyiv Crematorium is a striking neo-modernist concrete structure nestled on the outskirts of the Ukrainian capital, Kyiv. It marks a turning point in how Ukrainian society addresses death. Built when cremation was a contentious subject due to historical trauma, the design aimed to create a therapeutic environment, free from associations with destruction.

Cremation was a thorny subject in Ukraine when the idea of building a crematorium in Kyiv was brought forward. That is partly because of the Second World War genocide and subsequent incineration of Jews in Ukraine off the back of the horrors of the Nazi massacre at Babi Yar. With that in mind, the larger complex known as Memory Park was designed to delink the structure from any association with the cremation process.

To avoid associations with World War II and concentration camps, the architects aimed to create a space that would serve as a tranquil memorial, encouraging reflection rather than evoking destruction. The concept of Memory Park was conceived as a place of contemplation, far removed from the grim connotations of traditional crematoriums.

Initially, the project faced significant resistance. Many architectural workshops in Kyiv refused to take it on, as working on a crematorium was associated with the grim legacy of World War II atrocities. In fact, as artist Vladimir Melnychenko recalled ¹:

No one wanted to leave their name as the author of such an object.

Today, the Kyiv Crematorium is one of the most prized Soviet-era neo-modernist projects. It comprises a series of white curved concrete structures designed to create a therapeutic and serene aura for the mourners and funeral attendees who bid farewell to their departed loved ones.

The Kyiv Crematorium

The oddly-designed concrete complex, the only crematorium in Kyiv, is adjacent to Baikove Cemetery and was constructed in 1975. From an architectural and art standpoint, the crematorium is one of the most cited buildings in the modernist architecture of Kyiv. It was designed by lead architect Abraham Miletsky, in collaboration with the artist-architect duo Vladimir Melnychenko and Ada Rybachuk, who were primarily responsible for the artistic vision of the complex.

The building complex consists of three expressive and organic Halls of Farewell, each featuring a dome that resembles a burning flame. Six gas-fired furnaces at the bottom of the structure help with the cremation of 20 to 30 bodies per day. The Memory Park complex also comprises halls for military & civil honors and memorial services.

The structure looks so futuristic that few would guess at first glance that it’s a crematorium. — Yuriy Tatsiiy (former Deputy Director of the Department of Urban Planning and Architecture, Kyiv City State Administration, 2020, liga.net ²)

The architects Ada and Vladimir deliberately ensured that the white concrete building didn’t have any right angles or clean lines typical of traditional buildings. In fact, their collaborator architect Miletsky had envisaged the building a classic rectangular structure on the Baikova Cemetery’s terraced slope, but the duo quashed this design.

The completed structure included a 75-meter long underground tunnel to connect the farewell halls with the crematorium itself. They also incorporated a columbarium on the slopes around the crematorium building complex.

Wall of Memory

What’s more, Vladimir and Ada envisaged a design with beautiful stained glass windows ³ to add more aura and a sense of airiness to the crematorium, but their aspirations never came true.

They also created the Wall of Memory, a monumental bas-relief spanning approximately 213 meters and covering a total area of 2,200 square meters, designed to depict the universal human experience of life and death through allegorical scenes of creativity, struggle, and renewal.

It took the architects and artists around a decade to mold all the sculptures, construct the essential frames, and prepare the wall. However, they didn’t manage to complete the monumental project due to the harsh political climate.

The wall was nearly completed by early 1982. However, before its official unveiling, Soviet authorities deemed it ideologically inappropriate, claiming that it didn’t align with the Soviet realism ⁴ principles, and ordered the bas-reliefs to be covered with concrete, effectively concealing the artwork for decades.

This decision was a crushing blow for Ryabachuk and Melnychenko. The concealment not only denied them artistic recognition but also interrupted their vision of creating a place where people could contemplate life, death, and memory.

Restoration efforts have since begun, with 120 square meters restored by late 2021. Despite these efforts, most of the wall remains hidden, and full restoration has yet to be achieved. While the Wall of Memory was fully constructed, it was never officially presented in its entirety due to the Soviet-imposed concealment.

The Wall of Memory is the most important work in our lives.— Volodymyr Melnychenko (Радіо Свобода ⁵)

Meet the artists, designers & architects

The Kyiv Memory Park was designed and constructed over a long period between 1968 and 1981. The lead architect was Abraham Miletsky. The husband-wife duo of Vladimir Melnichenko and Ada Rybachuk was responsible for the design, concept, architectural invention of technology for creating the Wall of Remembrance and the architectural plastic copyright modeling of the crematorium complex. A. Podgorny did the geometric construction of the Halls of Farewell.

Restoration efforts

In the years following the covering of the wall with concrete, artists and well-wishers from America and Europe were ready to put in some money and effort to restore the pane. But the Soviet leadership and authorities that fought for the independence of Ukraine were unrelenting and gave the restoration appeals a deaf ear.

Over the years, artists from many corners of the world have shown interest in donating to the restoration efforts to remove the concrete and reveal the Wall of Remembrance in all its glory.

While Kyiv authorities have shown limited commitment to a full restoration, some progress has been made: A 6-square-meter patch of the bas-relief was restored in May 2018 during the Kyiv Art Week festival.

More recently, in 2024, a major restoration plan has been outlined, including repairs to structures and replacement of outdated equipment. However, it appears that this plan is in preparation stages, with scientific studies completed, a project prepared, and awaiting final approval before work starts in spring 2025.

Conclusion

The Kyiv Crematorium is an impressive example of neo-modernist architecture, offering a fresh perspective on how we design spaces for mourning. Its presence encourages us to rethink how grief, memory, and art can come together in one place.

Over time, its purpose has grown beyond its original intent. What was once a bold and unusual project now feels like a powerful symbol of healing and coming to terms with the past. It shows how architecture can confront painful histories while also providing a space for reflection and peace.

What does it mean to confront the shadows of history, especially when those shadows loom as large as the Mask of Sorrow? Looming over the remote ¹ city of Magadan in northeastern Russia, the monument serves as a jarring reminder of the countless lives shattered by Soviet oppression.

The sculpture was built in Magadan, around 320 kilometers from the Dneprovsky labor camp ²³, the best-preserved site in the Kolyma Gulag network where prisoners were processed and sent to forced labor camps.

The massive monument was constructed on the slopes of Krutaya Hill, where Magadan’s infamous transit prisoner processing compound once stood. Unveiled on June 12, 1996 after over five years in the making, it commemorates the thousands who suffered and died in the brutal labor camps of the Kolyma region.

A quick background

Conceived as the first installment in sculptor Ernst Neizvestny’s ⁴ envisioned Russian Triangle of Suffering and Redemption trilogy, the Mask of Sorrow was a deeply personal undertaking. Neizvestny’s parents had fallen victim to Stalin’s purges in the 1930s, so creating this memorial allowed him to channel anguish into profound artistic expression.

Design, style & materials

At 15 meters (50 feet) tall and occupying 56 cubic meters of space, the monument dominates the landscape. The sculpture’s ⁵ forehead, eyebrows, and nose form a cross, enhancing its imposing, almost human-like appearance.

