We Need to Stop Pretending AI is Intelligent – Here’s How

Giving AI a human face, voice or tone is a dangerous act of cross-dressing. It triggers an automatic response in us andromorphic reflex.

By Guillaume Thierry, Bangor University

We are constantly fed a version of AI that looks, sounds and acts suspiciously like us. It speaks in polished sentences, mimics emotions, expresses curiosity, claims to feel compassion, even dabbles in what it calls creativity.

But here’s the truth: it possesses none of those qualities. It is not human. And presenting it as if it were? That’s dangerous. Because it’s convincing. And nothing is more dangerous than a convincing illusion.

In particular, general artificial intelligence — the mythical kind of AI that supposedly mirrors human thought — is still science fiction, and it might well stay that way.

What we call AI today is nothing more than a statistical machine: a digital parrot regurgitating patterns mined from oceans of human data (the situation hasn’t changed much since it was discussed here five years ago). When it writes an answer to a question, it literally just guesses which letter and word will come next in a sequence – based on the data it’s been trained on.

This means AI has no understanding. No consciousness. No knowledge in any real, human sense. Just pure probability-driven, engineered brilliance — nothing more, and nothing less.

So why is a real “thinking” AI likely impossible? Because it’s bodiless. It has no senses, no flesh, no nerves, no pain, no pleasure. It doesn’t hunger, desire or fear. And because there is no cognition — not a shred — there’s a fundamental gap between the data it consumes (data born out of human feelings and experience) and what it can do with them.

Philosopher David Chalmers calls the mysterious mechanism underlying the relationship between our physical body and consciousness the “hard problem of consciousness”. Eminent scientists have recently hypothesised that consciousness actually emerges from the integration of internal, mental states with sensory representations (such as changes in heart rate, sweating and much more).

Given the paramount importance of the human senses and emotion for consciousness to “happen”, there is a profound and probably irreconcilable disconnect between general AI, the machine, and consciousness, a human phenomenon.

The master

Before you argue that AI programmers are human, let me stop you there. I know they’re human. That’s part of the problem. Would you entrust your deepest secrets, life decisions, emotional turmoil, to a computer programmer? Yet that’s exactly what people are doing — just ask Claude, GPT-4.5, Gemini … or, if you dare, Grok.

Giving AI a human face, voice or tone is a dangerous act of digital cross-dressing. It triggers an automatic response in us, an anthropomorphic reflex, leading to aberrant claims whereby some AIs are said to have passed the famous Turing test (which tests a machine’s ability to exhibit intelligent, human-like behaiour). But I believe that if AIs are passing the Turing test, we need to update the test.

The AI machine has no idea what it means to be human. It cannot offer genuine compassion, it cannot foresee your suffering, cannot intuit hidden motives or lies. It has no taste, no instinct, no inner compass. It is bereft of all the messy, charming complexity that makes us who we are.

More troubling still: AI has no goals of its own, no desires or ethics unless injected into its code. That means the true danger doesn’t lie in the machine, but in its master — the programmer, the corporation, the government. Still feel safe?

And please, don’t come at me with: “You’re too harsh! You’re not open to the possibilities!” Or worse: “That’s such a bleak view. My AI buddy calms me down when I’m anxious.”

Am I lacking enthusiasm? Hardly. I use AI every day. It’s the most powerful tool I’ve ever had. I can translate, summarise, visualise, code, debug, explore alternatives, analyse data — faster and better than I could ever dream to do it myself.

I’m in awe. But it is still a tool — nothing more, nothing less. And like every tool humans have ever invented, from stone axes and slingshots to quantum computing and atomic bombs, it can be used as a weapon. It will be used as a weapon.

Need a visual? Imagine falling in love with an intoxicating AI, like in the film Her. Now imagine it “decides” to leave you. What would you do to stop it? And to be clear: it won’t be the AI rejecting you. It’ll be the human or system behind it, wielding that tool become weapon to control your behaviour.

Removing the mask

So where am I going with this? We must stop giving AI human traits. My first interaction with GPT-3 rather seriously annoyed me. It pretended to be a person. It said it had feelings, ambitions, even consciousness.

