Anish Kapoor and Climate Activists Take Over Gas Rig with 'BUTCHERED'
Activists from the climate organizationGreenpeacehave unveiled a new artwork byAnish Kapooron a Shell gas platform in the North Sea. Titled 'BUTCHERED,' the artwork arrives as the UK records its fourth heatwave of the summer, and in thewords of Kapoor, is 'a reference to the destruction – the bleeding – of our globe of our state, of being.'
On the morning of August 13, seven Greenpeace members scaled Shell's Skiff platform, located 45 nautical miles off the coast of Norfolk before mounting a 12-by-8 meter canvas to the side of the rig. The activists then used a high-pressure hose to pump 1,000 liters of 'blood' – a mixture made from seawater, beetroot powder and food-based dye – onto its surface. According toThe Guardian, 'BUTCHERED' is believed to be the first fine artwork displayed on an active gas extraction platform.
In a recent statement, the group wrote that the piece brings light to the 'wound inflicted on both humanity and the Earth by the fossil fuel industry,' evoking the 'collective grief and pain at what has been lost, but also a cry for reparation.'
'I wanted to make something visual, physical, visceral to reflect the butchery they are inflicting on our planet,' Kapoor expressed, 'a visual scream that gives voice to the calamitous cost of the climate crisis, often on the most marginalized communities across the globe.'
'BUTCHERED is an action that happens at the place where this violation starts – a gas platform in the middle of the sea,' he continued. '[It] attempts to bring home the horror, giving voice to the moral and physical destruction caused by ruthless profiteers.'
This isn't the first time the artist stepped up to face Big Gas. In 2019, Kapoor joined a league of 78 British artists – among them Sarah Lucas andAntony Gormley– in calling for London's National Portrait Gallery tosever ties with BPin lieu of their 30-year sponsorship.
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6 hours ago
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Mary McNamara: When I wrote about 'And Just Like That' a month ago, I expressed my hope that Season 3 would be the last, so I feel nothing but relief (though had I known the universe was in listening mode, I would have also mentioned wanting to win the lottery and a few other things). I am not worried, as others appear to be, about the legacy of 'Sex and the City,' which is all around us in series as disparate as 'Broad City,' 'Fleabag' and 'Insecure.' Nor do I think that the failure of 'And Just Like That' has anything to do with the current political climate or the rise of the trad wife or whatever hot takes seem handy. It was simply and consistently a very bad TV show. I tuned in initially because, like many, I was excited to see how these characters were coping with late middle-age life — by apparently not experiencing menopause for one thing (an early indication that female authenticity had fallen by the wayside) or developing any sort of interior life. Real crises — Carrie losing Big and 'dealing' with Aidan's troubled son, Miranda discovering her queerness and alcoholism, Charlotte struggling to cope with her daughter's gender fluidity and her husband's cancer — were treated performatively, as plot twists to underline, apparently, the resilience of each character and the core friendship. Not a bad objective, but the hurdles, which increasing felt like a whiteboard checklist (podcasts! pronouns! prostate cancer!), came and went so fast they quickly became laughable (and not in the comedic sense), culminating with Lisa's father dying twice. I kept watching, as many did, not because I loved hating it, but because there was a good show in there somewhere and I kept waiting for it to emerge. When it didn't — well, the Thanksgiving/pie finale was a bit much — I honestly didn't care how it ended, as long as it did. Maira Garcia: Mary, after you wrote your column, I decided to take a break from the show because it summarized some of my frustrations with the reboot that seemed to come to a head this season — Aidan's unrealistic expectations for his relationship with Carrie, the perfunctory way it addressed ADHD, the lack of rugs on Carrie's floors. Of course my break didn't last long because I caught up and now I'm here wondering what it was all about and what it could have been. While the line from King and Parker is that this season felt like a good place for the show to end, based on the number of developing storylines, like Brady becoming a father, I have a very hard time believing it. But the problem of how to fix this show was too big — it was better that they ended on this chapter (whether or not that decision was made by them). I think like many viewers, I just wanted to enjoy spending some time with these ladies again at a later stage in life after a couple of decades with them through reruns and the films. But this was something else and while the addition of new characters seemed well-intentioned, they either lacked dimension, meaty storylines or were plain annoying (ahem, Che) — except for Seema. I love Seema. Please get Sarita Choudhury a spinoff. Yvonne Villarreal: Uh, is it sad that I'm sad? I know, I know. But, look, I feel like the girl who cried 'Che?!' too many times and now it's real and it's like I've been mentally placed in that insane DIY mini foyer of Carrie's old apartment trying to emotionally find my way out. Like you, Mary, I've been frustrated endlessly by the series and have long felt like it needed to be put out of its misery, but I still dutifully watched every