“If we make the choice of ignoring pain rather than confronting it, we become a space that is not occupied by emotions, one numb to hurt.” Should we enter this liminal space of emotional emptiness or embrace the child in us who felt, played, and lived every moment?
Read MoreStanding in a hallway back in Bucharest made me realize how little I understand about the generations who stepped on the same cold concrete as me, about their worries and struggles that traversed the same paths. In a timeless, sterile space I found a connection to my past, and a guide towards what lies ahead. And all of it waits for a door to open.
Read MoreA winter journey through Milan’s art scene, where form confronts fragility. From Giovanni Gastel’s suspended elegance at Palazzo Citterio to FEUERSTÜHLE at Galleria Montegani, Mapplethorpe at Palazzo Reale, Austyn Weiner at Massimo De Carlo, and Triennale’s White Out, each exhibition reflects on preservation, transformation, and impermanence.
Read MoreA place that does not keep you. Here, you'll find reflection, waiting, and the sound of departure repeating itself. Time is borrowed, roles loosen their grip. For those unclaimed by destination, for those who trust movement more than answers, for those who seek comfort in incompleteness.
Read MoreAn uncanny journey through the ever-changing house of the mind. When I dream, I drift through chaos, control, and becoming. Between waking and sleep, my unconscious speaks in fragments. Time blurs, identity loosens, and something in me is remembered—then lost.
Read MoreI live in a space between wanting clarity and learning to stay with uncertainty. I keep searching for a door out, a moment that tells me I’ve arrive, that I’m done becoming. But the longer I circle this threshold, the more I wonder if my need for answers is what keeps me here
Read MoreI hope to bring you into my bed☆ and, scene by scene, make you fragile☆. For those who ask for intimacy they cannot sustain, for those who love endless trees, for those who walk their own bed on a leash with pride. I caress you all☆and watch you☆ while lying in your liminal space☆☆MADDA
Read MoreIn the haze between memory and dream, anemoia melodies draw us into remembering places we have never seen before. Guided by The Caretaker’s ghostlike sounds, we drift through the liminal, where time dissolves and reality fractures into the uncanny, finding in the silence of the future an eerie rebirth.
Read MoreA shared house is a liminal space that walks into your life. Imagine having a roommate, a stranger who is always in your house. You absorb their stories, their calls, their laughter. Yet in this in-between, something aligns, and you realise that simply feeling part of something may be enough.
Read MoreBelow Milan’s polished streets lies another city made of echoes, flickering lights, and strangers in motion. Between departures and arrivals, the subway becomes a space where time folds, and the self dissolves into movement. A fleeting threshold between what has been left behind and what has yet to arrive. Where the city shows its most authentic side, and so do we.
Read MoreWe are creatures of thresholds craving permanence, yet our only constant is change. We long to arrive, yet the act of arriving empties the arrival of its meaning. Once the thing we awaited becomes ours, the waiting itself dissolves, and with it, a certain aliveness. Hence, we look again toward the next horizon, the next job, the next version of ourselves. As the queue advances, we step forward.
Read MoreIn the liminal spaces between objectivity and subjectivity, art finds its pulse. This is where the invisible and the outcasts, like Henry Darger and Judith Scott, create, transforming isolation into invention. Darger’s hidden epic and Scott’s intricate sculptures speak louder than any words, bridging the gap between the worlds they inhabit and the one that ignores them.
Read MoreLiminal spaces belong neither to where we’ve been nor where we’re going. They exist in the threshold, between step and step, silence and word, dusk and dawn. Here, time blurs, certainty falters, and transformation begins. To dwell in liminality is to dwell in becoming.
Read MoreNadja’s unanswered “Who am I?” echoes through Breton’s glove, Proust’s illusions, and Francesca Woodman’s fragile self-portraits. Between absence and desire, intimacy and disappearance, women shift from muse to ghost, from object to creator. In Woodman’s images, the unseen becomes visible, fragility gains presence, and absence itself is possessed.
Read MoreExplore Delphine Valli’s kaleidoscopic visions, Yuko Mohri’s kinetic installations, Leonora Carrington’s surreal dreamscapes, and Robert Rauschenberg’s radical 1960s works. From contemporary experiments to timeless icons, Milan’s galleries prove that art thrives in the in-between.
Read MoreSpectacle that can’t walk, sit, or breathe still fills the feed. This piece maps how branding borrows the word “art.” Our curated circles feel outside but, at the same time, sit very close to the stage. Maybe the glitch we crave isn’t onstage: it’s in us.
Read MoreWe spend our lives escaping silence, as if stillness were a void instead of a mirror. But the absence of sound is not emptiness — it’s the echo of a primordial stillness, a space where thought thrives and memory lingers, quietly untouched by the noise we’ve learned to need.
Read MoreWhen luxury goods and their counterfeit twins share the same production and manufacturers, authorship starts to look more like a tool for exclusion than a genuine marker of creative integrity. Maybe fakes aren’t that shocking, maybe they’re a reality check for self-important creatives and corporations, a reminder of what honest creation actually is.
Read MoreMy overflowing essence enters another cluster of spirits that stand scrutinizing my form of respect for my identity concept. Naked, my body takes on lightness and gains power. Maybe it plays hide-and-seek between my space and yours. Me & You, we are dots.
Read MoreA love letter to all the versions of love I imagined before they ever had the chance to exist. What does it mean to stay present even when the future no longer fits?
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