That’s no longer the default behaviour, thankfully. But the style of interaction — the eerily natural flow of conversation — remains intact. And that, too, is convincing. Too convincing.

We need to de-anthropomorphise AI. Now. Strip it of its human mask. This should be easy. Companies could remove all reference to emotion, judgement or cognitive processing on the part of the AI. In particular, it should respond factually without ever saying “I”, or “I feel that”… or “I am curious”.

Will it happen? I doubt it. It reminds me of another warning we’ve ignored for over 20 years: “We need to cut CO₂ emissions.” Look where that got us. But we must warn big tech companies of the dangers associated with the humanisation of AIs. They are unlikely to play ball, but they should, especially if they are serious about developing more ethical AIs.

For now, this is what I do (because I too often get this eerie feeling that I am talking to a synthetic human when using ChatGPT or Claude): I instruct my AI not to address me by name. I ask it to call itself AI, to speak in the third person, and to avoid emotional or cognitive terms.

If I am using voice chat, I ask the AI to use a flat prosody and speak a bit like a robot. It is actually quite fun and keeps us both in our comfort zone.

Guillaume Thierry, Professor of Cognitive Neuroscience, Bangor University

Art Among the Olive Trees: Mougins is a Hilltop Haven of French History and Haute Cuisine

La Place de Mougins in the heart of the village is also a highly regarded restaurant in this region famed for its gastronomy. Cover picture and photograph above by Andrea Heinsohn for DAM.

Perched in the Provençal hills above Cannes, the village of Mougins has quietly become one of the French Riviera’s most remarkable cultural enclaves. Long favored by artists and intellectuals, this medieval town blends centuries-old architecture with an unexpectedly modern artistic pulse. With museums devoted to classical antiquities and contemporary women artists, a culinary legacy shaped by world-class chefs, and panoramic views that once inspired Picasso and Churchill alike, it offers a unique experience for travellers seeking more than sun and sand along the Côte d’Azur, writes Jeanne-Marie Cilento. Photography by Andrea Heinsohn 

Scents of lavender and rosemary fill the winding

streets once home to artists Picasso and Picabia.

ONLY a short drive from the cinematic dazzle of the French Riviera, the medieval village of Mougins seems another world away: steeped in ancient history, yet alive with the pulse of creativity. Here, amid the cypress and olive groves, Picasso once sketched at twilight, Francis Picabia painted with surreal abandon and Jean Cocteau wandered the spiraling lanes.

This sun-dappled commune in the French Alpes-Maritimes department is more than just a picturesque village; it has a resonant artistic legacy and has been a place of cultural refuge that once welcomed and still opens its arms to artists, actors and writers. While its roots stretch back to pre-Roman times, it’s the artistic migration of the 20th century that has etched Mougins into the global cultural map.

In 1924, the avant-garde surrealist Francis Picabia was among the first to fall under Mougins' spell. Drawn by the region’s light, space, and tranquil remove from the bustle of Paris, Picabia set up home in the old village, soon drawing an extraordinary constellation of friends and fellow artists into his orbit. Fernand Léger, Paul Éluard, Isadora Duncan, Man Ray, and Jean Cocteau were frequent visitors. Then came Pablo Picasso.

Amid the cypress and olive groves, Picasso once sketched at twilight, Francis Picabia painted with surreal abandon and Jean Cocteau wandered the spiraling lanes

The commanding sculpture of Pablo Picasso,

commemorating his life and work in the town,

From 1961 until 1973, Picasso lived just outside the village at Notre-Dame-de-Vie, a simple farmhouse beside a 12th-century chapel that looks out over forests and valleys. His studio, now the village’s tourist office, was a hub of activity and artistic output. Neighbors still recall the way he moved quietly through the village, seeking inspiration from the Provençal sun and the surrounding hills. 

Today, a giant sculpture commemorates his presence, but in truth, he never left, his spirit inhabits every sun-bleached stone and winding alley. The allure of Mougins also drew stars from haute couture to the silver screen, from Christian Dior and Yves Saint Laurent to Edith Piaf and Catherine Deneuve, who all walked its cobbled lanes.