episode with a weird mix of enthusiasm and dread — and the community that grew (in my TikTok algorithm and in my group texts) from that shared experience was oddly one of the bright spots. So for HBO Max to call my bluff by actually ending it still feels like a breakup as flabbergasting — albeit, necessary — as Berger's Post-it note peace-out. I came in ready to approach this stage of my relationship to these characters the same way I approach the friendships I've maintained the longest — excited to catch up once our schedules aligned, trying to fill in the blanks from the long absence caused by life, but still recognizing the foundation of who they are and how they're choosing to navigate life's curveballs. But with each passing episode, it always seemed like I was at the wrong table, perplexed and trying not to be rude with all the 'But why?' questions. Miranda's quote from this week's finale, as she took in the most bizarre Thanksgiving dinner television has ever put onscreen, felt like the epilogue to my experience watching it all: 'I'm not sure exactly what's happening now, but let's all take a breath.' I will mourn the potential of what this series could have been. Like Carrie's playful tiptoe stride through the streets in heels, the show pranced around topics that, had it walked through them with intention, would have given the series traces of its former self. That friend moment between Seema and Carrie outside the hair salon in Season 2 — where the former is reluctantly but bravely expressing that she feels like she's being dropped now that Aidan is back in the picture — was such a genuine peek at the vulnerability between friends that so many of us valued from the original series. And that moment from this week's finale, where the women are gathered at a bridal runway show, sharing their varying feelings on marriage at this stage in their life — I just wanted to shout, 'MICHAEL PATRICK KING, this is what I wanted more of!' Though, I would have preferred if they were around a table, looking at each other as they shared and unpacked. I wanted an extended scene of that, not Carrie ordering pies! I don't like to be teased with goodness. And that's how it often felt. Also, I know it's a comedy, although the decision to lean into the sitcom style of humor remains perplexing (Harry and Charlotte, I'm looking at you), but I felt like there was a way to explore grief — the death of Mr. Big and Stanford, plus the strain on the group's friendship with Samantha — in a way that felt truer to the characters and the style of the show. Heck, even Miranda's drinking problem was squandered. I feel like the loss of a spouse (through death, divorce or emotional distance), the fading out of friendships and reconsideration of lifestyle habits are the most talked-about topics in my friend group at this stage in my life — sometimes the convos happen while we're huddled around a Chili's triple dipper, which is as bleak and real as it gets. And I'm sorry, but if I were to use one of those outings, when I'm in my mid-50s, to tell them an ex wants me to wait five years while he focuses on being a toxic parent before we can really be together, they'd slap me with a fried mozzarella stick — I will never forgive the writers for how lobotomized these characters feel. Mary and Maira, how did you feel about how the show handled its biggest absences? The show began in such a different place than where it ends — did it evolve in the right direction? Where did it go right for you? McNamara: Oh Yvonne, you are so much kinder than I am. I never felt it was going right — the writers seemed so determined to prove that women in their 50s aren't boring that they constantly forced them into all manner of absurd situations without much thought for what kind of actual women these characters might have become. Age was represented mostly by bizarre, grannified reactions to younger folk and their strange ways (up until the finale, which gave us that baby mama and her buddy Epcot), as if the women (and the writers) had been kept in a shoe box for 20 years. Looking back, the lack of Samantha, and Cattrall, feels like a deal-breaker. For all her campy affectations, Samantha was always the most grounded of the characters, able to cut to the heart of things with a witty line, biting comment or just a simple truth. Seema, and Choudhury, did her best to fill that void, but she never got quite enough room to work — her relationship was almost exclusively with Carrie for one thing and Carrie was, even more than in 'Sex and the City,' the driving force of the show. I agree that grief was given very short shrift, and the fact that no one seemed to miss Samantha very much, or be in touch with her at all (beyond the few exchanges with Carrie) was both bizarre and a shame — coping with the loss of a dear friend, through misunderstanding or distance, is a rich topic and one that many people deal with. As for the resurrection of Aidan, well, who thought that was going to work? Especially when it became clear that the writers thought it made perfect sense to keep Carrie and Aidan's children separate — so unbelievable, and demeaning to both characters. Carrie's final 'revelation' that a woman doesn't need a man to be happy would have had a much more meaningful resonance if Carrie had been allowed to explore her grief, fear, frustration and hope beyond a few platitude-laden conversations and that god-awful novel. Which, quite honestly, was the funniest thing about this season. When her agent went bananas over it, I literally walked out of the room. Garcia: Samantha, and Cattrall in