New documentary Traces Kylie Minogue’s Career, From Harsh Early Critics to Pop Stardom

Portrait of Australian singer and actress Kylie Minogue by Steve Schofield. Her new documentary shows how the media has changed during the pop superstar's career, especially how women and their audiences are treated. Cover picture of Stephane Rolland Haute Couture AW25/26 by Jay Zoo in Paris for DAM.

By Liz Giuffre

Kylie's career is remarkably

enduring and successful.

Netflix’s three-part documentary about Kylie Minogue, Kylie, covers her nearly 40-year career. We go from the release of Minogue’s first self-titled album and time as an actor on Neighbours to the present day with a new single Light Up and preparations for an anniversary tour next year.

Minogue is well represented in this documentary. Her commentary shows her depth of character, understanding and connection as a music professional.

Minogue frames the documentary, sitting in what looks like her archive room, going through boxes of slides and mementos, including a glorious moment with a 1980s boombox which she says “started it all”.

As Adrian Renzo and I found in our book, Kylie, an exploration of her first album, there were different standards applied to Minogue than to her male contemporaries when she began in the industry

‘How would you feel if that was your daughter?’

Minogue and her sister, Dannii, started as children in the Australian music and media industries.Dannii was the first in the family to be a musician via Young Talent Time.

Kylie Minogue appeared as a child actor in shows like The Sullivans and The Henderson Kids. But her star truly arose with her role as Charlene Robinson in soap opera Neighbours. Her ascension in music and television collided in 1987 with her single Locomotion, and the famous wedding of Charlene and Scott (Jason Donovan).

Kylie’s ascension in music and television collided in 1987 with her single Locomotion, and the famous wedding of Charlene and Scott. Netflix

As a musician and actor Minogue received huge commercial success, fuelled by young fans, many who were young girls and queer people. In the documentary she expresses great gratitude for her gay audience, and a shared sense of feeling out of place but still having pride in yourself.

Minogue also received harsh criticism from music industry “experts” who claimed she was too young or too “soapie” to deserve the success she achieved. One radio station launched an active “no Kylie” campaign.

Music industry figures dehumanised her by calling her a “singing budgie”. We found one critic at a major Sydney newspaper who wrote Minogue should get herself “in the path of a descending jumbo”.

The Netflix documentary explores the duality of this period. We see headlines saying “I Hate Her” and “She is Nothing”, edited with archival footage of happy crowds and Minogue on stage. Television archive footage of an unnamed male commentator says of Minogue “you no longer need to be interesting to get to number one, you can just be a sort of human, crocheted scarf”.

“Being 19 years old and having to cop that, that was unpleasant,” Minogue says, reflecting back on that time.

Later in the documentary, Minogue is more direct:

One of the terms used to describe me, the singing budgie, had the human part missing – who decides this is cool? […] What would happen if I met with them and sat face to face with them, and said ‘How would you feel if that was your daughter?’.

The reaction to Minogue at the time was damaging to her as an individual. It served as a reminder to those that loved Minogue – young girls like I was at the time, and young queer people like Adrian was at the time – that were not valued by those in positions of power.

Missing stories

Minogue’s triumph over the subsequent decades has shown those in power have changed.

It is no longer acceptable to target a young woman with suggestions of violence in the press. Those that would dismiss the value of an audience of young women or queer people now clearly would do so at their own cultural and financial risk.

The documentary does still fall into the trap of using Minogue’s male colleagues and relationships as a way of validating her.

Minogue’s influence in the United Kingdom and beyond is underpinned by international songwriter Peter Waterman. As one of the iconic songwriters and producers Stock, Aiken and Waterman (SAW), Waterman shows how Minogue was created as a global pop brand.

Kylie was crafted into a global pop brand. Netflix

Nick Cave tells a large part of the story – worthy, but perhaps a bit uneven given it really was only one single they made together.

Donovan appears early on to discuss the early years, swearing about being overshadowed by her at the time but with no real malice.

It would have been great to hear more from Minogue’s female contemporaries and friends. Dannii Minogue is a regular feature, but others in more prominent spots would have been great.

Another key feature missing from the documentary is the Australian story, and the support provided to her by pioneering Australian record label Mushroom. While its founder Michael Gudinski has since passed away, Amanda Pelman, who signed Minogue to Mushroom, and released her memoir earlier this year, would have been a great addition.