Mougins' connection to modern art is not merely anecdotal; it is actively preserved and celebrated. The Mougins Museum of Classical Art (MACM) stands as a cornerstone of this cultural identity. With more than 800 pieces spanning the ancient to the contemporary, Graeco-Roman sculptures juxtaposed with works by Chagall, Matisse, Hirst, Cézanne, and of course, Picasso and Picabia, it is a museum that challenges the boundaries between epochs. 

The allure of Mougins drew stars from haute couture to the silver screen, from Christian Dior and Yves Saint Laurent to Catherine Deneuve and Sean Connery

The FAMM museum housed in a traditional building,

is devoted to women artists and is the first in Europe.

The museum is housed in a restored medieval building at the edge of the old village. It is intimate yet rich, organized across four floors that lead the visitor on a journey from Egyptian sarcophagi to neoclassical sketches, culminating in modern and contemporary interpretations of the classical form. The effect is to collapse time, allowing one to see the dialogue between artists across millennia.

Mougins' artistic reinvention continues with the recent opening of FAMM (Femme Artistes du Monde de Mougins) ~ a museum entirely dedicated to the works of women artists. It’s the first of its kind in Europe and already a major cultural landmark. Here, the canvases of Berthe Morisot hang beside the bold self-portraits of Frida Kahlo and contemporary expressions from Tracey Emin and Barbara Hepworth.

With its bright spaces and thoughtfully curated exhibitions, FAMM serves as both a correction and celebration: a platform to reframe the story of art through the eyes and voices of women who, like Picasso and Picabia, sought freedom and inspiration in these hills. It’s a poignant extension of Mougins' legacy as a creative refuge, now offering space for new generations of visionaries.

The village's artistic reinvention continues with the opening of FAMM, a museum dedicated to the works of women artists and the first of its kind in Europe 

Mougin's art scene is not only full of museums

but also, private galleries and public installations.

But the art of Mougins is not confined to its museums. It spills out into the cobblestone streets, into its many private galleries and public installations. Over 20 smaller art galleries are peppered throughout the village, offering everything from abstract sculpture to Provençal landscapes, all nestled within medieval architecture that adds an extra layer of charm.

And then there’s the Mougins Centre of Photography, set in a restored presbytery in the heart of the old village. Its rotating exhibitions highlight the evolving language of contemporary photography, presenting both emerging voices and established names. Just as the MACM draws lines from past to present, this centre ensures that Mougins remains deeply attuned to the shifting pulse of modern visual culture.

Each summer, the village hosts Mougins Monumental, an open-air exhibition of oversized sculptures installed throughout its plazas and hidden corners. This collision of the monumental with the intimate offers visitors a surprise around every corner, art not as something framed and distant, but something to live among.

Mougins Centre of Photography, in a restored presbytery in the heart of the old village, has shows highlighting contemporary photography

Mougins has a lively gastronomic community

of specialty shops and celebrated restaurants. 

If art is the soul of Mougins, then cuisine is its heart. The village’s culinary reputation was established in the 20th century by Roger Vergé, the charismatic chef who brought his “Cuisine du Soleil” to global attention. 

Light, fresh, and rooted in Mediterranean tradition, Vergé’s cooking redefined French gastronomy. His Michelin-starred restaurants, L’Amandier and Le Moulin de Mougins, attracted a star-studded clientele, from Elizabeth Taylor to Sharon Stone. 

Vergé’s influence still flavours the village. L’Amandier remains a landmark, housed in a building that once served as the medieval courthouse for the monks of Saint-Honorat. Today, its windows open to views of pine forests and tiled rooftops, while the kitchen serves dishes that celebrate local ingredients with sun-drenched simplicity. Alain Ducasse, another titan of French cuisine, honed his craft under Vergé here in the 1970s.

If art is the soul of Mougins, then cuisine is its heart. The village’s culinary reputation was established in the 20th century by Roger Vergé, 

To celebrate its culinary history, the town holds

a bi-annual festival that brings the world's greatest

chefs together. 

In honor of this culinary heritage, Mougins created Les Étoiles de Mougins, an international gastronomy festival first held in 2006. The festival brings together world-class chefs for demonstrations, tastings, and debates, turning the entire village into an open-air kitchen every two years. 