The left side of the face features a solitary tear composed of hundreds of smaller masks melting into each other, symbolizing the endless suffering of those who perished. Instead of a right eye socket, a barred prison window displaying the chilling inmate number ‘0937’ pierces through the structure.

The Mask of Grief turned out as Ernst Neizvestny and I envisioned it. A narrow, mausoleum-like staircase, drills inside the mask, a memory block in the left hemisphere, tears of the mask reflecting endless sorrow.— Kamil Kozaev (2017, MagadanMedia ⁶⁷)

Inside the hollow face, a grim recreation of a Soviet prison cell and mass graveyard awaits those willing to face the stark reality represented. On the back of the monument, a bronze sculpture of a crying woman and a prisoner crucified on a cross is positioned under a yellow light bulb meant to imitate sunlight. This symbolic portrayal vividly captures the suffering experienced by countless victims.

The powerful reverse side of the monument resembles a ruined temple of the soul.— Kamil Kozaev (2021, MagadanMedia ⁸⁹)

Surrounding the site, boulders are carved with symbols representing all major religions in Russia: Orthodox and Catholic crosses, the Star of David, a crescent moon, symbols of Taoism, and the Soviet hammer and sickle.

The monument is positioned so its face is turned toward Nagaev Bay, where prisoners would arrive by ship. Above the sculpture, an upper observation deck offers a panoramic view of Magadan and Nagaev Bay, providing visitors with a place for reflection and contemplation.

Reception & controversy

The reception of the Mask of Sorrow has been mixed over the years. Some hail it as a masterpiece of commemorative art, acknowledging its emotional power and the courage it took to erect such a bold statement in post-Soviet Russia. Others have criticized its imposing, almost brutalist design, finding it too harsh or out of place in the remote landscape of Magadan.

Additionally, some pro-Soviet groups have expressed discomfort with the monument’s direct confrontation of Soviet atrocities. To them, the artwork feels like a condemnation of the past rather than a balanced historical reflection. Despite such criticism, Neizvestny remained firm in his vision, stating:

I fully understand that my work may not appeal to everyone. If you accept it, then this is how it is. I won’t make any changes.— Ernst Neizvestny (Ernst Neizvestny Archive ¹⁰¹¹)

Despite the controversy, the Mask of Sorrow remains a powerful piece of public art that continues to provoke dialogue about how societies remember and process historical trauma. Its endurance as both a physical structure and a cultural statement attests to Neizvestny’s artistic vision and the ongoing relevance of his message.

Some critics argue that the remote location of the monument in Magadan limits its accessibility to a broader audience. While its presence in such a historically significant area is powerful, its isolated setting may hinder its potential to educate and inform people worldwide about the atrocities committed under the Soviet regime.

Breaking Soviet traditions

While paying homage to classical Greek and Roman sculpture traditions, Neizvestny’s Mask of Sorrow also exhibits the abstract modernist stylings that defined his work. The piece, as a whole, marries classicism and abstractionism.

Neizvestny’s approach marked a significant break from traditional Soviet monumental art, which often emphasized ideological triumph and heroism. Instead, his raw, expressive style focused on personal and communal suffering, giving voice to countless victims whose experiences had been suppressed for decades. By prioritizing emotional resonance over state-approved narratives, Neizvestny created a culturally significant piece that challenges conventional notions of memorial art.

I aimed to create works that would resonate with people, regardless of their time and place.— Ernst Neizvestny (1976, интервью в аэропорту Вены ¹²¹³)

Along with sculptor Ernst Neizvestny’s grand creative vision, the Mask of Sorrow monument was co-designed by Magadan-based architect Kamil Kazaev. Kazaev’s background is little known, but his collaboration helped bring the massive structure to physical reality. Neizvestny is undoubtedly the more renowned name, with an illustrious career that included being named one of the greatest living sculptors ¹⁴¹⁵ by BBC Radio.

Perhaps some inspiration was drawn from the brutalist architectural ¹⁶ trends popular during the Soviet-era ¹⁷ as well. The raw, unadorned concrete and anguished expressionism make for a jarring, unforgettable statement. Through this avant-garde yet archetypal lens, Neizvestny’s immense creativity transforms indelible pain into poignant public art ¹⁸.

Final words

Encountering the Mask of Sorrow is a deeply unsettling experience, and that’s precisely the point. Its imposing scale and distorted features are designed to unsettle, forcing us to confront the pain etched into its concrete form. This is not art meant to soothe or delight; it’s art that demands confrontation and contemplation.

What makes this monument particularly powerful is its ability to transcend its immediate context. While it speaks directly to the horrors of the Soviet Gulag system, it also invites broader reflections on how societies remember and process trauma. Art like this remains relevant because it refuses to let us look away. It insists that we grapple with the darkness of history, even when it feels uncomfortable.

In the lively city of San Francisco, along the beautiful waterfront, stands a unique installation that blends science and art like nothing else seen before. This artwork is called the Fog Bridge, a creation by artist Fujiko Nakaya ¹, permanently installed at the Exploratorium’s waterfront location.

Picture stepping onto a bridge ² covered in mist, where it feels like reality and illusion are mixing. That’s what the Fog Bridge is all about. Nakaya created it in 2013 for the Exploratorium Museum’s new waterfront spot.

For over 40 years, artist Fujiko Nakaya has been using fog as a medium ³ for her installations ⁴. She believes in the power of fog to transform our experiences. One memorable moment for Nakaya was in 1976 during the Biennale of Sydney ⁵, Australia, where she created a fog artwork called Earth Talk. After experiencing her installation, an electrician shared a touching story with her. 

He had taken his family to see the Blue Mountains, but the mist initially blocked their view. When the fog cleared, the sight of the mountain was breathtaking. This encounter made Nakaya realize that her artworks could deeply impact people’s memories and emotions.

Nakaya was inspired by this experience to reach a wider audience beyond just the art world. She wanted to enhance people’s appreciation of fog and its beauty, making it a personal and meaningful experience for everyone.

Seen from my side, it is artificial fog by evidence, but seen from nature’s side, it is completely natural. This is the way I like to work.— Fujiko Nakaya on Fog Bridge installation (2013, PNAS ⁶⁷)

A fascination with water ⁸ in its various forms—solid, liquid, or gas—runs deep in Nakaya’s family. Her father, Ukichiro Nakaya, was a prominent figure in the field of glaciology, known as a snow physicist and science essayist. He made significant contributions to the study of snow and ice, including growing the first artificial snow crystal in 1936. 

His work also led to the development of the Nakaya Diagram, a classification system for snow crystals based on the observation and micro-photography of over 3,000 specimens collected over three winters. The Nakaya Ukichiro Museum of Snow and Ice in Kaga City, Japan, commemorates his groundbreaking achievements in this field.

The making of the Fog Bridge

The 150-foot-long Fog Bridge in San Francisco envelops pedestrians with fog for ten minutes every half hour; it is illuminated at night, which makes it an even more spectacular sight. The bridge is located within the free, 1.5-acre outdoor area encircling the Exploratorium, featuring artwork that honors the bay’s environment.

