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Exhibition traces the story of India's first ‘fairytale palace of modernism'
Exhibition traces the story of India's first ‘fairytale palace of modernism'

Time of India

time2 hours ago

  • Time of India

Exhibition traces the story of India's first ‘fairytale palace of modernism'

In place of a turban, a safari hat crowns the Maharaja's head. As if weary of pearls and emeralds, the Maharani—seated beside him—wears a glowing smile instead. The striking black-and-white photo of Indore's royal couple in their minimalist chic—he in sunglasses and a blazer, coolly gazing out of his car; she, beautiful and jacket-shrouded, glancing shyly at the camera—was taken in 1933 by a German architect who understood their flair for understatement. By then, Berlin-based Eckart Muthesius spent over three years building the style-forward, young duo a sleek palace without a dome, a "temple of avant-garde" that was India's—perhaps Asia's—first centrally air-conditioned home. Even as external affairs minister S Jaishankar recently flew to Germany to strengthen diplomatic ties, an exhibition in Mumbai is showcasing a much older dialogue between the two nations, albeit in the realm of architecture. Sepia images on the green walls of the Kamalnayan Bajaj Gallery in Byculla's Dr Bhau Daji Lad Museum trace the century-old friendship between Yeshwant Rao Holkar II of Indore, his wife Sanyogita, and Muthesius—a bond that gave India one of its earliest modernist buildings: Manik Bagh. Commissioned amid the global economic crisis of 1930 by the slim, English-educated Maharaja who met like-minded Muthesius in Oxford in the 1920s, "Manik Bagh was far ahead of its time," says Raffael Dedo Gadebusch, head of the Asian Art Museum in Berlin who curated the showcase. Built long before Le Corbusier's Chandigarh, "the palace was a so-called Gesamtkunstwerk," says Gadebusch, the curator of the current exhibition, using the German term for a 'total work of art'. "It was a synthesis of architecture, arts, and design like hardly any other building in that period," he adds, comparing the palace—with its sleek lines and pitched roof—to The Bauhaus, the groundbreaking steel-and-glass art school designed by architect Walter Gropius in 1926. Art Deco buildings were just beginning to bloom along Mumbai's Marine Drive in 1933 when the palace—designed in the International Style—was dubbed by the media a "fairy tale palace of modernism". With just nine bedrooms and twenty-four rooms in all, "...this really was a family home rather than a Maharaja's palace," wrote Shivaji Rao 'Richard' Holkar, the Maharaja's son from his third marriage, in the run-up to the 2019 Paris exhibition on his father titled Modern Maharajah. Sent to England at the behest of the British at the age of 12, Yeshwant Holkar II returned to India at age 17 to ascend the throne. By the time he turned 22, he commissioned Muthesius to create his vision of a modernist palace—an Art Deco and Bauhaus-inspired fantasy called Manik Bagh. Muthesius, the son of renowned architect Hermann Muthesius, grew up in a country home frequented by intellectual luminaries such as Albert Einstein. His love of detail came from his mother, a singer and self-taught interior designer. Alongside little-known watercolours, drawings, and design studies by Muthesius, the show features 50 rare vintage photographs by Muthesius, German photographer Emil Leitner, and American visual artist Man Ray, who famously captured the royal couple between moments of affection. Sourced from collections loaned by art patrons Taimur Hassan and Prahlad Bubbar, the images highlight curated objects from the palace, crafted by avant-garde designers who shared Muthesius's minimalist vision. The use of already produced furniture—like the tubular steel chaise longue by Le Corbusier, red armchairs by brothers Wassili and Hans Luckhardt, and pieces by London's PEL company—reflected the jazz-music-loving Maharaja's admiration for the democratic ideals embedded in modernist design. "He was consciously moving away from colonial aesthetics," points out Gadebusch, who believes the Kamalnayan Bajaj gallery, with its original Art Deco tiles, harmonises beautifully with the abstract-patterned carpets designed by Ivan da Silva Bruhns, the French-Brazilian visionary known for his innovations in Art Deco textiles. In a picture titled The Machine Room, the palace's sophisticated air-conditioning unit, manufactured by Borsig in Berlin, looks like a grungy installation—an echo of the 1920s, when machines commanded their own aesthetic category. "Technically, it was a marvel," says Gadebusch, about the palace whose water faucets, staircase banisters, light fixtures, and retractable awnings were all produced in Germany as per Muthesius's strict specifications. Instead of wallpaper, the walls were painted