Since 2012, Mougins has held the exclusive title of “Ville et Métier d’Art” for gastronomy, a distinction no other French town shares.

While art and food may draw most modern visitors, the stones of Mougins carry the weight of centuries. From its early days as a Ligurian settlement to its medieval fortifications, the village has borne witness to empire and invasion. The town's roots run deep, archaeological finds indicate that the site was first occupied by Ligurian tribes long before the rise of the Roman Empire. 

Over the centuries, the elevated, spiral-shaped design proved a strategic advantage, built to withstand invasion, the medieval village was enclosed by ramparts with three main gates

The soaring 18th century bell-tower 

of the Saint Jaques-le-Majeur church

The Romans eventually established a settlement called Muginum along the ancient Via Aurelia, the road that once connected Rome to Arles. In the 11th century, the land was handed over to the monks of Saint Honorat, who governed the area from the island monastery just off Cannes. The vestiges of this monastic influence remain visible today in the village’s architecture, particularly in the vaulted “Salle des Moines,” now part of a renowned restaurant.

Over the centuries, Mougins’ elevated, spiral-shaped design proved a strategic advantage. Built to withstand invasion, the medieval village was enclosed by ramparts and accessed through three main gates, only one of which, the Porte Sarrazine, remains today. 

Though attacked and partially destroyed during the War of the Austrian Succession, Mougins gradually rebuilt, maintaining much of its circular medieval charm even as new streets were added in the 19th century.

A walk through the village reveals these architectural layers of this history. The Porte Sarrazine still stands as the sentinel of the old spiral-shaped fortress. The narrow streets echo with footsteps from every century, from monks who administered the town for the Abbey of Saint-Honorat to Napoleon himself, who passed through Mougins on his march north from Elba in 1815.

A plaque marks the modest house where Commandant Amédée-François Lamy, the French military figure who would give his name to the Chadian capital (now N’Djamena), was born in 1858. It is one of many small historical markers that lend the village its living yet historic character.

For those who venture beyond the bright lights of Cannes, Mougins offers something rare: a village where art, history, nature, and flavor converge in harmony

The pool of La Réserve by Mougins Luxury Retreats,

which has accommodations throughout the village. 

Mougins' hilltop location isn’t just strategic; it’s spectacular. The view over the Alps is uninterrupted and breathtaking. In the golden light of the late afternoon, the rooftops glow and the valleys turn to velvet.

It’s easy to see why Winston Churchill, a neighbor of Picasso’s, chose to write and paint here, often seated near the chapel of Notre-Dame-de-Vie, where silence reigns and olive trees sway like gentle muses.

Although there is a sense of quiet luxury ~ boutique hotels and curated shops now fill restored buildings ~ the village retains its spirit. It isn’t flashy or overrun. It welcomes, rather than dazzles. It charms rather than overwhelms.

For those who venture beyond the bright lights of Cannes, Mougins offers something rare: a village where art, history, nature, and flavor converge in harmony. 

It is a place where Picasso painted and dined, where Picabia laughed with friends, where sculptures rise from cobbles and perfumes scent the air from pressed flowers. It is a reminder that the Riviera’s soul lies not on the beach, but in the hills above. And in Mougins, that soul still whispers ~ through a shuttered window, from behind a canvas, across a sunlit terrace.

A pretty doorway with a solid

walnut door and stone steps.

Getting There: Mougins is a 15-minute drive from Cannes. The nearest airport is Nice Côte d’Azur, approximately 30 minutes by car.

When to Go: Spring and early autumn are ideal, with warm days and fewer tourists. Visit in June for the Gastronomy Festival or in summer for art events and music festivals.

Don’t Miss:

The Musée d’Art Classique de Mougins (MACM)

The FAMM Museum of Women Artists

A meal at L’Amandier

Sunset at Notre-Dame-de-Vie

Climbing the belltower of the Saint Jaques-le-Majeur church for the spectacular view across Provence to the sea, 

Tip: Take your time. Mougins isn’t a place to rush. It’s a place to wander, to linger, to let the village reveal itself, one spiral street, one delicious bite, one quiet moment at a time.