As a documentary, Kylie tracks how the media has changed over the last few decades, especially when it comes to how women and their audiences are treated.

Minogue’s connection to her fans, her family and her work ethic is inspiring, as is her unapologetic celebration of the role pop music plays in making life worth living.

Kylie is now streaming on Netflix.

Liz Giuffre, Associate Professor in Media, University of Technology Sydney

Cannes Film Festival Fashion 2026: Twelve Days of Couture, Chaos and Carefully Curated Spectacle

Bella Hadid wearing Daniel Roseberry's custom Schiaparelli gown inspired by a 1969 Jane Birkin dress, on the red carpet at Cannes. Photograph: Daniele Venturelli/WireImage. Cover picture of Stephane Rolland Haute Couture AW25/26 by Jay Zoo for DAM.

As the flashbulbs faded along the Croisette and the 2026 Cannes Film Festival drew to a close, the red carpet once again proved that cinema’s most glamorous showcase remains as much about fashion mythology as film itself. Over twelve days, Cannes delivered a dizzying procession of couture triumphs, styling disasters, archival references and headline-grabbing spectacle, a reminder that on the Riviera, elegance and excess are always locked in competition, reports Antonio Visconti

Demi Moore wore a striking,

sculptural red gown by Gucci

to the premiere of Fatherland. 

THE strongest looks at this year's Cannes Film Festival succeeded because they understood the essence of Cannes: drama balanced with restraint. That balance became even more significant this year following the festival’s increasingly strict dress code, which discouraged overt nudity and attempted to curb the enormous voluminous gowns that have increasingly turned the Palais staircase into an obstacle course. 

The regulations may have aimed to restore sophistication, but fashion’s appetite for spectacle proved impossible to suppress entirely. Few captured that tension better than Bella Hadid, who emerged in a breathtaking Schiaparelli gown inspired by a 1969 dress worn by Jane Birkin. It was a masterclass in modern nostalgia, sculptural without feeling theatrical, sensual without tipping into costume. The look recalled old Cannes glamour while still feeling sharply contemporary, reaffirming Hadid’s status as one of the few celebrities capable of turning archival fashion into a living conversation.

Demi Moore also dominated the festival, though not always successfully. Her crimson Gucci column gown designed by Demna Gvasalia was among the strongest moments on this year’s carpet: sleek, severe and commanding without overworking the silhouette. Yet Moore also delivered one of Cannes’ strangest and most divisive fashion moments in an oversized fluorescent pink gown by avant-garde label Matières Fécales. The partially disintegrated, almost melting construction was impossible to ignore — attention-grabbing yet oddly fairy-floss sweet, hovering somewhere between couture experiment and surreal performance art. It perfectly embodied Cannes’ ongoing battle between disciplined elegance and fashion spectacle. 

Cannes has never been about safe dressing: it is fashion at its most exposed, occasionally ridiculous, sometimes magnificent, and impossible to ignore

Sharon Stone shines in a strapless

 column dress by South Korean, 

London-based Miss Sohee. 

Veteran stars were often the most convincing. Sharon Stone delivered one of the festival’s great surprises in a striking couture gown from Miss Sohee's Spring/Summer 2026 collection, proving once again that confidence and presence can elevate even the most dramatic silhouette. 

Equally memorable was the Marchioness of Bath, whose diaphanous, romantic gown by Carloline's Couture offered a welcome reminder that understated aristocratic glamour still has a place amid Cannes’ increasingly algorithm-driven spectacle.

But for every triumph, there was a cautionary tale. Heidi Klum struggled in a peach draped gown by Elie Saab that overwhelmed rather than flattered. The colour drained her presence, while the heavy folds created a strangely unfinished effect under the harsh Riviera lights.

Alex Chung, usually dependable in understated tailoring, misfired in a limp silk Dior top that felt more backstage than black tie. Marion Cotillard fared little better in an oversized, badly-fitting Chanel gown that appeared shapeless and disconnected from the elegance Cannes traditionally rewards. 