with pigments mixed with glass or metal particles. Doors and windows employed steel frames and thick tinted glass—unprecedented in Asian architecture. Lighting elements, such as the lamps above the Maharani's bed and the wall fixture in the Maharaja's library, were so stark and abstract that, as Gadebusch notes, "they seem to anticipate the minimalism movement of the late 1960s." This subtle aesthetic even extended to a train Muthesius designed later for the Maharaja, standing in sharp contrast to the ostentatious railcars associated with Indian royalty. When the initial plans and furnishings were unveiled in Berlin in the early 1930s, art critics celebrated it as a "fairy tale palace of modernism". Later, the palace evolved to blend beauty and utility, featuring innovations such as clear and darkly tinted glass panes set in metal frames to regulate natural light, India's first air-conditioning system, cubist para vents, pictorial carpets, and vibrantly coloured walls. The circulatory verandas facing the inner courtyard were a thoughtful nod to India's tropical climate. "My father put his foot down on only one major design element," wrote Richard Holkar. "Muthesius wanted a flat roof, in line with the modernist idiom of Le Corbusier, but my father insisted it wouldn't withstand the monsoon. Muthesius relented, designing a sloped roof covered with custom-made green ceramic tiles. International acclaim followed its completion in 1933. The palace became a showcase for modernist masterpieces, and Muthesius was appointed 'Chief Master Builder' of Indore. In 1934, he curated an exhibition at Bombay's Town Hall (now the Asiatic Society of Mumbai), bringing Manik Bagh's bold aesthetic to the heart of India's art scene. Even Romanian sculptor Constantin Brancusi became involved, travelling to Indore in 1937 to design a 'Temple of Love and Peace' for the royal family. That year, after the sudden death of the young Maharani in a Swiss clinic at age 23, the temple was reimagined as a memorial. Among the standout vintage prints at the exhibition, you will find Brancusi's iconic 'Bird in Space'—a sculpture that the Maharaja bought in black marble, white marble, and bronze—soaring in the Maharaja's living room. A dedicated section showcases other unrealised projects, including a sleek lakeside villa and houseboat in Kashmir. Though Manik Bagh faded from public consciousness following World War II—when Muthesius returned to Germany and Indore merged with the Indian state in 1947—the palace briefly resurfaced in 1970, when French journalist Robert Descharnes stumbled upon it, astonished by its preservation. Some years later, the Indian govt abolished the privileges of the Maharaja families and revoked the state's obligation to pay them maintenance. As a result, furniture, carpets, and lighting fixtures from their residences found their way—often via circuitous routes—back to Europe. In 1980, Sotheby's auctioned off many of these items, including rugs and a striking aluminium and chrome bed with built-in glass bookshelves. Among the bidders was designer Yves Saint Laurent, who also sought a pair of distinctive floor lamps. Stripped of his power and forced to adjust to a new socio-political landscape after independence, the Maharaja of Indore married twice more before passing away in Mumbai at age 53. His children and heirs, Usha Devi and Richard Holkar, preserved his legacy. However, after the abolition of privy purses and royal titles in 1976, they were required to hand over Manik Bagh Palace to the govt. Its eclectic European furnishings were sold at auctions and replaced with utilitarian Godrej cupboards now filled with bureaucratic files. Unironically, the former home of a couple who once enjoyed tax-free govt stipends now serves as the headquarters of the central GST and excise commissioner. When the Maharaja's Mumbai-based grandson, Yeshwant Holkar, visited Manik Bagh last year to invite the commissioner to an exhibition, he found the palace in a state "not befitting of its history or importance." "It's important that govt officials are made aware of its heritage so that any renovations are sensitive to its legacy," says Holkar, who believes the palace could thrive as a museum or a design institute. "Given its global reputation as a modernist icon, the govt could do far more with it." According to Gadebusch, Manik Bagh remains largely unknown to the Indian public outside design and architecture circles. Yet, it is a remarkable example of Indian patronage of Western design and architecture during the Great Depression. Few are aware of Muthesius's pivotal role in creating what is arguably India's most avant-garde residence. "On one hand, it's saddening to see it fall short of its potential. On the other hand, there's real hope. Much can still be restored," says Yeshwant Holkar. "The ball is in the govt's court."