The bridge is lined with over 800 nozzles that spray clouds of water vapor into the air, creating temporary fog banks so thick that one could easily become disoriented within them. These nozzles spray for about 6 minutes, covering the whole bridge and everyone on it in the captivating fog.

I like the fog to pool up, thick, so it obliterates your senses.— Fujiko Nakaya on Fogbridge installation (2013, SFGate ⁹¹⁰)

Nakaya’s fog installations are delicately designed to interact ¹¹ with the specific weather conditions of each location. By using data from an anemometer, a device that measures wind speed, located on the roof of the pier, Nakaya tailored the installation at the Exploratorium to respond to real-time weather updates every ten minutes. 

A computer program adjusts the release of high-pressure water through the hundreds of small nozzles along the footbridge connecting Piers 15 and 17, working in harmony with changing wind speeds. Each nozzle contains a tiny pin that transforms the water into microscopic droplets, creating a fine mist or fog.

Fog makes things invisible, and visible – like wind – at the same time. And because it’s nature that is performing, I don’t always know what it’s going to do. And then it’s gone. It’s in a state of being alive and dying at the same time.— Fujiko Nakaya on Fogbridge installation (2013, SFGate ¹²¹³)

Because San Francisco’s weather changes frequently, the experience of the Fog Bridge can vary a lot. On warm, calm days, the fog gently surrounds the bridge and then disappears over the water. But on damp, cloudy days, the fog stays thicker and hangs around longer. When it’s very windy, the vapor rushes through the canyon between Piers 15 and 17, creating long streams of mist that flow east toward the Exploratorium’s Observatory or west toward the Embarcadero.

Karl the Fog & its artistic counterpart

The Fog Bridge creates a fascinating dialogue with San Francisco’s famous natural fog – affectionately nicknamed Karl by locals. While the city’s iconic fog rolls in from the Pacific Ocean through the Golden Gate, blanketing neighborhoods in a cool mist, Nakaya’s installation offers a controlled, artistic interpretation of this natural phenomenon.

This relationship between natural and artificial fog creates a uniquely San Franciscan experience, celebrating the city’s most distinctive meteorological feature through the lens of art. Visitors can experience both the unpredictable natural fog and its artistic counterpart, deepening their appreciation for this essential element of San Francisco’s identity.

Environmental consciousness

Environmental consciousness is central to the Fog Bridge’s operation. The installation ingeniously uses desalinated water from the San Francisco Bay rather than drawing on potable water resources. This sustainable approach faced a test during California’s severe drought in 2014, when the Fog Bridge was temporarily deactivated as part of water conservation efforts ¹⁴¹⁵.

Rather than abandoning the project, engineers reconfigured the system to ensure it could operate responsibly even during water-scarce periods. This adaptation demonstrates how public art can respond to environmental challenges while continuing to engage and inspire visitors, serving as both an artistic and ecological statement.

Final thoughts

The Fog Bridge isn’t just a piece of art; it is a living connection between nature, science, and human experiences. Nakaya uses fog to make people think about their relationship with the environment, turning an everyday walk into a moment of wonder. As visitors move through the mist, they don’t just observe the art, they become part of it.

Even though the Fog Bridge looks like a bridge, it is so much more. It is a symbol of curiosity and exploration. It invites us to rethink our connection to the natural world.

In San Francisco, a city celebrated for innovation and creative thinking, the Fog Bridge is something special. It shows that art, science and public space ¹⁶ can come together to create something truly remarkable. It sparks conversations about sustainability, creativity, fact versus fiction, and the evolving role of art in our cities, challenging us to imagine what might come next.

Nature is so complex. We can’t understand its complexity. If you just tap one spot it will open up so many things and enlarge imaginations.— Fujiko Nakaya on on the complexity of nature (2013, Smithsonian Magazine ¹⁷¹⁸)

Resembling a UFO ¹ for many who see it for the first time, the Kihoku Astronomical Museum is one of Japan’s most peculiar and eccentric buildings.

Conceptualized by Takasaki Masaharu ², the museum was constructed in a remote location to cut the observatory off from the urban chaos and better root it in the earth. The isolation also helps to better observe the stars, which allowed Takasaki Masaharu to live up to his nickname: the architect of the cosmos.

Takasaki’s architectural vision

Since the architect’s career took off in the early 1980s, Takasaki has continued to push boundaries, challenging commonly accepted structural logic and standards by introducing a more imaginative architectural style that expresses the architect’s knowledge of religion, mythology, and anthropology. Takasaki said ³⁴:

Architecture ⁵ should express the magnetic field of the land and environment, creating a human-centered space that resonates with the earth itself.

His “zero form” philosophy represents the origin of the universe and nothingness, integrating spiritual elements that resonate with sacred sites in the area. This approach is particularly evident in the Kihoku Astronomical Museum, which was designed to facilitate a connection to the cosmos through architectural energy flow.

Challenges & revitalization

During the design process, Takasaki envisioned the Kihoku astronomical museum as an isolated center that would be occupied by researchers and intellectuals. But his dream did not come true right away. For years, the observatory sat unused, slowly deteriorating in the volcanic landscape that is characteristic of the Kagoshima region.

Designed as a community revitalization project in a rural area suffering from population decline, the observatory initially faced challenges. As Takasaki himself noted^{6 7}:

Facing the realities of depopulation and an aging society, I have worked on sustainable architecture that brings dignity and purpose to local communities.

Fortunately, in 2010, the astronomical museum got some much-needed attention from social media. Having been renovated and turned into an astronomy museum, Kihoku is now one of the most popular attractions in Kagoshima. The surrounding hot springs and the Sakurajima volcano make this site even more attractive.

The perfect location

It is this volcanic environment that makes the region the perfect location to host the astronomical museum. The museum houses Kagoshima Prefecture’s largest telescope, a 65cm Cassegrain reflector. The four-story reinforced concrete structure covers 430 square meters and is situated at an altitude of 550 meters above sea level, providing optimal conditions for astronomical observations.

The natural setting makes it extremely easy to observe the night sky, which explains why this region of Japan was awarded by the Japan Environmental Agency for the most beautiful night sky in the summer and winter.

Located about 50-minute drive from Kanoya City, the museum offers surrounding views of Sakurajima Island, a live volcano, Kinko Bay towards the west, the Miyakonojo Basin situated towards the east, the Kirishima Mountains located on the north, as well as the Shibushi Bay facing the south.

Cosmic design & philosophy

Takasaki Masaharu’s architecture combines organic and mystical designs to connect human beings to the cosmos. His architectural philosophies manifest themselves in the utilization of strange shapes and forms, as well as diffused light that helps to highlight his skewed interiors, columns, and planes. With minimally visible support, the astronomical museum appears to be supported by a few columns, which gives the illusion of weightlessness and anti-gravity: almost like a UFO.

Takasaki’s architecture doesn’t just stand in a place; it transforms it. His designs feel like they belong to another dimension, yet they are deeply rooted in the land.

The spherical form of the building references the primordial shapes that we interact with regularly in our universe and the orientation humans yield from our position relative to the cosmos. When at the museum site, one cannot help but feel connected to the celestial ⁹, which is exactly what Takasaki Masaharu aimed for in his overall design.

