OCTOBER 2024

This month, we profile contemporary artist Julie Meritu, explore Social Connections and Happiness, and go fly fishing.

Julie Mehretu: The Architect of Abstraction

In the rarefied world of contemporary art, few names resonate with the gravity of Julie Mehretu. Her works, simultaneously chaotic and deeply ordered, evoke the dizzying complexity of modern existence. Born in Addis Ababa in 1970, Mehretu emigrated to the United States at the age of seven, a journey emblematic of the themes of migration and displacement that would later underpin much of her oeuvre. Today, she stands at the zenith of global art, celebrated not only for the intricacy of her large-scale abstract canvases but also for the rich, conceptual layers embedded within them.

Walking into one of Mehretu’s exhibitions feels akin to entering a dynamic ecosystem. Her paintings pulse with life, brimming with lines, dots, and washes of color that overlap and intersect, creating a visceral sense of movement. They are maps, but not of cities or continents—they are maps of humanity, of power, and of conflict. Her work reflects the tension between construction and destruction, the forces that shape not just physical spaces, but social, political, and historical ones.

Take, for example, her monumental piece, “Stadia II” (2004), which evokes the swirling energy of sports stadiums, political rallies, and global spectacles. It’s an image of global convergence—places where cultures collide, sometimes violently, in pursuit of identity and domination. The enormity of her canvases invites viewers to step closer, to get lost in the maelstrom of geometric shapes, as if attempting to decode the layers of meaning buried within.

In her latest body of work, showcased in the 2023 exhibition “They departed for their own country another way (a 9x9x9 hauntology)” at London’s White Cube, Mehretu tackled some of the most significant events of our time, including the war in Ukraine and the January 6 U.S. Capitol insurrection. These paintings, rendered in her signature calligraphic abstraction, often start with images sourced from contemporary media, which are then digitally manipulated, blurred, and layered into near-obscurity. The result is a haunting portrayal of a world in flux, one where meaning itself seems to shift and dissolve under the weight of history​.

While Mehretu’s abstract, almost ethereal compositions may seem detached from the chaos of the world, they are, in fact, deeply rooted in the events that shape it. This was particularly evident in her 2024 exhibition “Ensemble” at the Palazzo Grassi in Venice, the largest European retrospective of her work to date. Here, Mehretu invited her closest friends—artists like Nairy Baghramian and David Hammons—to join her in what became a conversation between abstraction, sculpture, and sound.

Her pieces from the 2000s, laden with dynamic architectural forms, are juxtaposed against her later works, where the frenetic energy seems to dissipate into something quieter, more introspective. These recent works are notable for their subtle engagement with the tragedies of our time—the Syrian civil war, California wildfires, and the COVID-19 pandemic—all transformed into abstract gestures that hint at the collective trauma beneath​.

Despite the vast social and political issues she addresses, Mehretu’s art is marked by an intentional ambiguity. It is this tension—between the recognizable and the abstract—that gives her work its profound emotional and intellectual resonance. “I want my work to evoke a sense of potentiality and that which is not yet knowable,” she once said. This sense of possibility, of something being just out of reach, is what makes her paintings so compelling​.

Her ability to weave together these disparate elements—history, politics, architecture, and abstraction—has earned Mehretu a rarefied place in the art world. From her early days at the Rhode Island School of Design to her exhibitions at some of the most prestigious galleries and museums in the world, Mehretu has remained committed to pushing the boundaries of what art can communicate. And in a world increasingly dominated by instant gratification and rapid consumption, her art demands something more—contemplation, engagement, and, most importantly, reflection.

One of Mehretu’s most recent projects—her collaboration with BMW—offered a new dimension to her already formidable repertoire. As the 20th artist to design a BMW Art Car, Mehretu transformed a race car into a mobile canvas, melding her abstract forms with the sleek lines of the BMW M Hybrid V8. Her vision was to take the viewer beyond the traditional boundaries of painting and into the kinetic energy of motorsport—a fitting metaphor for her art, which often feels like it’s in constant motion​.