The making of India's first ‘fairytale palace of modernism'
The making of India's first ‘fairytale palace of modernism'

Time of India

time3 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • Time of India

The making of India's first ‘fairytale palace of modernism'

In place of a turban, a safari hat crowns the Maharaja's head. As if weary of pearls and emeralds, the Maharani wears a glowing smile instead. The striking black-and-white photo of Indore's royal couple in their minimalist chic—he in sunglasses and a blazer, she beautiful and jacketed—was taken in 1933 by a German architect who understood their flair for understatement. By then, Berlin-based Eckart Muthesius had spent over three years building the young couple a sleek palace without a dome, a "temple of avant-garde" that was India's first centrally air-conditioned home. Even as external affairs minister S Jaishankar recently flew to Germany to strengthen diplomatic ties, an exhibition in Mumbai is showcasing a much older dialogue between the two nations, albeit in the realm of architecture. Sepia images on the walls of the Kamalnayan Bajaj Gallery in Byculla's Dr Bhau Daji Lad Museum trace the century-old friendship between Yeshwant Rao Holkar II of Indore, his wife Sanyogita, and Muthesius—a bond that gave India one of its earliest modernist buildings: Manik Bagh. Commissioned in 1930 by the maharaja, who met Muthesius in Oxford in the 1920s, "Manik Bagh was far ahead of its time," says the show's curator Raffael Dedo Gadebusch, who heads the Asian Art Museum in Berlin. "The palace was a synthesis of architecture, arts, and design like hardly any other building in that period," he adds, comparing it to The Bauhaus, the steel-and-glass art school designed by Walter Gropius in 1926. Art Deco buildings were just beginning to bloom on Marine Drive in 1933 when the palace—designed in the International Style—was dubbed a "fairytale palace of modernism". Alongside watercolours, drawings, and design studies by Muthesius, the show features 50 rare photographs by Muthesius, German photographer Emil Leitner, and American visual artist Man Ray. Sourced from collections loaned by art patrons Taimur Hassan and Prahlad Bubbar, the images highlight curated objects from the palace, crafted by avant-garde designers who shared Muthesius's minimalist vision, such as Constantin Brancusi. His iconic 'Bird in Space'—a sculpture the Maharaja bought in black marble, white marble, and bronze—are seen soaring in the maharaja's living room, in vintage prints. The palace's readymade furniture—like the tubular steel chaise longue by Le Corbusier and red armchairs by Wassili and Hans Luckhardt —reflected the jazz-loving Maharaja's admiration for the democratic ideals embedded in modernist design. "He was consciously moving away from colonial aesthetics," points out Gadebusch. "Technically, it was a marvel," says the curator about the palace, whose water faucets, staircase banisters, light fixtures, and retractable awnings were all produced in Germany as per Muthesius's strict specifications. Instead of wallpaper, the walls were painted with pigments mixed with glass or metal particles. Doors and windows employed steel frames and thick tinted glass—unprecedented in Asian architecture. Over time, the palace evolved to blend beauty and utility, featuring innovations such as clear and tinted glass panes set in metal frames, India's first air-conditioning system, pictorial carpets, and vibrantly coloured walls. "My father put his foot down on only one major design element," wrote Shivaji Rao "Richard" Holkar, the Maharaja's son from his third marriage. "Muthesius wanted a flat roof, in line with the modernist idiom of Le Corbusier, but my father insisted it wouldn't withstand the monsoon. Muthesius relented, designing a sloped roof with custom-made green ceramic tiles. International acclaim followed its completion in 1933. The palace became a showcase for modernist masterpieces, and Muthesius was appointed 'Chief Master Builder' of Indore. However, after the abolition of the privy purse, Manik Bagh found several of its furnishings auctioned off by Sotheby's. These included an aluminium-and-chrome bed with built-in glass bookshelves, for which designer Yves Saint Laurent made a bid. Stripped of his power and forced to adjust to a new socio-political landscape after independence, the Maharaja of Indore married twice more before passing away in Mumbai at age 53. Some years later, Manik Bagh Palace passed over to the govt, and its once eclectic European furnishings were replaced with Godrej cupboards filled with bureaucratic files. The former home of a couple who once enjoyed tax-free govt stipends now serves as the headquarters of the central GST and excise commissioner. When the Maharaja's Mumbai-based grandson, Yeshwant Holkar, visited Manik Bagh last year to invite the commissioner to an exhibition, he found the palace in a state "not befitting of its history or importance." "It's important that govt officials are made aware of its heritage so that any renovations are sensitive to its legacy," says Holkar, who believes the palace could thrive as a museum or a design institute. "Given its global reputation as a modernist icon, the govt could do far more with it. The ball is in its court."