Similar work: Tamana City Observatory Museum

In addition to the Kihoku Astronomical Museum, Takasaki Masaharu also designed the Tamana City Observatory Museum in Kumamoto Prefecture, about a 3-hours drive to the north. Built in 1992 as part of the Kumamoto Art Polis (くまもとアートポリス) initiative, this observatory features his signature organic forms and a structure that appears to merge with the landscape.

Like Kihoku, the Tamana City Observatory Museum brings Takasaki’s cosmic and spiritual themes to life, further cementing his reputation as the architect of the cosmos.

Final words

Takasaki Masaharu is one of the most well-known architects in Tokyo. He has built a reputation for himself for creating exciting and original works that have captivated the masses owing to their animated style.

Even though Takasaki Masaharu’s style is distinct, his work remains less known outside Japan. Takasaki has received several prestigious awards, including recognition from the Japan Institute of Architects. Yet, his influence continues to shape the future of architectural design.

Can basketball ¹ be more than a game? On the small island of Teshima ² in Japan’s ³ Seto Inland Sea, Multibasket – No One Wins invites visitors to reconsider competition, collaboration ⁴, and the intersection of art and play.

Created by conceptual artists Jasmina Llobet & Luis Pons for the Setouchi Triennale art festival, this playful installation experiments with sculptural form while encouraging human interaction ⁵ and creates a personal and memorable experience akin to an art playground ⁶.

The lines blur between play and performance, competition and connection, making every visitor both participant and spectator.

This article is informed by our conversation with Jasmina Llobet & Luis Pons.

What it is

Approaching along a path leading from the rice fields, visitors encounter a full-sized basketball court sunk into the hillside, with vivid orange backboards and hoops at either end. The backboard, cut in the shape of Teshima, features six hoops that represent the island’s towns, and is therefore designed for simultaneous play by six people.

The court has no dividing lines, with both baskets intertwined at the center in a spiraling form reminiscent of a DNA double helix. The integrated steel sculpture, an artistic intervention in the landscape ⁷, seems to emerge directly from the land, drawing attention to the relationship between art and nature.

While the intertwined baskets prevent the space from being used for normal basketball games, people are encouraged to pick up one of the available balls from the dusty area and take shots together from either side. The setup invites collective play, with the focus shifted from competitive scoring towards a shared experience between players.

The work highlights ideas of communication and collaboration, as players must coordinate their actions so as not to interfere with shots being taken concurrently from the opposite end of the court. This design not only challenges the conventional structure of a basketball court but also symbolizes the interconnectedness of players and viewers.

The artists commented:

We wanted the sculpture to be functional, playful, and deeply connected to its context.

Cultural & social context

Multibasket is a reflection of contemporary art’s shift towards interactive and public engagement. Set in Teshima, it resonates with the cultural ethos of community and collective experiences prevalent in Japanese society. This artwork, by inviting playful interaction in a non-competitive manner, aligns with the communal values and challenges the typically competitive nature of sports.

While deeply rooted in its local context, the artwork also holds global appeal through its universal themes of play, collaboration, and the merging of different artistic disciplines.

It symbolizes a broader movement in the art world that values accessibility, community involvement, and the breaking down of traditional art boundaries, resonating with audiences beyond its immediate cultural setting.

Reflecting on cultural influences, Llobet shared:

The idea of creating an artwork that people could use, without needing to ‘understand’ it, felt very connected to the Japanese appreciation for experience and play.

Llobet and Pons emphasized the importance of context in public art:

We don’t like to create sculptures that become invisible. Public sculptures must mean something to the people who see them every day.

In a world reeling from the effects of the pandemic, interactive public spaces have gained new significance.

Llobet reflected: After the pandemic, people need art more than ever. They need artworks that brings them together in new ways. Interactive public spaces have taken on new meaning. They’re vital for fostering connection.

Art meets sport

In combining elements of land art ⁸, architecture ⁹, landscape design, and sporting facilities within one integrated structure, Llobet and Pons question traditional boundaries between artistic disciplines.

The sculpture adapts features of a familiar sports arena to a new conceptual purpose, seamlessly blending into the existing coastal environment.

This creative reinterpretation of basketball disrupts traditional team dynamics, fostering an environment where the usual competitive edge gives way to creativity and collaboration, where no one wins.

Like much of the artwork showcased at Setouchi Triennale, this permanent fixture encourages us to view public spaces and structures as fluid intersections of different fields that shape collective life.

Llobet shared:

What I like about this artwork, is that it’s about playing more than seeing art. Of course, it’s an artwork, but the interesting part is that it can be just played without needing to understand it. It’s about creating an experience visitors will remember—maybe even for their whole lives.

The interactive nature of Multibasket aligns with public sculptures like Alamo ¹⁰¹¹ by Tony Rosenthal ¹², a rotating cube in New York City that invites physical engagement. The artists emphasized their admiration for Alamo, noting how it demonstrates the power of interactivity in public spaces.

Creating the sculpture wasn’t without its challenges. The artists faced both cultural and practical obstacles. When you put an object in a public space, it’s very fragile, they noted. There are storms, and people are playing very rough with the installation and hanging themselves from the hoops. And, of course, this gets very easily broken and deteriorated.

While the artwork’s conceptual and artistic dimensions are compelling, its practical accessibility and inclusivity add another layer of significance.

Accessibility & inclusivity

This site-specific ¹³ installation exemplifies accessibility in art through its public, open-air location and interactive design. It invites participation from a broad audience, regardless of their art expertise or basketball skills, fostering an inclusive environment.

Another visitor was intrigued by the six goals and pondered the ‘right’ way to engage with the installation. They mentioned the condition of the available basketballs, which were old and deflated, raising the question of whether visitors should bring their own.

The lack of competitive structure in the game played here subtly addresses inclusivity, as it reduces barriers created by skill level or physical ability, promoting a more inclusive form of engagement.

This artwork challenges the hierarchies of sport—the taller or fitter doesn’t always win. Instead, we wanted something that levels the playing field and allows anyone to succeed.

Multibasket & Setouchi’s revival

The economic foundation of Teshima primarily revolves around agriculture. The island is facing a demographic challenge, with a declining and aging population due to the movement of residents to larger urban areas. This migration trend is leading to a gradual depopulation of the island, and as a result, its infrastructure is aging and becoming less utilized. There is a noticeable absence of facilities for recreation and sports on the island.

Llobet and Pons commented:

Our motivation was to do something for this community, which is in a very strong process of depopulation. People are fleeing, and our goal was to create a symbol that the community could accept as their own object—a shared experience that encourages identification.

Multibasket reflects the Setouchi Triennale’s vision of revitalizing forgotten rural areas in the Seto Inland Sea through ambitious, site-specific artwork since 2010. The isolated yet peaceful spot selected for this installation allows visitors to contemplate how public artworks can enhance their appreciation of a particular place.

With its exterior basketball court doubling as an informal viewing platform to take in the panoramic views, Multibasket seems to celebrate the rich cultural landscape it has emerged and reconnects people with regional cultures, highlighting a blend of contemporary art with traditional community values.

This approach underscores the power of art in transforming not just physical spaces but also the socio-cultural dynamics of a region, making Teshima a model for rural rejuvenation through artistic innovation.