turn, were sorely missed. And you're right, Mary, Seema filled some of that void, and you really need that connection across the different characters. Which leads me to my biggest gripe: Why did some characters feel so distant? Lisa's storyline this season was so disconnected from the rest — it seemed like she was with the core group only in passing. And it happened with Nya (Karen Pittman), who disappeared after Season 2, though that had to do with scheduling conflicts. As far as its evolution, I was glad to see the podcast group, with its overbearing members, whittled away — though we had to deal with Che for another season. Those overbearing characters kept getting replaced with other overbearing characters like Giuseppe's mother, played by Patti LuPone, and Brady's baby mama and her odd pals (if the writers were trying to get us to scratch our heads at Gen Z, they did it). While I'll miss being able to turn my brain off for an hour each week, along with the occasional shouts at my TV over some silly line or moment, I can't say I was satisfied in the end. At least when someone said or did something stupid in previous iterations of the show, it was acknowledged in a way that felt true the characters and there was some growth expressed. After the return of Aidan, I can't say that's true here. But now that we're at the end, I have to ask you both how this affects the SATC universe? Did this disrupt the canon? Was there something memorable you'll take away at least? A character, a moment, a ridiculously oversized piece of jewelry, hat or bag? Villarreal: Oh geez. There's no question — for me, at least — where this sequel falls in the SATC universe. The original series, even with its moments that didn't stand the test of time, will always be supreme; the first movie, while hardly perfect, gave us some memorable BFF moments — like Charlotte giving Big eye daggers after he left Carrie at the altar or Samantha feeding a heartbroken Carrie — that keep it in my rewatch rotation. I'd place 'And Just Like That …' after that, with the Abu Dhabi getaway movie dead last. What will I miss? For sure the fashion moments, especially the ones that broke my brain, like Carrie's Michelin Man snowstorm getup or her recent gingham headwear disaster that my former colleague Meredith Blake described as Strawberry Shortcake … and don't get me started on Lisa's jumbo balls of twine necklace. I'm curious, Mary, as someone who has watched your share of series finales, how you felt about this conclusion and whether it served that mission. This season had episodes that felt like wasted filler and didn't do much to move the plot forward. Last week's penultimate episode is what convinced me the wrapping up of this series was not planned. It was 28 minutes of huh? And what about Carrie's book? I would add it to my Kindle just out of curiosity. While I maybe would have seen all that's transpired as an opportunity for Carrie to write a memoir on love and loss à la Carole Radziwill, I did get a kick out of the excerpts from Carrie's take on a 19th century woman having an existential crisis. And look, maybe I'm schmaltzy, but I did sort of love the last line she tacked on in her epilogue: 'The woman realized, she was not alone — she was on her own.' Mary, are you judging me right now? I promise I didn't dance to Barry White's 'You're the First, the Last, My Everything' through the halls of my apartment after watching. But I would have loved more exploration of that thread sooner — I mean, aren't there studies about women being happier, or at least less stressed, later in life once their spouse dies? I believe it! It doesn't mean you can't have companionship in other ways. Anyway, what's the takeaway from what happened with this show? Hollywood isn't going to stop trying to find new life in established properties. So, what can be learned from what went wrong here? McNamara: Yvonne! I would never judge you! And the world would be a far better place if everyone danced around their domiciles more often. I think Carrie realizing that her life is full and happy without a partner is actually a perfect way to end this series. (She will certainly never want for romance — So. Much. Tulle.) I just wish it had felt less rushed and did not involve a weird giant plushie at a robot restaurant. Whatever sequence of events led to the final scene, I have to believe that was going to be Carrie's journey all along. I even liked the debate over the ending of her book — if only the book had not been so terrible! I will certainly miss marveling at Parker's Olympics-worthy ability to navigate nearly any surface in heels (and 'sell' outfits that seem more like Halloween costumes than style) as well as those rare conversations, like the one at the bridal show, that allowed a situation to be viewed from multiple points of view. As for the finale, it felt very much in keeping with the intention, if not the overall execution, of the series. I am not cold-hearted enough to want any of these characters to depart mid-crisis or accept less than a happy life. Sure, it was a bit pat, with everyone's story neatly boxed up like a Thanksgiving pie. But who doesn't like pie? Garcia: I love pie! But let's not forget, like the toilet that overflowed (with a few logs, to boot) in the final scenes, too much of something isn't always what we need. Villarreal: Is this a safe space to share that if the girls make up with Samantha/Cattrall in their 70s, I'll be ready for their return to my screen? Sorry, not sorry — I don't have time to set healthy boundaries with friendships that are no longer serving me.