From Berlin to Indore: The making of India's first 'fairytale palace of modernism'
From Berlin to Indore: The making of India's first 'fairytale palace of modernism'

Time of India

time5 hours ago

  • Time of India

From Berlin to Indore: The making of India's first 'fairytale palace of modernism'

In place of a turban, a safari hat crowns the Maharaja's head. As if weary of pearls and emeralds, the Maharani—seated beside him—wears a glowing smile instead. The striking black-and-white photo of Indore's royal couple in their minimalist chic—he in sunglasses and a blazer, coolly gazing out of his car; she, beautiful and jacket-shrouded, glancing shyly at the camera—was taken in 1933 by a German architect who understood their flair for understatement. By then, Berlin-based Eckart Muthesius spent over three years building the style-forward, young duo a sleek palace without a dome, a "temple of avant-garde" that was India's—perhaps Asia's—first centrally air-conditioned home. Even as external affairs minister S Jaishankar recently flew to Germany to strengthen diplomatic ties, an exhibition in Mumbai is showcasing a much older dialogue between the two nations, albeit in the realm of architecture. Sepia images on the green walls of the Kamalnayan Bajaj Gallery in Byculla's Dr Bhau Daji Lad Museum trace the century-old friendship between Yeshwant Rao Holkar II of Indore, his wife Sanyogita, and Muthesius—a bond that gave India one of its earliest modernist buildings: Manik Bagh. Commissioned amid the global economic crisis of 1930 by the slim, English-educated Maharaja who met like-minded Muthesius in Oxford in the 1920s, "Manik Bagh was far ahead of its time," says Raffael Dedo Gadebusch, head of the Asian Art Museum in Berlin who curated the showcase. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like 2025 Top Trending local enterprise accounting software [Click Here] Esseps Learn More Undo Built long before Le Corbusier's Chandigarh, "the palace was a so-called Gesamtkunstwerk," says Gadebusch, the curator of the current exhibition, using the German term for a 'total work of art'. "It was a synthesis of architecture, arts, and design like hardly any other building in that period," he adds, comparing the palace—with its sleek lines and pitched roof—to The Bauhaus, the groundbreaking steel-and-glass art school designed by architect Walter Gropius in 1926. Art Deco buildings were just beginning to bloom along Mumbai's Marine Drive in 1933 when the palace—designed in the International Style—was dubbed by the media a "fairy tale palace of modernism". With just nine bedrooms and twenty-four rooms in all, "..this really was a family home rather than a Maharaja's palace," wrote Shivaji Rao "Richard" Holkar, the Maharaja's son from his third marriage, in the run-up to the 2019 Paris exhibition on his father titled 'Modern Maharajah'. Sent to England at the behest of the British at the age of 12, Yeshwant Holkar II returned to India at age 17 to ascend the throne. By the time he turned 22, he commissioned Muthesius to create his vision of a modernist palace—an Art Deco and Bauhaus-inspired fantasy called Manik Bagh. Muthesius, the son of renowned architect Hermann Muthesius, grew up in a country home frequented by intellectual luminaries such as Albert Einstein. His love of detail came from his mother, a singer and self-taught interior designer. Alongside little-known watercolours, drawings, and design studies by Muthesius, the show features 50 rare vintage photographs by Muthesius, German photographer Emil Leitner, and American visual artist Man Ray, who famously captured the royal couple between moments of affection. Sourced from collections loaned by art patrons Taimur Hassan and Prahlad Bubbar, the images highlight curated objects from the palace, crafted by avant-garde designers who shared Muthesius's minimalist vision. The use of already produced furniture—like the tubular steel chaise longue by Le Corbusier, red armchairs by brothers Wassili and Hans Luckhardt, and pieces by London's PEL company—reflected the jazz-music-loving Maharaja's admiration for the democratic ideals embedded in modernist design. "He was consciously moving away from colonial aesthetics," points out Gadebusch, who believes the Kamalnayan Bajaj gallery, with its original Art Deco tiles, harmonizes beautifully with the abstract-patterned carpets designed by Ivan da Silva Bruhns, the French-Brazilian visionary known for his innovations in Art Deco textiles. In a picture titled 'The Machine Room', the palace's sophisticated air-conditioning unit, manufactured by Borsig in Berlin, looks like a grungy installation—an echo of the 1920s, when machines commanded their own aesthetic category. "Technically, it was a marvel," says Gadebusch, about the palace whose water faucets, staircase banisters, light fixtures, and retractable awnings were all produced in Germany as per Muthesius' strict