Ever since Henry David Thoreau, that original hipster, built his “airy and unplastered cabin” beside Walden Pond, male writers have been rushing to get off the grid—and tell you about it.
Growing up in a working-class family, Tracy Moore’s childhood was defined by what she lacked—financial security and social mobility.
A practitioner of “straight photography,” Berenice Abbott never altered her subjects or scene, and in doing so captured more than 300 photographs of New York City as it evolved from 1929 to 1938.
Minimalism can be a lifestyle. Sometimes, though, it’s not a choice. We spoke to Jana Kasperkevic, a former financial journalist for the Guardian U.S., about her decision to pursue stories of economic hardship and why we never talk about money.
A master of precise language, Grace Paley was an author and poet known for incorporating the daily lives of New York women into her short stories and novels.
Influenced by Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, Anne LaBastille built a secluded log cabin in the mountains in 1965 and lived there without modern luxuries for decades.
An iconic flapper and sex symbol, Clara Bow’s popularity waned with the advent of “talkies,” and she retired from film in 1933. Her legacy lives on, however, as Hollywood’s very first “It Girl.”
Basic, simple, minimal, elegant—behind these catalogue descriptors is a culture in retreat. Too many choices, too much opportunity, too much pressure to create individuality through style has led to a trend of minimalist fashion. Marni Chan takes apart the stark aesthetics of contemporary dress to reveal the social discomfort born from abundance.
While a tenet of minimalist philosophy is awareness—the removal of all but the essential in order to fully appreciate an object, a food, a garment—this makes its opposite equally true. Minimalism is a throttle on pleasure, a restriction of life. A spiritual starvation. Jessica Gross examines two sides of the minimalist approach.
What is minimalism in the context of a relationship? Can the phrase “I’m sorry” be delivered without associations, expectations, and interpretations overwhelming its intent? Sarah Gerard explores the complex process of offering a simple apology.
Only by leaving things behind could photographer Molly Steele see—and share—the world more fully.
Two Williamsburg artists, gallery owners and urban pioneers have made Williamsburg history by turning unconventional spaces into artistic strongholds.
Women’s bodies are full of exciting undulations that defy the sweep of the designer’s pencil. In trying to impose clean minimalist forms onto wobbly eclectic bodies, we wonder, “Am I a rectangle? An hourglass? A triangle?” Sara Cornish examines the history of this absurdly reductive tradition.
When environmental activist Lauren Singer realized how much plastic she was throwing away each day, she decided to give up garbage. Now she’s out to help other people build more sustainable routines.
Penny Sparke begins her book on the relationship between gender politics and design, As Long as It’s Pink, by recounting a segment from the cult 1990s BBC television series “Signs of the Times.”