Art on Teshima Island

Teshima is emerging as a pivotal site for integrating art with nature. Multibasket, situated a short 16-minute walk from the Teshima Art Museum ¹⁴¹⁵, exemplifies this commitment by harmoniously fusing art into the natural landscape. The Teshima Art Museum offers a unique environment where art transcends traditional boundaries, merging seamlessly with its surroundings.

While the museum uses architectural ingenuity to create a space where nature becomes integral to the art experience, Multibasket invites direct physical engagement from visitors, turning them into active participants rather than passive viewers. Visitors are not just observers but participants, engaging in a game that emphasizes collaboration over competition.

About the artists: Llobet & Pons

Jasmina Llobet and Luis Pons, a Barcelona-based conceptual art ¹⁶ duo, are known for their site-specific sculptures and urban interventions. Their collaborative practice combines architecture, design, and visual arts in experimental ways, often incorporating everyday structural elements like basketball hoops or benches.

Works such as Multibasket emerge from a creative vision to transform public spaces ¹⁷ into places for alternative kinds of social interaction and artistic experience.

Llobet & Pons draw inspiration from the works of Allora & Calzadilla ¹⁸ and Francis Alÿs ¹⁹, artists known for their ability to blend art with performance and public interaction.

Final words

Llobet and Pons invite us to rethink traditional notions of art and interaction, placing collaboration at the heart of their work. Multibasket isn’t just a modified version of basketball. It’s an invitation to engage with art in a way that redefines boundaries.

At its core, Multibasket invites us to reimagine not just basketball but the very rules we live by. As the artists put it:

You can always change the rules. There are countless possibilities.

As visitors shoot hoops under the sun and invent new rules on Teshima’s Multibasket, the artwork quietly reshapes their understanding of sport, play, and community. Llobet & Pons remind us that art doesn’t need walls or pedestals. It can thrive wherever people gather and connect.

In a world increasingly divided, could more playful interventions like this help us rediscover the simple joy of collaboration? Multibasket suggests the answer isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about the experience shared along the way.

What is it about a simple geometric shape that can evoke strong emotions and ideas? In the heart of New York City’s ¹ East Village, one such structure commands attention: The Alamo.

Crafted by renowned artist Tony Rosenthal ² in 1967, this towering monument was designed from Cor-Ten steel ³, measuring 15 feet in height.

Originally created for a temporary public display in 1967, a petition by residents secured The Alamo’s permanent place at Astor Place. Often referred to as the Astor Place Cube, this masterpiece has solidified its place as one of Rosenthal’s most celebrated and cherished public artworks. Recognized as a symbol of both New York City and the broader world of public art, the sculpture holds a revered status as a landmark.

Rosenthal’s Alamo holds the distinction of being the first contemporary sculpture ever bought by New York City and the first permanent contemporary outdoor sculpture installed in the city ⁴⁵. It was also the first time Rosenthal made a public art sculpture without being asked by an architect. The decision to purchase The Alamo was a landmark moment, showing how important the city thought contemporary art in public spaces was.

Creating the Alamo

The idea for Alamo came about when Donald Lippincott, who owned Lippincott Foundry, saw Rosenthal’s earlier work, especially Ahab, a 10-foot brass sculpture Rosenthal made by hand for the Whitney Museum’s Annual Exhibition in 1966. Lippincott liked what he saw and got in touch with Rosenthal. This connection led to the creation of Alamo and marked a significant moment in Rosenthal’s career as a sculptor.

Unlike many other metal sculptors who relied on fabricators for larger pieces, Rosenthal had always personally crafted all of his metal sculptures, even those as large as 20 or 30 feet. So, when Lippincott suggested the possibility of scaling up his sculptures beyond what he could manage in his studio, it was the perfect opportunity for Rosenthal to start incorporating fabricators in the process.

The Alamo marked a departure from Rosenthal’s earlier works, blending geometric abstraction with public interactivity to create a uniquely participatory experience.

In 1965, Rosenthal began making small five-inch cubes from balsa wood. He then transitioned to crafting larger cubes out of bronze, eventually reaching five-foot cubes. Though Rosenthal was skilled at hand-cutting and welding brass, it still took him four months to get the solid appearance he wanted. Fabrication, while giving up some control, proved faster. A 15-foot cube was made at Lippincott in just three months.

Ahead of its time

Created during a period of cultural transformation in the late 1960s, The Alamo redefined the possibilities of public art. Moving beyond static, commemorative sculptures, its participatory design broke barriers, reflecting societal calls for greater accessibility and interaction.

This pivotal shift served as a precursor to the growing trend of experiential art and positioned The Alamo as a work ahead of its time for several reasons:

Geometric abstraction

The sculpture’s design, composed of interlocking geometric shapes, was innovative and ahead of the dominant artistic trends of its time. In the 1960s, geometric abstraction was gaining popularity in the art world, but The Alamo stood out for its boldness and simplicity in form.

Interactive public art

Unlike traditional static monuments, The Alamo invited interaction ⁶. Its rotating segments let viewers physically engage with the sculpture, making it an ever-changing artistic experience. Its smooth, cold steel invites touch, while the sound of grinding metal when pushed adds a visceral sensory dimension, further deepening its connection with audiences.

Rosenthal transformed a minimalist cube into an interactive public monument, making abstract art accessible while maintaining its aesthetic sophistication. This interactive aspect helped to build the growing interest in participatory art while also blurring the boundaries between the artist and the audience.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOE7U2wrgcI

This was quite unusual for the 1960s. During that era, most public sculptures were static monuments or statues meant to be admired from a distance.

Rosenthal did not originally design it to be interactive ⁷⁸:

I actually thought we would put it on this post and we’d turn it to the position we wanted it and then stick it like that. I did not realize that the turning was such a factor in people’s enjoyment of it.

In a 1968 interview ⁹¹⁰, Rosenthal reflected on the installation of The Alamo:

The fact that it moves allows people to participate. Even climbing on it shows engagement, whether they realize it or not. If it had been monumental in scale, it would have lost its human scale, which is important. I’m delighted—it’s a friendly object.

Urban integration

The Alamo was placed in a busy city area and designed to fit in with its surroundings. Its modern style matched well with the buildings around it, showing the city’s energy and embracing the idea of making urban spaces better.

In winter, snow contrasts sharply against the dark Cor-Ten steel, emphasizing its geometric form, while in summer, sunlight highlights its patina, creating a dynamic interaction with its surroundings.

Sculptures were commonly seen as standalone artworks rather than as integral elements of the cityscape. As such, in the 1960s, most sculptures were typically placed in parks, plazas, or other public spaces where they could be admired from a distance. These locations were often chosen for their aesthetic appeal and visibility rather than for their integration with the surrounding urban environment.

Symbolism & ambiguity

The title, The Alamo, references the site of the 1836 battle in San Antonio, Texas. Despite this historical nod, the sculpture’s abstract form invites diverse interpretations, deliberately avoiding any representational connection.

It’s abstract, which means people can see different things in it. This openness lets each person give their own meaning to the sculpture, unlike older art that usually showed things or people clearly.