specifications. Instead of wallpaper, the walls were painted with pigments mixed with glass or metal particles. Doors and windows employed steel frames and thick tinted glass—unprecedented in Asian architecture. Lighting elements, such as the lamps above the Maharani's bed and the wall fixture in the Maharaja's library, were so stark and abstract that, as Gadebusch notes, "they seem to anticipate the minimalism movement of the late 1960s." This subtle aesthetic even extended to a train Muthesius designed later for the Maharaja, standing in sharp contrast to the ostentatious railcars associated with Indian royalty. When the initial plans and furnishings were unveiled in Berlin in the early 1930s, art critics celebrated it as a "fairy tale palace of modernism". Later, the palace evolved to blend beauty and utility, featuring innovations such as clear and darkly tinted glass panes set in metal frames to regulate natural light, India's first air-conditioning system, cubist para vents, pictorial carpets, and vibrantly coloured walls. The circulatory verandas facing the inner courtyard were a thoughtful nod to India's tropical climate. "My father put his foot down on only one major design element," wrote Richard Holkar. "Muthesius wanted a flat roof, in line with the modernist idiom of Le Corbusier, but my father insisted it wouldn't withstand the monsoon. Muthesius relented, designing a sloped roof covered with custom-made green ceramic tiles. International acclaim followed its completion in 1933. The palace became a showcase for modernist masterpieces, and Muthesius was appointed 'Chief Master Builder' of Indore. In 1934, he curated an exhibition at Bombay's Town Hall (now the Asiatic Society of Mumbai), bringing Manik Bagh's bold aesthetic to the heart of India's art scene. Even Romanian sculptor Constantin Brancusi became involved, travelling to Indore in 1937 to design a 'Temple of Love and Peace' for the royal family. That year, after the sudden death of the young Maharani in a Swiss clinic at age 23, the temple was reimagined as a memorial. Among the standout vintage prints at the exhibition, you will find Brancusi's iconic 'Bird in Space'—a sculpture that the Maharaja bought in black marble, white marble, and bronze—soaring in the Maharaja's living room. A dedicated section showcases other unrealised projects, including a sleek lakeside villa and houseboat in Kashmir. Though Manik Bagh faded from public consciousness following World War II—when Muthesius returned to Germany and Indore merged with the Indian state in 1947—the palace briefly resurfaced in 1970, when French journalist Robert Descharnes stumbled upon it, astonished by its preservation. Some years later, the Indian govt abolished the privileges of the Maharaja families and revoked the state's obligation to pay them maintenance. As a result, furniture, carpets, and lighting fixtures from their residences found their way—often via circuitous routes—back to Europe. In 1980, Sotheby's auctioned off many of these items, including rugs and a striking aluminium and chrome bed with built-in glass bookshelves. Among the bidders was designer Yves Saint Laurent, who also sought a pair of distinctive floor lamps. Stripped of his power and forced to adjust to a new socio-political landscape after independence, the Maharaja of Indore married twice more before passing away in Mumbai at age 53. His children and heirs, Usha Devi and Richard Holkar, preserved his legacy. However, after the abolition of privy purses and royal titles in 1976, they were required to hand over Manik Bagh Palace to the govt. Its eclectic European furnishings were sold at auctions and replaced with utilitarian Godrej cupboards now filled with bureaucratic files. Unironically, the former home of a couple who once enjoyed tax-free govt stipends now serves as the headquarters of the central GST and excise commissioner. When the Maharaja's Mumbai-based grandson, Yeshwant Holkar, visited Manik Bagh last year to invite the commissioner to an exhibition, he found the palace in a state "not befitting of its history or importance." "It's important that govt officials are made aware of its heritage so that any renovations are sensitive to its legacy," says Holkar, who believes the palace could thrive as a museum or a design institute. "Given its global reputation as a modernist icon, the govt could do far more with it." According to Gadebusch, Manik Bagh remains largely unknown to the Indian public outside design and architecture circles. Yet, it is a remarkable example of Indian patronage of Western design and architecture during the Great Depression. Few are aware of Muthesius's pivotal role in creating what is arguably India's most avant-garde residence. "On one hand, it's saddening to see it fall short of its potential. On the other hand, there's real hope. Much can still be restored," says Yeshwant Holkar. "The ball is in the govt's court."