Likewise, Alicia Vikander disappeared into an underwhelming sleeveless white Louis Vuitton gown that felt more awards-luncheon than international film festival. Among the menswear disappointments, Lucas Bravo suffered from poor proportions in a heavy navy suit paired awkwardly with a maroon shirt, while even the usually immaculate Gillian Anderson was let down by a stark white Miu Miu gown whose thick straps and rigid structure dulled her natural elegance. 

The film festival red-carpet style is caught between timeless glamour and the relentless pressure to go viral 

French actor Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu

wore a blousy SS26 Saint Laurent

design by Anthony Vaccarello.

Demi Moore’s semi-transparent mauve gown later in the festival, however, lacked the refinement of her stronger appearances, veering unexpectedly into something closer to fast-fashion than Riviera sophistication.

Perhaps the most divisive appearance belonged to Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu, the thorny PR boss in Emily in Paris. Her voluminous purple gown threatened to consume her slight frame entirely and clashed badly with the red carpet, edging close to parody and precisely the kind of exaggerated silhouette festival organisers were attempting to discourage.

And that was Cannes 2026 in miniature: a festival caught between timeless glamour and the relentless pressure to go viral. 

At its best, the fashion celebrated craftsmanship, personality and cinematic grandeur. At its worst, it became a competition for attention. Yet even the failures played their role. Cannes has never been about safe dressing. It is fashion at its most exposed, occasionally ridiculous, sometimes magnificent, and hard to ignore. 

Below see the Hits and Misses from the Red Carpet at the Cannes International Film Festival 

HIT: Lady Emma Thynn, the Marchioness of Bath, looking elegantly at ease in this diaphanous gown by Caroline's Couture, the high fashion label of Caroline Scheufele, the artistic director and co-president of Chopard who created the emerald and diamond necklace.

MISS: American actor Gillian Anderson wearing a Miu Miu white column dress with bulky shoulder straps that looks like the ill-fitting top of a glittery bathing suit. The loose pony-tail also looks too casual for the red carpet.

HIT: Demi Moore's oversized ballgown in a fluorescent pink by Rose Dalton and Steven Raj of Matieres Fecales test Canne's rules but fitted the actor like a glove at the waist and the seemingly disintegrating bow and hem added an element of avant-garde drama to one-dimensional celebrity dressing. 

 

MISS: German actor Diane Kruger's Givenchy ensemble by Sarah Burton is an awkward mix of a short, floral embroidered dress with an emerald, green satin cape that looked chaotic and unflattering, including the matching shoes.

HIT: Ruth Negga, the Oscar-nominated Ethiopian Irish actor, wears a sleek, custom-design AMI Paris tuxedo designed by founder Alexandre Mattiussi. 

MISS: French actor Marion Cottillard wears a badly fitting and unattractive leather, drop-waist dress with raffia skirt by Mathieu Blazy for Chanel. This was part of his debut Chanel Cruise 2026/27 collection which he unveiled in Biarritz two weeks before the Cannes Film Festival.

HIT: Actor Aja Naomi King wears a custom. white-crystal embroidered macrame gown by Miu Miu that looks both fresh and glamourous on the red carpet. 

MISS: British Alexa Chung wears another unappealing red-carpet gown that Joantahn Anderson of Dior designed. The ice-blue satin bodice looks baggy and falls into a black bow above a sheer, navy embroidered skirt; rather than looking like a cohesive whole it looks like disparate parts. 

HIT: Model Ikram Abdi Omar looks stylish and in a beautifully-cut, long-sleeved Stella McCartney gown in white with a matching hijab. 

MISS: The draping on Heidi Klum's Elie Saab strapless gown from the Autumn/Winter 2025-26 collection is knotted unflatteringly at the waist but the pale peach hues wash out the German presenter and the large, central flower on the bodice looks like gilding an already overdone lily.

HIT: British actor Poppy Delevingne looks elegant in a vintage 2007 Autumn/Winter 2007 velvet gown, The archival piece features intricate lace details and is worn with Chopard jewels.

MISS: Luxembourgish German actor Vicky Krieps wore a bulky and unflattering black and white Bottega Veneta asymmetrical ensemble, from the label's Autumn/Winter 2026 collection.

HIT: American professional kiteboarder and actor, Maika Monroe wore an Ashi Studio Couture gown designed to look like molten silver and constructed from thousands of hand-embroidered tiny, metallic sequins on a lightweight mesh.  