Public reception & controversies

Public reception of The Alamo has been overwhelmingly positive, with the sculpture becoming a beloved New York City landmark. However, some controversies have arisen over the years, particularly regarding its maintenance.

Periods when the cube could no longer spin sparked criticism of the city’s handling of its upkeep. Additionally, debates arose about whether such artworks should remain in public spaces, with some arguing they lacked cultural relevance. Graffiti ¹¹ and occasional vandalism ¹² have also posed challenges to maintaining its iconic status.

Maintenance of The Alamo involves periodic restoration, addressing wear from public interaction, and ensuring the mechanism for its rotation functions smoothly. In 2023, restoration costs were covered by the Rosenthal estate, demonstrating the ongoing investment required to preserve such public art landmarks.

While its cultural significance outweighs its economic value, The Alamo represents a significant investment in public art, reflecting New York City’s bold commitment to contemporary art during the 1960s.

2023 restoration

Apart from brief periods of absence for conservation and the addition of space for a pedestrian plaza in 2005, 2014-2016, Tony Rosenthal’s The Alamo has been a beloved spinning attraction for over five decades.

For at least a year, the mechanism that allowed the Cube to spin had not been functioning properly. In 2023, however, New York City Transportation Commissioner Ydanis Rodriguez and the Tony Rosenthal Art Estate announced an agreement to refurbish the Alamo sculpture. Versteeg Art Fabricators completed a full restoration of the sculpture, with the costs covered by the Rosenthal estate.

Versteeg Art Fabricators had previously restored the Cube in 2005. The last time the Cube was removed was in 2014 by DOT and DDC during the capital reconstruction of Astor Place. This reconstruction included the creation of a permanent car-free plaza space by DOT.

The sculpture was reinstalled in the plaza in 2016, at which point DOT formally took on maintenance responsibilities as part of the agency’s Permanent Art portfolio, which consists of 23 works in total. Following its recent restoration, The Alamo is once again open to the public, with an upgraded spinning mechanism expected to function for the next 20 years ¹³¹⁴.

Conclusion

Over its five decades of existence, The Alamo has witnessed significant changes in its surroundings. Originally placed in a small traffic island, it now occupies a car-free pedestrian plaza, reflecting broader urban trends toward walkable and community-oriented spaces. Its ability to adapt to these changes while maintaining its iconic status highlights its lasting relevance.

The Alamo remains a cherished part of the city’s artistic landscape. What sets it apart is its ability to be both monumental and playful: A serious minimalist sculpture that invites joy and interaction without taking itself too seriously.

As Kendal Henry, assistant commissioner of public art at the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, noted ¹⁵¹⁶:

This … is one of the most successful works of art in New York City.

As it continues to spin, The Alamo reminds us of art’s power to reshape our interactions with the urban landscape. How many public spaces today could benefit from such dynamic creativity?

A vibrant red mural in the heart of Barcelona ¹ serves as both an artistic expression and social activism ². Officially known as the Todos Juntos Podemos Parar el SIDA (Together We Can Stop AIDS), the public art was created by the renowned American artist and AIDS activist Keith Haring ³ in 1989.

More than just a work of art, this mural represents a powerful call to action against the AIDS epidemic that was ravaging communities worldwide at the time. 

History

The story of Haring’s Barcelona mural begins with a chance encounter. In February 1989, Haring was in Spain ⁴ for the ARCO art fair in Madrid ⁵. On his way back to New York ⁶, he made a brief stop in Barcelona, where he attended an art reception at the Joan Prats Gallery. It was here that he met an old friend from New York, Montse Guillén, the owner of the famous El Internacional Restaurant in TriBeCa.

Guillen, recognizing the unique opportunity presented by Haring’s presence, asked if he would consider creating something in Barcelona. Haring agreed, but with one condition: he wanted to choose the location himself. Local authorities, including influential politician Ferran Mascarell, helped secure the necessary permissions.

Haring selected a wall in Plaça de Salvador Seguí, in the heart of El Raval – then known as Barrio Chino, a neighborhood notorious for its high crime rate and drug problems. The choice was deliberate; Haring was drawn to the area’s gritty authenticity, reminiscent of the marginal neighborhoods in New York where he first began painting.

On February 27, 1989, Haring arrived at the site with his boombox blaring acid house music. Without any preliminary sketches, he began painting directly on the slanted, dirty wall. Over the course of five hours, as curious onlookers gathered, he transformed the blank space into a powerful visual message against AIDS. It was later revealed in an event attended by local leaders.

However, the wall suffered from the elements and was defaced with graffiti. Since 1996, the Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona (MACBA) has reproduced the mural several times on a concrete wall near its entrance, between Carrer de Ferlandina and Plaça Joan Coromines.

In February 2014, marking the 25th anniversary of the mural’s creation, MACBA, in agreement with the Keith Haring Foundation and the Barcelona City Council, recreated the mural once again. 

Composition

Todos Juntos Podemos Parar el SIDA speaks to Haring’s signature style, characterized by bold lines, vibrant colors, and symbolic figures. The mural spans 34 meters (approximately 111 feet) across a concrete buttress.

Haring chose to paint the entire mural in a striking blood-red color, a choice packed with symbolism. The color not only grabs attention but also alludes to the blood-borne nature of HIV, the virus that causes AIDS.

The mural’s central image is a giant snake, symbolizing AIDS, which dominates the composition. To the left, four figures flee in terror with their hands raised, while on the right, two figures shaped like scissors attempt to cut the snake.

Another figure places a condom on the snake’s tail, a clear nod to safe sex practices. The snake clutches a giant hypodermic syringe, and nearby lies a prone figure, possibly representing a victim of the disease.

In the center, three larger figures adopt poses reminiscent of the “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” monkeys, symbolizing the willful ignorance and stigma that often surrounded the AIDS crisis.

Nearby, a couple embraces, seemingly oblivious to the danger around them, caught in the snake’s coils. Another scene shows a figure wielding a stake against a second, smaller snake.

Haring’s characteristic energy lines radiate from the figures, adding a sense of urgency and movement to the composition. The mural is topped with the phrase Todos Juntos Podemos Parar el SIDA (Together We Can Stop AIDS) in bold lettering, along with Haring’s signature.

Haring’s technique was as impressive as the finished product. He worked freehand without scaffolding or preparatory drawings. Still, he adapted his body to the wall’s awkward angle, creating what he later described in his journal ⁷⁸ as “new positions to balance and keep the consistency required.”

Inspiration & symbolism

To Haring, the mural served as a personal fight against AIDS. Diagnosed with AIDS in 1988, just a year before painting this mural, Haring had become a vocal advocate for AIDS awareness and safe sex practices. He stated ⁹¹⁰, “the disease that has taken the lives of some of my close friends has been an inspiration in my work.”

The mural’s imagery draws on Haring’s established lexicon of symbols, which he had been developing since his early days of drawing in New York City subway stations ¹¹¹². However, in this context, these familiar forms take on a new, urgent meaning. The fleeing figures represent the fear and stigma surrounding AIDS, while the scissors cutting the snake symbolize the hope for a cure or effective treatment.