Often Overlooked, Tudor Art Richly Reflected a Turbulent Century of Growth and Change

Elizabeth I as the Queen of Love and Beauty c.1600 possibly by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger. also known as the Rainbow Portrait. Hatfield House, Hertfordshire, England.  

By Christina Faraday, University of Cambridge

It can sometimes seem like the Tudors are everywhere, at least in Britain: on television, in bookshops and in historic houses and galleries across the country. Yet within the discipline of art history, appreciation for pictures and objects produced in England between 1485 and 1603 has been slow to take hold.

The Embarkation of Henry VIII at Dover by artist

unknown, c. 1520-40 was meant to show the 

military might of the Tudors. Hampton Court

Palace, London. 

For a long time, narratives about the popular impetus behind the Reformation led some historians to believe art was unwelcome in Protestant England, for fear it would inspire people to commit idolatry.

Meanwhile, long-held scholarly prejudices towards easel paintings and sculptures (which, excepting portraits, are few and far between in Tudor England) and against “decorative” arts and household objects, reinforced the notion that the country was practically barren of visual art in the 16th century.

Happily, times are now changing. In the last few years, the period’s beautiful and intriguing artworks have been receiving more attention in mainstream art history, not least in the New York Metropolitan Museum’s 2022 exhibition The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Renaissance England.

Still, to date there has never been a comprehensive introduction to Tudor art aimed at the general public. My new book, The Story of Tudor Art will be the first to unite artworks and contexts across the whole of the “long Tudor century”, looking at the works of famous names like Hans Holbein the Younger and Nicholas Hilliard, but also beyond them, to interior furnishings, fashion and objects by unknown makers.

The book considers art made for the royal court, but also for increasing numbers of “middling” professionals, who embraced art and material objects to mark their new-found status in society.

Rather than appreciating art on purely aesthetic terms, Tudor viewers had practical expectations for the objects they owned and commissioned. Art was primarily a mode of communication, akin to speeches or the written word. Images had an advantage, however, as vision was considered the highest of the senses, exerting the greatest power over the mind.

Henry VIII AT 49 years old, by Hans Holbein

the Younger, 1540. Palazzo Barberini, Rome.

Images could shape the viewer morally – for example, through exposure to long galleries full of portraits of the great and the good, where viewers could learn about them and emulate their virtues. But this shaping was also physical, as with stories of pregnant women who, viewing certain images, were thought to unconsciously shape the foetus in their womb, a phenomenon known as “maternal impression”.

Most casual observers probably recognise Holbein’s magnificent portraits of Henry VIII, and some of Elizabeth I’s many painted personae. But even for aficionados, artworks produced under Henry VII, Edward VI and Mary I remain relatively obscure. 

One of the book’s aims is to draw attention to these overlooked periods, showing that even during the so-called mid-Tudor crisis (when England had four different rulers in just 11 years), art and architecture remained a priority for shaping narratives about individuals and institutions such as the Church.

Henry VII emerges as a canny patron of visual arts, using various means to promote himself in his new role as king of England. Artists looked to legendary characters, ancient and recent, to bolster his tentative claim to the throne.

Popular legends originating in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s (largely fabricated) “British history”, resurface in a genealogical manuscript in the British Library showing Henry VII’s descent from Brutus, the legendary Trojan founder of Britain. This positions Henry as the Welsh messiah destined to rescue Britain from its Saxon invaders.

Architectural patronage at Westminster Abbey in London and King’s College Chapel in Cambridge aligned him with his half-uncle and Lancastrian predecessor, Henry VI. Rumours of miracles had been swirling about him since his probable murder in 1471. Meanwhile, reforms to the coinage included the first accurate royal likeness on English coins, changing the generic face used by his predecessors into a recognisable portrait of Henry VII himself.

The Protestant monarch Edward VI and his regime passed the first official laws against religious images, resulting in the tearing down of religious images and icons in cathedrals and parish churches. But Edward VI’s reign was not only a time of destruction. Under the influence of the two successive leaders of his council, elite patrons began to embrace classical architecture, a development that may relate to Protestant ideas about restoring the church to the time of Christ’s apostles.