MISS: Halsey looking like an elaborate Christmas bauble, donned a custom Vivienne Westwood couture gown designed by Andreas Kronthaler. The corseted gold and black Chantilly lace plus the heavy, dangling beadwork overwhelmed the American singer and songwriter. 

HIT: Sara Sampaio in a delicate and romantic dress with a structured bodice and pleated chiffon embroidered with shimmering crystals and mother of pearl details. The Portuguese model and actor chose the custom Miu Miu creation for its voluminous skirt of layered, frothy tulle. 

MISS: Alicia Vikander wore a minimal, low-key Louis Vuitton dress in a drab shade that looked like a sporty top with chiffon arches below. It didn't do much for the Swedish actor and looked too plain for a major Cannes premiere.

HIT: Jane Fonda appeared at the Cannes Film Festival's opening ceremony in a sophisticated custom Gucci gown that shimmered with black sequins and hugged her figure with a high neck and well-defined shoulders. 

MISS: British actor Tilda Swinton has an avant-garde signature style but her Chanel Haute Couture Spring 2026 silk-velvet ensemble by Matthieu Blazy, looked ill-fitting and unappealing, despite the designer's saying the design was inspired by Japanese Haiku poetry about the flight of a bird. 

HIT: Cate Blanchett's Givenchy Autumn/Winter 2026 gown by Sarah Burton who says she was inspired by artist Olan Ventura's work which harks back to the Dutch Old Masters. The floral embroidery uses a stain stich technique that gives the petals a lively sheen. 

MISS: Caral Bruni's graphic Zebra motif stood out on the red carpet but competed with her subtle hair and make-up and in the end wore her. The floor-length custom Roberto Cavalli mermaid gown was designed by Fausto Puglisi with a plunging neckline and velvet detailing. 

Six Tech‑Free Ideas from History for Designing Your Garden Without Turning to AI

Claude Monet's garden at Vetheuil in 1881 where he landscaped the terraces that ran down to the Seine and planted the sunflowers and placed his own blue and white pots. His young son stands on the sun-dappled steps. National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C. 

By Camilla Allen

Three gardens at the 2026 RHS Chelsea Flower Show have found themselves mired in controversy rather than the more usual mud. This year’s show gardens include one designed by Matt Keightley, who has used Spacelift, a design app he developed that incorporates AI. Advocates of such tools praise their potential to democratise garden design and make it more accessible. Critics, however, argue that these technologies risk reproducing or appropriating existing designs, and could ultimately threaten the livelihoods of professional garden designers.

Happily, gardening is an ancient practice and has long been managed and enjoyed without the use of technology. Here are six tech-free lessons from history to help you get started designing your garden without turning to AI.

1. Get back to books

Not sure where to start? A book is still one of the richest sources of guidance, and the history of gardening bestsellers offers a revealing window into changing tastes, practices and traditions.

This list of the 20 most popular titles for American public libraries suggests that food growing, biodiversity and design are key interests for budding gardeners.

Two Girls Reading in Sunlit Garden by Laura Knight (1910). Danum Gallery, Library and Museum

And it’s not just books from today that have something to offer. I’d recommend travelling back to the 17th century with diarist and polymath John Evelyn. His Elysium Britannicum, written in the 1650s, records a deep fascination with nature and design, showing that ingenuity and gardening have long gone hand in hand.

2. Go for a walk and imagine what is possible

The landscape painter and designer William Kent is said to have “leapt the fence and [seen] that all nature was a garden”. This moment is often taken to mark the shift away from the formal aristocratic gardens of the 17th century towards a more naturalistic style.

This philosophical turn helped shape the development of the English landscape garden, but it can also speak to the present moment, when we are being encouraged to make our own gardens – most of which are not landscape-scale – more welcoming to nature.

One of the simplest ways to begin is to look closely at your surroundings: explore your neighbourhood, observe what thrives and take note of what you like and what works well.

3. Consult the genius loci and start with the bones

Old Scott, the Gardener by Robert Lillie (1867). Lillie Art Gallery

Cartoonist Osbert Lancaster and his wife Anne Scott-James lightly ribbed 20th-century suburban gardens in their 1977 book The Pleasure Garden: An Illustrated History of British Gardening. Post-second world war urbanisation gave many more people the opportunity to have their own gardens, reflected in a kind of “consistent inconsistency” of patios, lawns, borders and vegetable plots.