Explore the idea of home with 160km of red cord in artist Chiharu Shiota's Boston show
Explore the idea of home with 160km of red cord in artist Chiharu Shiota's Boston show

Straits Times

time12 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • Straits Times

Explore the idea of home with 160km of red cord in artist Chiharu Shiota's Boston show

Berlin-based Japanese artist Chiharu Shiota's new exhibition, Home Less Home, at ICA Watershed is her largest museum show in the United States. PHOTO: PHILIP KEITH/NYTIMES Explore the idea of home with 160km of red cord in artist Chiharu Shiota's Boston show BOSTON – Japanese artist Chiharu Shiota has drawn a simple shape in thin air and at monumental scale: a rectangle with a pitched roof, instantly recognisable as the universal symbol of home. This ethereal installation is made of polyester cord – some 21,000 lengths of it, streaming down 7m from the ceiling of the ICA Watershed, a massive exhibition space at an active shipyard in east Boston. A rectangular forest of blood-red cords hangs nearly to the floor of this former factory space. Inside, the cords shift to lengths of black that form a dark silhouette of a house. Visible within this mirage-like structure are antique furnishings – a four-poster bed, rocking chair, dinette set, sewing table and chair – with a spectacular flock of paper of some 6,000 sheets fluttering above the domestic tableau. Shiota's new commission, titled Home Less Home, opened on May 22 under the banner of the inaugural citywide Boston Public Art Triennial and will remain till Sept 1. Artist Chiharu Shiota's Home Less Home exhibition at ICA Watershed. PHOTO: PHILIP KEITH/NYTIMES 'The house shape looks like a shadow because home does not exist,' Shiota said in a recent interview at the Watershed as she reached among the cords to affix the final pieces of paper with a stapler. 'Home is like something in your heart, inside,' added the soft-spoken artist, 53, who grew up in Osaka, Japan, and has lived and worked in Berlin since 1997. Her immigrant story, both personal and age-old, echoes those of many residents living in east Boston near the shipyard, once the second-largest point of immigration in the United States, after Ellis Island. Earlier this spring, the ICA distributed a flier asking the local community to consider Shiota's open-ended questions of 'what home means, what it feels like to leave home and what it takes to rebuild it'. The Home Less Home exhibition includes the personal stories, photographs, drawings and documents of members of the local community in Boston. PHOTO: PHILIP KEITH/NYTIMES Their personal stories, photographs, drawings and documents were reproduced on the sheets of white paper animating her installation. For almost three decades, the artist has created haunting, visceral environments using vast webs and fields of her signature cords – she calls them 'threads' – entwined with accumulations of well-worn objects, such as shoes or beds, that evoke both human presence and absence. At the Venice Biennale in Italy in 2015, Shiota transformed the Japanese Pavilion with an atmospheric matrix of red thread embedded with thousands of collected keys raining down into wooden row boats – objects poetically summoning ideas of entry, exit, passage and afterlife. A mid-career retrospective that opened at the Mori Art Museum in Tokyo in 2019, The Soul Trembles, has toured places such as Busan, South Korea; Shanghai and Shenzhen, China ; Jakarta, Indonesia; Brisbane, Australia; and most recently Paris – with an accompanying monograph published this spring by Skira. The show travels next to Italy and Canada. Mori Art Museum director Mami Kataoka, who organised the retrospective, said via e-mail that she has been astonished by visitor numbers worldwide that have far exceeded each institution's expectations. 