The condom imagery was particularly bold for its time. In 1989, open talk about safe sex was still taboo in many circles, and Haring’s mural brought this message into the public space in a way that was impossible to ignore.

Context

In the late 1980s, Barcelona, like many cities around the world, was grappling with the devastating impact of the AIDS epidemic. Spain had one of the highest rates of HIV infection in Western Europe, and public awareness campaigns were still in their infancy. The El Raval neighborhood was particularly affected.

Haring, already an established artist and activist, painted his Barcelona mural just a year after his own AIDS diagnosis. It was a direct response to the global crisis, aiming to educate and provoke action in a city that was also battling the epidemic.

Public reception & controversy

When Keith Haring painted Todos Juntos Podemos Parar el SIDA, the mural sparked a mix of reactions from the local community. Some appreciated the boldness of Haring’s message. Others, however, didn’t receive the mural positively.

Some locals and officials were uncomfortable with the directness of the imagery, particularly the depiction of a condom, which was considered provocative in a conservative society. The mural’s stark red color and the confronting nature of its message also led to debates about its appropriateness in a public space.

According to his diary ¹³¹⁴, Haring even argued with a brothel owner in the area who was angry about the theme of the work:

He complained that the mural would only harm the neighborhood because people would think there were many drugs there and the police would close the bars. That’s ridiculous because people already know how bad the situation in the neighborhood is.

Over time, the mural’s status evolved, and it became a symbol of Haring’s legacy and Barcelona’s cultural landscape. The discussions it sparked, both supportive and critical, highlight the mural’s impact on public discourse around AIDS and the role of art in challenging societal norms.

Preservation efforts

The original mural was painted on a concrete buttress of a building slated for demolition in Plaza Salvador Seguí, in what was then known as the Barrio Chino (now part of El Raval). As the original site was demolished, preservation efforts began.

In 1996, the Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona (MACBA) took the initiative to recreate the mural on a concrete wall near its entrance. This relocation not only protected the mural from further damage but also integrated it into a more formal art setting, ensuring its visibility to a wider audience.

In 2014, marking the 25th anniversary of the mural’s creation, MACBA undertook a project to recreate the mural once again. This version, located at the original site, was designed to replicate the vibrancy and impact of Haring’s work, using modern materials that could better withstand environmental conditions.

Crack is Wack

Keith Haring’s mural in Barcelona is one of several public works through which the artist addressed pressing social issues. Another notable example is his Crack is Wack ¹⁵¹⁶ mural in New York City, painted in 1986. While both murals share Haring’s distinctive style—bold lines, vivid colors, and symbolic figures—they differ significantly in their themes and intended messages. Both murals, however, are united by Haring’s commitment to using art as a tool for social change.

Keith Haring’s Legacy

Keith Haring (1958-1990) was one of the most prominent artists to emerge from the 1980s New York City art scene. He began his career drawing graffiti art ¹⁷ with socially conscious themes. Haring’s work often addressed political and social issues, including apartheid, the crack cocaine epidemic, LGBTQ+ rights as well as AIDS.

Final words

Art holds significant power to challenge, educate, and inspire. This mural, born from a chance encounter and fueled by urgent activism, continues to resonate in Barcelona and beyond.

As new generations encounter this vibrant work, one can’t help but wonder: How will future artists carry forward Haring’s mission of using art as a tool for social change? In a world still grappling with numerous crises, perhaps Haring’s bold call to action is more relevant than ever.

More by Keith Haring

When strolling down Churchill Avenue in Addis Ababa ¹, it’s hard to miss the towering Tiglachin Monument. Also known as the Derg Monument or Our Struggle Monument, it was built to pay homage to the Cuban ² and Ethiopian ³ soldiers who died in the 1977-78 Ogaden War. In Amharic, Ethiopia’s official working language, Tiglachin” translates to “Our Victory” or “Our Triumph.”

Before Addis Ababa’s skyline was dominated by modern high-rises, the Tiglachin Monument stood as a prominent landmark, visible from various vantage points across the city center. The memorial still looms over the cityscape, serving as a polarizing reminder of Ethiopia’s communist ⁴ era. It has a story to tell – one of war, ideology, and international alliances that shaped the nation’s history.

A brief history of the monument

The Tiglachin Monument was conceived during a politically turbulent period in Ethiopia’s history and deeply rooted in political ideology. Inaugurated on September 12, 1984, it was constructed to mark the 10th anniversary of Emperor Haile Selassie’s overthrow by the Marxist Derg regime ⁵⁶, which sought to align Ethiopia more closely with Soviet ideology.

Mengistu Haile Mariam, who led the Derg regime, developed a strong interest in North Korea’s political ideology ⁷⁸. Following a visit to North Korea in 1983, where he met with Kim Il-sung, Mengistu became particularly impressed with the Juche ideology and North Korea’s approach to propaganda and personality cults.

This influence manifested in several ways in Ethiopia, including Mengistu’s adoption of similar leadership styles and changes in his public image. Following the North Korean model, he emphasized the construction of monuments, control of media, and organization of mass games ⁹¹⁰.

Mengistu’s photographs were prominently displayed in villages, state-owned cooperatives, government offices, and other public spaces across the country. While many African leaders of the time were drawn to various socialist ideologies, Mengistu’s embrace of North Korean-style propaganda and personality cult was particularly strong and distinctive.

This period saw significant Soviet influence on Ethiopian politics, culture, and military engagements, including the Ogaden War ¹¹¹² (1977-1978), where forces from Ethiopia and Cuba, a fellow Marxist state at the time, fought together against Somalia. The monument reflects these geopolitical dynamics.

Design, materials & structure

Crafted by Mansudae and coordinated by Soviet architect V. Savchenko, the Tiglachin Monument is a masterclass in communist chic. This massive complex, sprawling across 50,000 tiled square meters of prime Addis real estate right in front of the Black Lion Hospital, features a central 50-meter high pylon surrounded by tiled areas, memorial walls, and beautifully landscaped gardens.

At the heart of the complex stands the main pillar, an obelisk-like spiral crowned with a red star symbolizing Marxism-Leninism, the official ideology of the regime at the time. It sports a statue featuring three armed figures (two men and a woman) brandishing the hammer and sickle flag.

The pillar’s back is adorned with an enormous depiction of the Hero’s Medal, the highest award of Ethiopian Communists, weighing 700 kilograms and measuring 2.7 meters in diameter. At the center of this medal is the iconic hammer and sickle symbol, unmistakably representing the communist ideology that the monument embodies.

Fronting this central pillar is a striking statuary group, featuring a large flag accompanied by two armed men and one armed woman, embodying the socialist realist ¹³ style with its depiction of ordinary people taking charge of their destiny.

At the base of the statue, raised lettering in Amharic, Ethiopia’s official language, reads: “The deeds of the heroes who fell in the struggle for the life and honor of our homeland and our revolution are immortal.”

On either side of the main pillar are two significant wall reliefs, each telling a part of Ethiopia’s revolutionary story.

The left wall relief portrays the revolutionary process, incorporating scenes of famine that have plagued Ethiopia’s history. It begins with Emperor Haile Selassie I on horseback, seemingly ignoring the suffering of hungry people – a reference to past famines and food insecurity issues in the country.