The eclecticism they observed can instead be read as an invitation to consult the genius loci – the “spirit of the place” – and to engage with the features and atmosphere that give a garden its character, rather than treating it as a blank slate.

Indeed, in her 1971 book Down to Earth, Anne Scott-James recognised that most gardeners do not have perfect sites. Working with “the bones” of a garden, she argued, is therefore essential, achieved through creating harmony within the broader context.

4. Follow the rules and put things in perspective

There are plenty of principles and approaches that can be applied to garden design, from formal symmetry and a carefully chosen material palette to planting styles that range from sculpted topiary to naturalistic meadow.

Beginning with an aspiration can help to focus these choices, and looking at what has constituted garden design through the ages through the ages can be a useful way of anchoring your own vision.

5. Visit gardens

In 2027 the National Garden Scheme will be 100 years old. It represents a wonderful continuum of curiosity and conviviality as members of the public gain access to otherwise private gardens.

Lady Barber in Her Rock Garden by Nestor Cambier (1916). The Barber Institute of Fine Arts, CC BY-NC

The scheme was set up by Elsie Wagg, a council member of the Queen’s Nursing Institute and has subsequently evolved into an organisation that funds a range of health charities.

Being able to see what other gardeners have achieved – and the effort that has gone into making those spaces – is one of the most effective tech-free ways of learning. Taking a camera or sketchbook can be a simple way to observe more closely and carry those ideas back into your own garden.

6. Gardening is technology

The Reaper by Ralph Hedley (1900). Pannett Art Gallery, CC BY

When economic historian Roderick Floud turned his attention to the history of gardening in An Economic History of the English Garden (2019), he revealed the scale and long-term economic impact of the sector.

Did you know that many innovations in central heating, water engineering and glasshouse construction have their roots in gardens? It’s a point many people may not be aware of, making it a useful story to share when showing visitors around your dahlias – while also quietly recognising that technology has always been embedded in gardening, even when we don’t immediately see it.

Camilla Allen, Lecturer in Landscape Architecture, University of Sheffield

Eurovision 2026: A Win for Bulgaria, Fourth for Australia, and Continued Controversy for Broadcasters

Delta Goodrem represented Australia in the grand final of the 70th Eurovision song contest at Wiener Stadthalle in Vienna, Austria, with the powerful ballad 'Eclipse'. Photograph: Christian Bruna/Getty Images. Cover picture of Yuima Nakazato Haute Couture SS26 by Andrea Heinsohn in Paris for DAM. 

By Jess Carniel

In a surprising turn of events, Bulgaria have taken home the crystal microphone trophy for the Eurovision Song Contest 2026 with Dara’s infectious dance hit Bangaranga.

It is Bulgaria’s first-ever win and all the more poignant given this year marked the country’s return to the contest after a three-year hiatus as its public broadcaster, BNT, has grappled with financial contraints.

Hosting Eurovision in 2027, while expensive, is expected to provide a welcome tourism economic boost.

Bulgaria’s win is the first time since 2017 the jury and public sentiments have been aligned. One tense moment during the voting saw Israel rise to first place thanks to the public vote, resulting in audible booing in the arena. However, Dara soared to the top of the board with 312 public votes to add to their 204 jury votes.

Bulgaria’s total of 516 points put it 173 points ahead of runner-up Israel, in the largest gap between first and second place in the contest’s history.

The bookmakers’ odds tipped Finland to win with Linda Lampenius x Pete Parkonnen’s duet of vocals and live violin, Liekinheitin. The fan favourites instead landed in sixth place.

Live instruments are not usually permitted on the Eurovision stage unless a case can be made that they are integral to the song’s artistry: it was argued successfully the violin was Lampenius’ “voice”.

Romania’s Choke Me by Alexandra Căpitănescu was another surprise favourite. Although she only gained 64 jury points, she came second in the popular vote (262 points) and third overall. It is the best outcome for a female-led rock act in the contest’s history.

In the lead-up to the contest, the song attracted some controversy, alleged to be “glamourising sexual strangulation”. In response, Căpitănescu stated, “The lyrics are about taking back control over anxiety and emotions that are choking you.”