'Beyond cultural differences, this response underscores the universality of the themes in Chiharu's work,' Ms Kataoka wrote, including 'our shared fear about an uncertain future and our common quest to understand the meaning of life and what may lie beyond it'. Artist Chiharu Shiota often uses networks of wool thread, a medium she feels better conjures the intangible tangles of emotions and invisible connections among people. PHOTO: PHILIP KEITH/NYTIMES Shiota left her home in Japan with just one suitcase to study abroad, eventually finding her way to Berlin. She trained as an abstract painter, but early on shifted to 'painting in the air' – as she called it – using networks of wool thread, a medium she felt better conjured the intangible tangles of emotions and invisible connections among people. 'Many times, I'm using red string, the colour of blood,' she said, symbolic of 'family, nation, religion and survival'. In Berlin, a city she found weighted with history and inspiring to her artwork, Shiota met her husband and raised their daughter, who is now 18. 'Now, I have the feeling I have two home countries,' said the artist, who often collects discarded suitcases and other commonplace items at Berlin flea markets for her installations. Pieces of vintage leather luggage are part of the exhibition, Home Less Home. PHOTO: PHILIP KEITH/NYTIMES For the exhibition at the ICA Watershed, Shiota's largest museum show in the US, she has also adapted her 2014 piece, Accumulation – Searching For The Destination, near the entrance as part of her reflection on home. Thirty pieces of vintage leather luggage dangling inside another shower of red threads lead viewers into the show. Some of the suitcases have an internal motor, making them bob as if adrift at sea. 'Each person, one suitcase – they're ready to go, but we don't know where,' said Shiota, who will have solo shows in New York at the Japan Society and Templon gallery later in 2025. Ms Ruth Erickson, chief curator at the ICA, said: 'Chiharu is incredible at picking these objects that feel like they have this lifetime of wear and use and memory in them, that can be a kind of surrogate for a human story.' She invited Shiota to make the site-specific installation for the cavernous Watershed space, calling her 'an artist who understands how to work at a scale that can be a real challenge'. Home Less Home comprises around 160km of cord. PHOTO: PHILIP KEITH/NYTIMES Home Less Home comprises around 160km of cord . Walking the processional length of the installation, a visitor experiences it perceptually dissolving into singular threads up close, while in longer views, it coalesces into a majestic volume. Shiota has created a winding pathway through the heart of her project, and viewers can see at close range what is printed on the fluttering sheets of paper. There are photographs of airport reunions, children playing on lawns, a Venezuelan's first experience of snow in Boston. One person offered a recipe for apple dumplings. A child's drawing of a house includes the handwritten line: 'Home is all the important people who makes the life better.' A woman contributed her falsified adoption papers deeming her an orphan, with the accompanying message: 'May all Korean adoptees find their way back home.' Personal photographs of community members are part of the exhibition. PHOTO: PHILIP KEITH/NYTIMES While none of Shiota's work is overtly political, 'this idea of where one makes one's home, and what the connections are to a place, could never be more at the forefront of our minds', Ms Erickson said. 'We see a country and an administration really analysing those rights.' Against the backdrop of court cases and debates raging in the news cycle about the fate of immigrants, who often are portrayed as a faceless monolith, the testimonies in Home Less Home are acute in their individuality. Sifting through these collected stories, they touched Shiota like a chorus of voices. 'I never met this person,' she said, 'but I feel like I know this person.' NYTIMES Join ST's Telegram channel and get the latest breaking news delivered to you.