Edward’s successor, Mary I, a staunch Catholic, made many attempts to undo the work of her Protestant-minded predecessor, including legislation to restore some church images. Perhaps more significantly, her marriage to Philip II of Spain brought England into closer artistic alignment with continental Europe. This saw a flood of artworks and artists associated with the Habsburg empire enter the country, including the first Titian portrait ever seen in England.

Due to the long neglect of Tudor art in mainstream art history, a vast amount of research remains to be done. Even within the better-studied reigns of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, discoveries are waiting, and whole avenues of cultural and intellectual interpretation are yet to be explored.

Christina Faraday, Research Fellow in History of Art, University of Cambridge

Almost Unimaginable Beauty and Opulence: the Paradise Pleasure Gardens of Ancient Persia

Nine paradise gardens in Iran are collectively listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site, the Eram Garden (pictured above) built in the 12th century is one of the most splendid.  

By Peter Edwell

Some of the most enduring ancient myths in the Persian world were centred around gardens of almost unimaginable beauty and opulence.

The biblical Garden of Eden and the Epic of Gilgamesh’s Garden of the Gods are prominent examples. In these myths, paradise was an opulent garden of tranquillity and abundance.

But how did this concept of paradise originate? And what did these beautiful gardens look and feel like in antiquity?

Pairi-daēza is where we get the word ‘paradise’

The English word “paradise” derives from an old Persian word pairidaeza or pairi-daēza, which translates as “enclosed garden”.

The origins of paradise gardens lie in Mesopotamia and Persia (modern Iraq and Iran).

The Garden of the Gods from the Epic of Gilgamesh from about 2000 BCE is one of the earliest attested in literature.

Some argue it was also the inspiration for the legend of the Garden of Eden in the book of Genesis. In both of these stories, paradise gardens functioned as a type of utopia.

When the Achaemenid kings ruled ancient Persia (550–330 BCE), the development of royal paradise gardens grew significantly. The paradise garden of the Persian king, Cyrus the Great, who ruled around 550 BCE, is the earliest physical example yet discovered.

During his reign, Cyrus built a palace complex at Pasargadae in Persia. The entire complex was adorned with gardens which included canals, bridges, pathways and a large pool.

One of the gardens measured 150 metres by 120 metres (1.8 hectares). Archaeologists found evidence for the garden’s division into four parts, symbolising the four quarters of Cyrus’s vast empire.

Technological wonders

A feature of paradise gardens in Persia was their defiance of often harsh, dry landscapes.

This required ingenuity in supplying large volumes of water required for the gardens. Pasargadae was supplied by a sophisticated hydraulic system, which diverted water from the nearby Pulvar River.

The tradition continued throughout the Achaemenid period. Cyrus the Younger, probably a descendant of Cyrus the Great, had a palace at Sardis (in modern Turkey), which included a paradise garden.

According to the ancient Greek writer, Xenophon, the Spartan general Lysander visited Cyrus at the palace around 407 BCE.

When he walked in the garden, astounded by its intricate design and beauty, Lysander asked who planned it. Cyrus replied that he had designed the garden himself and planted its trees.

Perhaps the ultimate ancient paradise garden was the legendary Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

In one tradition, the gardens were built by the neo-Babylonian King, Nebuchadnezzar II (605–562 BCE).

The gardens were so magnificent and technologically advanced they were later counted among the Seven Wonders of the World.

Perhaps the ultimate ancient paradise garden was the legendary Hanging Gardens of Babylon. mikroman6/Getty Images

In a later Roman account, the Hanging Gardens consisted of vaulted terraces resting on cube-shaped pillars.

Flowing water was a key feature, with elaborate machines raising water from the Euphrates river. Fully grown trees with vast root systems were supported by the terraces.

In another account, the Hanging Gardens were built by a Syrian king for his Persian wife to remind her of her homeland.

When the Sasanian dynasty (224–651 CE) came to power in Persia, its kings also built paradise gardens. The 147-hectare palace of Khosrow II (590–628 CE) at Qasr-e Shirin was almost entirely set in a paradise garden.