Total eclipse of the heart

Australia’s entry was hyped by many as a potential winner. Even notorious Australia sceptic Graham Norton named Delta Goodrem’s Eclipse the one to beat.

Goodrem dazzled with Australia’s most ambitious staging since Kate Miller-Heidke’s 2019 performance. Dressed in a gown adorned with 7,000 Swarovski crystals, Australia’s golden girl was literally placed on a pedestal that ascended from a golden piano as she reached her vocal crescendo.

Australia placed second in the jury votes and ninth in the public votes to land fourth place. It is Australia’s second-best result, after Dami Im’s astounding second place in 2016.

Goodrem’s participation was partly funded by an Australian federal grant for international cultural diplomacy. Other recipients in the recent round include BlakDance Australia’s tour of the United Kingdom and Creative Australia’s support for Khaled Sabsabi’s Venice Biennale exhibit.

Goodrem’s funding underscores Eurovision’s usefulness for Australia’s cultural diplomacy and projection of “soft power”.

The inaugural edition of Eurovision Asia will be held in Thailand in November. Australia is not participating – the rules prohibit participating in both contests.

It remains to be seen whether Australia will stay in the original Eurovision or whether it will transition to Eurovision Asia in pursuit of regional diplomatic interests.

Broadcasters boycott

This year, Eurovision celebrated its 70th anniversary. But rather than uniting Europe (and Australia) through music, the absence of five regular participants indicated disunity.

Public broadcasters for Slovenia, Iceland, Ireland, Spain and the Netherlands withdrew from competition in protest of the humanitarian situation in Gaza and the European Broadcasting Union’s failure to have an open discussion and vote on Israel’s continued participation. While the contest claims to be non-political, critics point to the exclusion of Russia in 2022 after its invasion of Ukraine as a precedent.

Their absence is a blow to the European Broadcasting Union, financially and symbolically. Spain is usually one of the so-called “Big Five” – the five largest financial contributors to Eurovision. The Netherlands is also a large financial contributor but, more importantly, had been in the contest since the beginning in 1956.

The Dutch public broadcaster stated “participation cannot be reconciled with the public values that are fundamental to our organisation”. They cited humanity, press freedom and political interference as key reasons for their withdrawal.

Broadcasters have also expressed concerns that Israel had attempted to manipulate public voting in other countries over the past two years. Slovenia led the call for a detailed report on the 2024 and 2025 voting results, but member broadcasters received only a summary of its findings.

Eurovision’s Executive Supervisor Martin Green stated the contest organisers were confident the 2025 contest yielded a “valid and robust result”.

Despite this claim, before the 2026 contest broadcasters voted on a rule change seeking to mitigate third-party campaigning and interference in the voting process. As reported by the New York Times, the disparity between the statements of the executives and the resulting vote from the broadcasters raised much scepticism.

A reckoning in 2027?

Just before the 2026 grand final, Belgium’s Flemish broadcaster VRT released a statement they would be unlikely to participate in 2027 without “a clear framework for participation, an open debate, and a direct vote among [union] members”.

The European Broadcasting Union must take broadcasters’ concerns more seriously or risk losing more participants and reputational damage. Its members are seeing a gap between their values as public broadcasters and those expressed by the EBU through its actions and decisions.

Without change, this global phenomenon may also risk not seeing its next milestone anniversary.

Jess Carniel, Associate Professor in Humanities, University of Southern Queensland

Michaelina Wautier: An astoundingly Skilled Painter Returned to Her Rightful Place in the Spotlight

Flemish painter Michaelina Wautier's expressive "Self-Portrait with Easel" from the 1640s. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. Cover picture of the artist's "Two Girls as Saint Agnes and Saint Dorothea," (1643-59). Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp. 

By Gabriele Neher

The first modern mention of the Flemish painter Michaelina Wautier (1614–1689) introduces an artist who defies expectation. Referring to her monumental Triumph of Bacchus (1655–59), Gustav Glück, the first art historian to serve as curator of Vienna’s Kunsthistorisches Museum, wrote in 1903 that “even in an age of female emancipation, one would hardly wish to ascribe this picture, which shows a highly vigorous, almost coarse conception, to a woman’s hand”.