NYALA Digital Asset AG paves new way for digital securities as a profitable investment
NYALA Digital Asset AG paves new way for digital securities as a profitable investment

Korea Herald

time2 days ago

  • Business
  • Korea Herald

NYALA Digital Asset AG paves new way for digital securities as a profitable investment

FRANKFURT, Germany, May 29, 2025 /PRNewswire/ -- The financial world is undergoing a revolutionary transformation, and NYALA Digital Asset AG is positioning itself as a pioneer in this change. This German company is shaping the future of capital markets and opening new paths for businesses and investors alike. NYALA is the first truly digital alternative to traditional investment banks. The company offers a platform through which stocks and bonds can be issued—without exchanges, banks, or paperwork. Faster, cheaper, and across borders. In doing so, NYALA is democratizing both capital access for companies and investment opportunities for retail investors. NYALA's pioneering work is regulated under Germany's Electronic Securities Act (eWpG) and was recently awarded a government research grant from the German Federal Ministry of Research. NYALA solves a serious issue: traditional capital markets aren't built for small and mid-sized enterprises. IPOs require multi-million budgets and specialized legal advisors. As a result, 90% of mid-sized growth companies lack access. This often leads to the most exciting investment opportunities being allocated behind closed doors—to exclusive investor circles. A New Era for Capital Markets: DPO Instead of IPO What used to be a costly and complex IPO is now a lean, digital process. NYALA enables so-called DPOs—Digital Public Offerings. Companies issue securities directly to investors via digital channels: through their websites, apps, or partner platforms. According to Larry Fink, CEO of BlackRock—the world's largest asset manager—the future of capital markets lies in this kind of digital securities. The market holds enormous potential: by 2030, volumes of over €10 trillion are expected. In Europe, there is an annual funding gap of €800 billion that NYALA aims to close. Already, over 5,000 investors and issuers from six EU countries trust the platform. An Exciting Announcement for Investors: With a current share price of around €90, significant short-term potential and a target above €1.000, investors can now participate online—a process as simple as online shopping. And 15% of investments in NYALA can be refunded by the German Office for Economic Affairs. More information at Against this backdrop, the business editors of the FRANKFURTER TAGESZEITUNG see NYALA as one of the pioneers in the digital transformation of the financial sector. NYALA is now expanding across Europe and offers investors the chance to get in early on a promising future. With a solid foundation and a clear growth path, this Berlin-based company is revolutionizing how capital is raised and applied to benefit the European economy. The digitization of finance has begun—and NYALA is leading it forward. META DESCRIPTION: Discover NYALA Digital Asset AG: Digital securities are revolutionizing the capital market. Yield-driven investments for private investors and new financing routes for SMEs. Join the funding round now!

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