#war-damage-to-art

#war-damage-to-art

In the rugged Hindu Kush mountains of eastern Afghanistan, hundreds of men scour the rocky Kunar riverbed for precious gold dust, creating a livelihood amid limited economic options.

Maryna, the main heroine of Twenty One, has only one wish that her soldier husband Petro comes back alive. She frantically raises tens of thousands of dollars online to buy drones, weapons and power generators for the front line.

"I have never chosen to adopt the title of 'refugee,' yet it keeps haunting me. It is scribbled on my Palestinian national identification card and follows my name in human rights conferences."

Knowles's performances, such as Make a Salad and Identical Lunch, showcased her unique approach to art through food, engaging audiences in the experience of preparation and consumption.

Ambulance for Monuments operates through a collaborative network of organizations and volunteers, redefining the role of the architect in heritage preservation by involving professionals, students, craftsmen, and local communities.

The designation prohibits the sites from being targeted or used for military purposes, with violations potentially constituting serious breaches of the 1954 Hague Convention and grounds for criminal responsibility.

A typical Capricorn, so stubborn, says his wife, Sveta. It was 2015, the war in Donbas was growing in intensity. I heard someone on TV complaining that Roma aren't defending their homeland. This pissed me off, and so I volunteered, says Ilchak. In the territorial recruitment centre in Uzhhorod the Ukrainian soldiers were surprised, but they had to take him.

With millions of soldiers estimated to be suffering from trauma-related conditions, not to mention civilians, Ukraine faces an urgent question: How will it treat the lasting mental scars of war? Among the emerging possibilities is psychedelic-assisted therapy (PAT) in treatment of war-related trauma, a controversial yet increasingly researched approach that some experts believe could play a transformative role in veteran mental health care.

We want to show people something of the physical reality of the conflict. We hope to bring it home to them that this is a war going on here and now in Europe, and that we ignore it at our peril.

Bregman claims, 'Today the whole of Europe risks turning into one big Venice, a beautiful open-air museum. A great destination for Chinese and American tourists. A place to admire what was once the centre of the world.' This statement encapsulates the concern that Europe is losing its cultural significance.

Her son has put in the request to the volunteer humanitarian team ferrying civilians to safety in the east of the country. But she is caring for her brother, who is paralysed, the woman protests and what about her German shepherd? As explosions boom terrifyingly close, a volunteer patiently explains that his team will carry her brother to the minivan and don't worry, bring the dog.

Life doesn't pause for grief or fear. You might be going through something devastating but you're still packing lunches, still driving your kids to baseball practice, still showing up to work. One minute I find myself prepping for a whole home presentation and the next minute I'm checking the news, hoping and praying that no one has been killed on the streets today.

Ali Sbeity painted vibrant portraits and landscapes of his rural hometown in Southern Lebanon, often sharing his works on his Facebook. He participated in numerous local arts exhibitions and created murals for schools in Beirut.

It was like living in two worlds, and having to go from one to another in a dramatic way. From attending film festivals and walking down red carpets to crossing the Poland border and getting into the trenches, recalls Ukrainian filmmaker Mstyslav Chernov (Kharkiv, 40 years old) of September 2023, when he was headed from screening to screening, kicking off the race to the Oscars that he would ultimately win with his documentary 20 Days in Mariupol.

Alexei clears his throat without showing the slightest expression on his face. Squatting and wearing gloves, he shakes the military uniform that once belonged to a man. The jacket and trousers still hold their shape, but inside there is nothing. Just air. Alexei pulls out a worn, stained piece of paper from one of the pockets. Andrei. Moscow, he reads aloud. There's a phone number written here. Good. It helps us trace his origin. Whoever he was, he was a Russian soldier.

In 2025, the administration of US President Donald Trump ordered the US Agency for International Development to be closed; this year, it withdrew the country from 66 international organizations. Other Western nations that are plagued with high levels of debt and pressure to prioritize domestic challenges have slashed their foreign aid, too. According to projections, official development assistance dropped by 9-17% in 2025, amounting to some US$55 billion.

Four years into Russia's full-scale invasion, Ukraine continues to fight a war that has reshaped every aspect of its public and private life. Since returning from my recent brief journey to my home city, I have found myself having the same conversation repeatedly: Lviv is far from the frontlines, so is life simply normal there?

As if demolishing the East Wing, gutting arts agencies, and slapping his name and face on several federal buildings weren't enough, the US president now wants to do away with a DC building known as the "Sistine Chapel of New Deal art." This week, we reported on a burgeoning campaign to save the Wilbur J. Cohen Federal Building, which houses murals by Ben Shahn, Philip Guston, Seymour Fogel, and other major American artists. We will continue to follow this story.