The Triumph of Bacchus by Michaelina Wautier

(1655-59) Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

And thereby hangs the achievement of Wautier: she may have been able to paint “like a man”, but in most of her works, she does not feel the need to do so. Instead, Michaelina Wautier emerges as an artist with a distinctive style of her own.

The Royal Academy of Arts (RA) in London is currently host to the most complete representation of her work to date. It is a landmark exhibition that reintroduces an artist who in her day was highly successful and championed by the court and elite in Brussels; but, who subsequently almost disappeared from public and scholarly notice for close on 300 years.

Restoring Wautier to a place in the artistic canon through an exhibition in the Royal Academy of Arts seems especially apt for an artist who defies expectation. The RA was the first institution to provide professional training for artists in Britain. Wautier’s work and the RA’s presentation of it shows clear evidence of the sort of training that was at the time the exclusive prerogative of male artists.

The point on her training is made straight away through the image that opens the show, a graceful and confident Study of the Medici Ganymede Bust (1654). The drawing depicts the famous ancient Roman sculpture, which was at the time in Rome. Drawing competently was a much valued skill and the Ganymede suggests not only a meticulously trained artist, but one whose work is up-to-date and reflects contemporary trends.

Wautier's genre painting titled 'Elk zijn meug'

from the mid-1600s. The Phoebus Foundation.

Many will be questioning where she sits in relation to the titan of Baroque painting and her contemporary, Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1654) – the favourite subject of feminist art history. Both women disappear from view after the 1650s, both worked with close relatives (Wautier with her brother, Gentileschi with her father), both were championed by high-ranking patrons. But this is where the similarities end.

Gentileschi’s violent personal history has often overshadowed the discussion of her consummate skill and mastery of her craft. For instance, works like the Beheading of Holofernes (1612) are frequently interpreted as responses to her experience of sexual violence.

In Wautier’s case, however, there just isn’t much known about her life beyond bare facts such as who her parents were, that she shared a studio with her brother in Brussels and that she never married. This lack of information is partially due to the artist’s will going up in the flames of the French bombardment of Brussels in 1695.

So where for Gentileschi it feels as if we can’t separate the art from the biography; in Wautier’s case, there is nothing but the art. And, what wonderful art it is too.

The artist's 'Portrait of a Commander in the 

Spanish Army,' 1646. Royal Museums of

 Fine Arts of Belgium.

Wautier excelled in portraiture, with her elegant palette and her mastery of textures – be it hair or textiles. In her portraits, especially in the depiction of children, she is vivacious and lively and so observant of quirks and foibles. You can see this in her Five Senses (1650) series. For instance, Smell features a little blond boy clutching a rotten egg in one hand and pinching his nose shut with the other, recoiling from the egg’s stench.

Despite their brilliance, however, she never signed her portraits. She did, however, sign two large-scale religious paintings, a Mystic Marriage of Saint Catherine of Alexandria and an intriguing and unusual panel depicting the Education of the Virgin. Both panels centre on educated, confident, elegant female protagonists, defined by their actions.

These paintings defy contemporary ideas that women artists excelled at imitation but lacked the capacity to imagine and create a subject from scratch. Wautier signs these paintings “invenit et fecit”, which translates as “invented and executed”. Here she is staking her claim to possessing the imagination to execute significant work at large scale. She attests to be a master of her craft, and this is nowhere more apparent than in the centrepiece of the Royal Academy’s exhibition, her immense Triumph of Bacchus.

Here, Wautier tackles the epitome of artistic mastery: a large-scale mythological subject that featured in the work of her most significant contemporaries, such as Andrea Mantegna, Titian and of course the artist who dominated the market in Flanders and the Netherlands, Peter Paul Rubens.

Wautier’s Triumph of Bacchus is larger than that of her male competitors, and she combines in her image the fleshiness of the central male nude with the grace and the elegance of Titian. She presents the viewer with a powerful image of a flabby Bacchus reclining in a wheelbarrow, surrounded by his followers. Wautier’s skill in painting a variety of male nudes in a range of poses looks effortlessly competent, with the Bacchus becoming the work that firmly places her within art history, a masterpiece designed to defy the challenge that a woman can not paint like a man.