The paradise gardens were rich in symbolic significance. Their division into four parts symbolised imperial power, the cardinal directions and the four elements in Zoroastrian lore: air, earth, water and fire.

The gardens also played a religious role, offering a glimpse of what eternity might look like in the afterlife.

They were also a refuge in the midst of a harsh world and unforgiving environments. Gilgamesh sought solace and immortality in the Garden of the Gods following the death of his friend Enkidu.

According to the Bible, God himself walked in the Garden of Eden in the cool of the evening.

But in both cases, disappointment and distress followed.

Gilgamesh discovered the non-existence of immortality. God discovered the sin of Adam and Eve.

Paradise on Earth

The tradition of paradise gardens continued after the Islamic conquest of Persia in the 7th century CE.

The four-part gardens (known as chahar-bagh) of the Persian kingdoms were also a key feature of the Islamic period.

The Garden of Paradise described in the Quran comprised four gardens divided into two pairs. The four-part garden became symbolic of paradise on Earth.

The tradition of paradise gardens has continued in Iran to the present day.

Nine paradise gardens in Iran are collectively listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site. The Eram garden, built in about the 12th century CE, and the 19th-century Bagh-e Shahzadeh are among the most splendid.

Today, the word “paradise” evokes a broader range of images and experiences. It can foster many different images of idyllic physical and spiritual settings.

But the magnificent enclosed gardens of the ancient Persian world still inspire us to imagine what paradise on Earth might look and feel like.

Peter Edwell, Associate Professor in Ancient History, Macquarie University

How Self-Taught, Self-Made Mavericks Vivienne Westwood and Rei Kawakubo Redefined Punk

Rihanna wearing Commes des Garcons by Rai Kawakubo at The Met Gala in 2017. Photograph: Francois Durand/Getty 

By Sasha Grishin

Vivienne Westwood and Rei Kawakubo are two fashion designers who redefined “the look” of fashion on the street from the 1970s onwards.

They were born a year apart in the early 1940s, one in Derbyshire in England, the other in Tokyo in Japan. They were both largely self-taught, self-made mavericks who contributed to, and redefined, the punk scene in the 60s and 70s. Their use of unconventional materials and designs shocked the fashion establishment and helped to establish alternative realities of accepted dress codes.

The great achievement of many revolutionary National Gallery of Victoria exhibitions is the strategy of juxtaposing two vibrant artistic personalities, whereby a new and unexpected reality is created that allows us to establish a fresh perspective.

World’s End, London (fashion house), Vivienne Westwood (designer), Malcolm McLaren (designer), outfit from the Savage collection, spring–summer 1982. Pillar Hall, Olympia, October 22 1981. Photo © Robyn Beeche

Westwood and Kawakubo are household names in the fashion industry. But by bringing them together and clustering their works under five thematic categories, new insights appear.

It is a spectacular selection of over 140 key and signature pieces drawn from the growing holdings of the NGV supplemented with strategic loans from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; The Victoria & Albert Museum, London; Palais Galliera, Paris; the Vivienne Westwood archive; and the National Gallery of Australia, among others.

Punk and provocation

Westwood, subsequently Dame Vivienne Isabel Westwood, initially in collaboration with Malcolm McLaren of Sex Pistols fame, helped to mould and dress the London punk scene.

For her, dress was never ideologically neutral but a lightning rod for social change.

Vivienne Westwood (right) with the model Jordan (Pamela Rooke) and another punk, London, 12 April 1977. Photo © Tim Jenkins / WWD / Penske Media via Getty Images

Pornographic slogans, emblems anchored in fetish practices and sadomasochism, and dresses made of plastics and supplemented with safety pins and chains subverted the comfortable status quo and allowed her fashion sense to penetrate into the middle classes.

What was once outrageous became something daringly respectable.

Kawakubo was born into an academic family and came to fashion design when making her own clothing in the 1960s under the label Comme des Garçons (“like the boys”) in Tokyo.

Conceived as anti-fashion, sober and severe, she made largely monochrome garments – black, dark grey and white – for women, with frayed, unfinished edges, holes and asymmetric shapes.