While the specific 1984-1985 famine postdates the monument’s September 1984 inauguration, Ethiopia had experienced several severe famines in the 20th century, including in the 1970s, which likely influenced this depiction.

In the relief, there is a depiction of the slogan “Meret Larashu” or “Land for the farmer”. This references a significant policy of the Derg regime, which distributed rural land to farmers and nationalized urban land after 1975. The relief shows none other than Colonel Mengistu Haile Mariam, the Derg leader, addressing a crowd of citizens. He stands at a podium, gesturing towards the assembled people.

The scene then transitions to a protest with the words “Down with imperialism” in English, showing protesters overthrowing the throne, a symbol of the Ethiopian Empire.

The right wall relief depicts liberated Ethiopians ready to support the troops guided by Mengistu Haile Mariam, prominently featured in his snazziest military uniform, with various buildings including the National Bank of Ethiopia visible in the background.

The scenes are rich with symbolism, showing workers and farmers in the foreground, some raising their fists in solidarity. The relief’s style is typical of socialist realism, emphasizing the strength and unity of the working class. The crowded composition and forward-leaning figures create a sense of movement and revolutionary fervor.

This artistic representation encapsulates the Derg’s political narrative, showcasing their land reform policies and anti-imperialist stance as central to their revolutionary ideology.

Further to the left and right of these murals are two small squares displaying photos of Cuban martyrs, a nod to the alliance between the Ethiopian regime and Fidel Castro’s Cuba during the conflict.

Over the years, the Tiglachin Monument has faced periods of neglect and disrepair, reflecting the changing political sentiments in Ethiopia. However, recent efforts have been made to restore and maintain the monument, including the construction of the Adwa Museum around it. Sadly, the once majestic fountain in front of the monument has stopped working and is in terrible condition.

In recent years, following a trend seen across Addis Ababa, the monument complex has been enhanced with colorful nighttime illumination, adding a new dimension to its visual impact.

The monument’s style, reminiscent of Soviet-era memorials, seems almost like a foreign object with little connection to Ethiopian reality. It could easily be mistaken for a monument in Warsaw, Moscow, or any former Soviet-dominated European country, illustrating the widespread influence of this style during the 20th century.

Some of the sculptures and art pieces at the memorial were actually donated by the North Korean government in 1984, courtesy of the Mansudae Art Studio ¹⁴¹⁵. It was one of North Korea’s ¹⁶ first monumental gifts ^{17 18} to Africa ¹⁹.

When comparing the Tiglachin Monument to other Soviet-influenced artworks ²⁰, its scale and intricate design stand out. The monument’s combination of Soviet realism and local Ethiopian elements makes it unique.

Interestingly, this style of monumental art is not confined to Ethiopia. A strikingly similar monument stands in front of the National Heroes Acre in Harare, Zimbabwe. This Zimbabwean monument features a statuary group that is almost identical to the one in Addis Ababa, with its three full-length figures positioned in front of a large flag.

Inspiration & symbolism

The monument’s style is a mishmash of Soviet architecture ²¹, modernism ²², and brutalism ²³ — art with a side of concrete and political messaging. The symbolism here is not so subtle, with plenty of revolutionary imagery, spreading the narrative of class struggle and international comradeship.

This blend of art and ideology provides a unique insight into the Derg regime’s efforts to cement its legacy through public art. Its imposing presence on Churchill Avenue is a testament to the era’s architectural ambitions, combining monumental scale with intricate detailing.

The creative minds behind the monument

The renowned North Korean Mansudae Art Studio played the primary role in its creation. As the main designers and executors of the monument, Mansudae was responsible for the statuary and artistic elements that define the structure. Known for their monumental works across Africa, Mansudae brought their distinctive style to the project, skillfully blending Soviet realism with local Ethiopian elements.

While Mansudae led the artistic vision, Soviet architect V. Savchenko served in an advisory capacity on the project. Savchenko provided valuable expertise in Soviet architectural principles and offered guidance on integrating the monument into Addis Ababa’s urban landscape. His involvement helped bridge the gap between North Korean monumental art and Soviet architectural influences.

Savchenko was known for combining modernist and brutalist styles in his work, an approach evident in the Tiglachin Monument’s design. His architectural portfolio extends beyond this project, with another notable example being the Hotel Mir in Kharkiv, Ukraine ²⁴.

Historical backdrop

The Ogaden War, also known as the Ethio-Somali War, began in July 1969 when Somali forces, led by Siad Barre and initially supported by the Soviet Union, invaded Ethiopia and controlled most of the Ogaden region, including Jijiga. The tide turned on February 26, 1970, when Ethiopian forces launched a decisive counterattack at Mount Karamara.

This battle marked a turning point, with Ethiopian troops reclaiming Jijiga and ultimately forcing the Somali army to retreat. The war saw widespread participation from Ethiopians across the country, who united under the call to defend their nation’s sovereignty. Notably, 16,000 Cuban forces provided crucial support to Ethiopia during this conflict, strengthening an alliance that would later be celebrated in the monument’s design and name.

The Ethiopian Air Force played a pivotal role in the victory, significantly diminishing the Somali military’s capabilities. This hard-won triumph over external aggression became a source of national pride, leading to the erection of the Tiglachin Monument as a symbol to the sacrifices made and the international solidarity experienced during this challenging period.

Korean soldiers in Ethiopia?

While this YouTube video below offers an interesting 7-minute introduction to the monument, it makes an unsubstantiated claim about North Korean military involvement. There is no credible historical evidence of North Korean soldiers directly fighting in the Ogaden War.

While not confirmed, some sources suggest North Korea may have sent military advisors to Ethiopia, but this is significantly different from sending combat troops. It’s important to distinguish between North Korea’s artistic contribution to the monument and any alleged military involvement in the conflict itself.

Public reception & controversies

Following the fall of the Derg regime in 1991, the new government under the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) reassessed the monument’s significance. Its role shifted from a symbol of the communist era to a historical landmark, representing a complex and controversial period in Ethiopia’s past.

The public reception of the Tiglachin Monument has been mixed. While it is recognized as an important historical and cultural landmark, it also serves as a reminder of a controversial and repressive period in Ethiopian history.

Some view it as a symbol of national pride and international solidarity, while others see it as a relic of a brutal regime. The presence of North Korean art, donated by the Mansudae Art Studio, adds another layer of complexity and controversy and raises questions about the cultural and political implications of accepting such contributions.

Critics argue that the monument glorifies a regime marked by repression and conflict. The architectural style, though grand, may not resonate with those who suffered under the Derg’s rule. The artistic and architectural choices reflect a specific ideology that may not align with the current values and historical interpretations of many Ethiopians today.

Final words

Despite its controversial origins, the Tiglachin Monument remains a significant cultural landmark. It serves as a reminder of Ethiopia’s complex history and the international alliances that shaped its modern era. Locally, the Tiglachin Monument is a significant cultural landmark, representing a complex period in Ethiopian history.

Globally, it stands as an example of the spread of Soviet architectural and artistic influence during the Cold War. The monument’s ties to both Ethiopian and international history make it an important subject of study for understanding the cultural exchanges and geopolitical strategies of the time.