The car, like her paintings, is a testament to her obsession with space, speed, and transformation. And yet, even in this radically different medium, Mehretu’s work remains unmistakable. The swirling layers of color and abstract markings on the car seem to propel it forward, as if the vehicle itself were caught in the vortex of one of her canvases. It’s a perfect encapsulation of Mehretu’s career—constantly evolving, always pushing forward, yet firmly anchored in her unique vision of the world.

As Mehretu’s influence continues to expand, her work remains as relevant as ever. Her pieces do more than depict the world—they interrogate it, peeling back the layers to reveal the systems and structures that govern our lives. Whether through the frenetic energy of her early architectural compositions or the more introspective, layered canvases of her recent work, Julie Mehretu challenges us to rethink how we see the world.

Her art is a reminder that, even in abstraction, there is meaning—sometimes hidden, often complex, but always present. And in an age where the lines between truth and fiction, reality and perception, seem to blur more with each passing day, Mehretu’s work feels especially vital, offering a space to reflect, to question, and ultimately, to imagine new possibilities.

The Dance of Line and Water: A Journey Through Fly Fishing

Fly fishing is more than just a sport; it’s a delicate balance between nature, skill, and artistry—a dance between line and water, with the angler as both observer and participant. Whether you’re a seasoned expert or someone new to the allure of casting a fly on a quiet stream, this journey through fly fishing’s history, thrill, hidden spots, and artistry is for you.

Fly fishing dates back nearly two millennia to Macedonia, where rudimentary fly patterns were used to catch river fish. However, it was in England, around the 15th century, the sport as we know it today began to evolve. Dame Juliana Berners, often credited as the mother of fly fishing, wrote one of the earliest pieces on the subject in The Treatise of Fishing with an Angle (1496), setting the stage for the sport’s future in literature.

However, the true icon of fly fishing is Izaak Walton, whose The Compleat Angler (1653) remains one of the most famous works ever written on the sport. His observations about nature, water, and fish still resonate today. Many modern flies are inspired by the designs mentioned in Walton’s era—an Easter egg for those in the know, keeping the connection between tradition and modernity alive.

By the 19th and 20th centuries, fly fishing had crossed the Atlantic, gaining popularity in the U.S., where rivers like Montana’s Madison and New York’s Catskills became legendary. Today, fly fishing continues to evolve, with new techniques and gear—but the spirit of the sport remains timeless.

The allure of fly fishing isn’t just in the catch; it’s in the cast—the perfect symphony of movement, timing, and tension. As you whip the line overhead, you feel the weight transfer from your arm into the rod, the line unrolling in a smooth arc before falling softly on the water’s surface. The thrill isn’t in the number of fish caught but in the mastery of the cast, the communion with nature, and the quiet moments of anticipation.

Mastering fly fishing requires patience, and there’s nothing quite like the feeling of finally nailing that tricky double haul—adding a burst of speed and distance to your cast in a way that separates the weekend warriors from seasoned anglers. Those in the know understand that this technique can be a game-changer on windy days or when targeting fish far from shore.

But beyond the technical, fly fishing offers an experience unlike any other—standing waist-deep in a clear, fast-moving river as the sun rises, mist swirling off the water, knowing that at any moment, a trout may rise to the surface to snatch your fly. It’s a meditative dance punctuated by sudden moments of exhilaration.

The world holds some stunning, lesser-known locations for those exploring fly fishing beyond the familiar. Montana’s Gallatin River and Scotland’s River Tay are well-known for their trout and salmon, but let’s dive into a few hidden gems.

• Slovenia’s Soča River offers an ethereal fly fishing experience. Its emerald waters hold native marble trout, which is elusive and beautiful, making it a prime spot for those seeking a challenge and stunning scenery.

• Norway’s Lærdal River is known as the “Queen of Rivers,” perfect for anglers chasing the thrill of landing a mighty Atlantic salmon. The solitude and majesty of the fjords make this a destination for purists.

