For 72 hours, London’s art scene became one vast, twitching organism. From Mayfair’s white spaces to Peckham’s railway arches dripping with condensation, every gallery door swung open in ragged synchrony. This wasn’t just an open house – it was the city taking its pulse.
Nico Kos Earle stalked these spaces with a critic’s eye and a flâneur’s instincts. What emerged wasn’t a coherent narrative, but something better – London’s art world caught mid-gesture, makeup smudged, arguing with itself about the meaning of life while the bar ran dry. The real exhibition was the city itself.
June 12, 2025