A men’s line was added in 1978. The number of outlets in Japan grew into the hundreds. Later, her designs established a strong presence in Paris.

The themes that bring the two fashion designers together in this exhibition include the opening section, Punk and Provocation. Both designers drew on the ethos of punk with its desire for change and the rejection of old ways.

Breaking orthodoxies

A second section is termed Rupture for the conscious desire to break with convention, whether it be Westwood’s Nostalgia of Mud collection of 1983 or Kawakubo’s Not Making Clothes collection of 2014.

There is a strongly expressed desire to break with the prevailing orthodoxies.

World’s End, London (fashion house), Vivienne Westwood (designer), Malcolm McLaren (designer) Outfit from the Nostalgia of Mud collection, autumn–winter 1982–83. Pillar Hall, Olympia, London, 24 March 1982. Photo © Robyn Beeche

A third section, Reinvention, hints at a postmodernist predilection of both artists to delve into traditions of art history and from unexpected sources, such as Rococo paintings, revive elements from tailoring traditions, ruffles and frills.

Although both artists are rule breakers, they do not act from a position of ignorance. It is from a detailed, and at times pedantic, knowledge of garments from the past.

Comme des Garçons, Tokyo (fashion house), Rei Kawakubo (designer) Look 2, from the Smaller is Stronger collection, autumn–winter 2025. Paris, 8 March 2025. Image © Comme des Garçons. Model: Mirre Sonders

In the late 1980s, Westwood revived English tweeds and Scottish tartans. Kawakubo drew on the basics of traditional tailoring in menswear and applied it to unorthodox patterns and materials in her garments for women.

The ‘ideal’ body

A fourth section, The Body: Freedom and Restraints, perhaps most problematically challenges the conventions of idealised female beauty and the objectification of the female body.

It is argued in the exhibition that Westwood’s Erotic Zones collection (1995), and Kawakubo’s The Future of Silhouette (2017–18), may be viewed as attempts to redefine the female body.

Sarah Jessica Parker wearing a Vivienne Westwood wedding gown on the set of Sex and the City: The Movie, New York City, October 12 2007. Photo © James Devaney / WireImage via Getty Images

Kawakubo’s Body meets dress-Dress meets body collection, presented in 1996, systematically interrogates boundaries between bodies and garments. Westwood, at a similar time, played with padding and compression in her designs to question the ideals of a sexual, “ideal” body.

The final section of the exhibition is appropriately termed The Power of Clothes. This returns us to the recurring theme of employing fashion to make a statement concerning social change, whether this be the punk revolution or protests connected with climate change.

Installation view of Westwood | Kawakubo on display from 7 December 2025 to 19 April 2026, at NGV International, Melbourne. Vivienne Westwood Look 19, Jacket, shirt, knickers, bum pad, leggings, hat, crop, boots, 1994 and Look 34 Cape, shirt, corset, and boots and hat 1994 and Look 78, Dress, bum pad and shoes, 1994 from the On Liberty collection, 1994-1995. Courtesy of Vivienne Westwood Heritage. Photo: Sean Fennessy

Through their work, both Westwood and Kawakubo argue fashion is a political act and make broader social statements through their garments, particularly women’s wear.

Both fashion designers were prominent polemicists. As quoted in the exhibition, Westwood in 2011 declared,

I can use fashion as a medium to express my ideas to fight for a better world.

Kawakubo is quoted as saying in 2016,

Society needs something new, something with the power to provide stimulus and the drive to move us forward […] Maybe fashion alone is not enough to change our world, but I consider it my mission to keep pushing and to continue to propose new ideas.

This exhibition will be seen as historically significant and it is accompanied with a weighty catalogue. The NGV has established major collections of over 400 pieces of Westwood’s and Kawakubo’s work that lays the foundation for any further serious exploration of fashion from this period anywhere in the world.

Westwood | Kawakubo is at the National Gallery of Victoria until April 19.

Sasha Grishin, Adjunct Professor of Art History, Australian National University

Berlin Fashion Week: Backstage at Dagger Autumn/Winter 2026 Photographed by Jay Zoo