This one can, but she takes the challenge up a notch with the intriguing inclusion of a self portrait. Wautier depicts herself as an elegant, bare-breasted Bacchante, a female follower of Bacchus, clad in a striking robe of salmon-pink, looking out at the viewer, the only person to do so in the array of figures depicted. Wautier’s Bacchante stands tall and proud, inviting the viewer to look at her. But it’s Wautier who controls this gaze; in the painting, a sallow-skinned faun attempts to grab the Amazonian, composed woman. She shrugs off his leering, and ignores him grabbing her hair. She is in charge.

Michaelina Wautier is on at The Royal Academy in London until June 21, 2026

Gabriele Neher, Associate Professor in History of Art, University of Nottingham

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

Stuck in a Creativity Slump at Work? Here are Some Surprising Ways to Get Your Spark Back

Research indicates that if you want to be consistently creative, it is important to break away from the things that helped you achieve creative success in the past. 

By Poornika Ananth, University of Bath

The latest entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s movie slate, Captain America: Brave New World, arrived earlier this year with the hopes of continuing the legacy of the beloved sub-franchise. But the film struggled to hit the heights of the three earlier instalments. Critics hit out at its messy plot, unremarkable characters, tired visuals – and an overall absence of creativity.

This raises an interesting and broader question about creativity at work. Most advice on this focuses on having one creative idea. But what does it take to stay creative over time? After all, creativity at work isn’t just about having great ideas – it’s about having them consistently.

Yet over time, even the most innovative minds and organisations like the Marvel Cinematic Universe can hit a creative slump that they struggle to recover from.

Long-term creativity is often hindered by two broad factors. The first is the “expertise trap”. Expertise can initially be great for creativity. After all, as a person develops greater knowledge and skills, they can combine different elements of that knowledge to develop unique ideas and solutions to problems.

Over time however, expertise can actually limit flexibility and creativity. When people become exceptionally skilled or knowledgeable in a particular field, they tend to experience “cognitive entrenchment”, a fixation where deeply ingrained knowledge of a topic leads to rigid ways of thinking.

This might work well in familiar situations, but it can also make it harder for people to see things in a new light.

The second factor is the “success trap”. Research suggests that success – and receiving recognition for a creative idea or outcome – can affect creativity in unexpected ways.

Creative success can motivate people to come up with more ideas, increasing the quantity and pace of their output. But on the other hand, it can also encourage creators to focus on the things that worked well in the past. They often try to replicate or tweak them instead of coming up with something genuinely new.

Of course all is not lost. There are inspiring examples of people and organisations who break out of a creative slump. Taylor Swift faced being pigeonholed after her initial country-pop success, but came back even stronger with her shift to synth-pop in 2014.

It’s hard to believe Danish firm LEGO ever struggled – but it built back better. olrat/Shutterstock

And Danish firm LEGO, which was on the brink of bankruptcy in 2003, regained its supremacy in the toy sector by coming up with new ways of making their core products – LEGO bricks – popular again. This even included taking the creative leap into movies based on their bricks.

Get your creative spark back

Research indicates that if you want to be consistently creative, it is important to break away from the things that helped you achieve creative success in the past.

This can mean moving away from familiar environments as your career advances. Or it could be adding to your knowledge sources so that you are not merely reliant on the depth of your knowledge but also on the breadth. You may also benefit from collaborating with people who already have that additional knowledge so you can combine your brainpower.

Second, if you have had a recent success this can often come with expectations to replicate it and chase more opportunities. While this may have some short-term benefits, in the long run insulating yourself from those expectations – and the rapid increase in opportunities – can give you the time and space to come up with new ideas instead of retreading old ground.

My own research suggests that sustaining creativity over time is not just about generating ideas repeatedly, it is also about managing a portfolio of developing ideas. This is a better approach than merely focusing on one central idea.

It involves putting aside (or stockpiling) ideas that have limited use or value right now and turning your attention to other ideas in the portfolio. Stockpiled ideas can exist and develop in the background, but you can return to them in the future and use them flexibly to learn from, seek inspiration or develop new projects.

For people who work in the knowledge economy, ideas can be their primary currency. But beyond that, creativity can also improve wellbeing and so is a fundamental part of being human. By following these tips to reignite your creative spark, you can reap those benefits of continued creativity over a long period of time.

Poornika Ananth, Assistant Professor in Strategy and Organisations, School of Management, University of Bath