• Patagonia’s Limay River is where serious anglers pursue wild rainbow and brown trout. Patagonia’s remote, wild landscape offers a sense of adventure and mystery few places can match.

For the more adventurous, there are always untapped waters in Iceland, New Zealand, or even Japan, where fly fishing for amago (red-spotted masu salmon) brings a blend of tradition and discovery.

Fly fishing isn’t just about being on the water—it’s also about the creativity and craft behind tying flies. At its heart, fly tying is about mimicking nature, using feathers, threads, and hooks to create an illusion of life, designed to fool fish into taking a bite. Whether it’s the classic Royal Wulff or the trusty Pheasant Tail Nymph, each fly is a small masterpiece.

Modern fly tying has taken on a life of its own, with tiers experimenting with bold colors, synthetic materials, and even artistic designs that blur the line between functional fishing tools and art objects. Some anglers even add personal totems to their flies, like a tuft of hair from a family pet or a scrap of fabric from an old shirt—lucky charms to help land the big one.

Fly tying is a subtle blend of science and art. Knowing which fly to tie and when to use it is a key part of any angler’s skill set. While some traditionalists stick with tried-and-true patterns, others push the boundaries of creativity in the name of aesthetics and performance.

As fly fishing continues to grow, so does anglers’ responsibility to protect the waters they cherish. Conservation efforts have become an essential part of the sport. Many fly fishers practice catch-and-release techniques, using barbless hooks to minimize harm to fish. By respecting the environment and supporting sustainable practices, anglers ensure that future generations can also enjoy this timeless pursuit.

Understanding the ecology of the river system and the impact of human activity is vital. Whether cleaning up riverbanks, supporting hatchery programs, or avoiding fragile spawning grounds during critical seasons, the modern fly fisher is also a steward of the environment.

Fly fishing is an endless journey. The more you learn, the deeper you dive into its complexities, and the more you realize there’s always another river to explore, another technique to master, another fish to catch. Whether you’re drawn to the artistry of tying flies, the thrill of the cast, or the serene beauty of nature, fly fishing offers something for everyone.

For those in the know, the sport holds secrets and traditions passed down through generations. And for those just starting, it promises a lifetime of adventure and discovery. So grab your rod, tie your fly, and step into the stream—because the journey has just begun.

Rebuilding Social Connections and Happiness: Reflecting on the Last 15 Years

Fifteen years ago, you might have found me at a friend’s kitchen table, laughing over some joke that wouldn’t quite translate into words. We didn’t need much—a bottle of wine, a lazy Sunday afternoon, and hours to fill with conversation. That was life before smartphones became extensions of ourselves, before social media shaped how we viewed connection, and long before a pandemic ripped away what little real-life interaction we had left.

In the blink of an eye, everything changed. Social media rose to dominance, and with it came the illusion that we were all more connected than ever. Fast-forward to 2024, and we find ourselves in a peculiar place. We live in a world where we’re constantly tethered to one another through devices; yet, loneliness has become the epidemic of our age. So, what happened? What shifted in the past 15 years to bring us here? And, more importantly, how do we start rebuilding the authentic social connections that lead to happiness?

Let’s explore the major shifts that brought us here and what we can do to move forward.

The year was 2010, and Facebook was still fresh enough that logging in felt exciting.

There was something thrilling about reconnecting with old high school friends or keeping up with people you hadn’t seen in years. It felt like having the entire world at your fingertips. As smartphones became ubiquitous, so did the notion that we could stay constantly connected with everyone we had ever met.

I remember that initial rush. Suddenly, we could share every moment, every meal, every thought with hundreds of people at once. I vividly recall one summer evening when a group of us sat at the beach. Normally, it would’ve been the perfect setting—waves crashing, a glowing sunset, friends around a bonfire. But there we were, phones out, sharing the sunset on Instagram instead of with each other. Even in a moment so beautiful, our attention was divided. We had traded depth for convenience.

As the number of “friends” in our virtual worlds ballooned, the nature of our relationships began to thin. Where once I would catch up with a friend over coffee, a quick “like” on their latest post seemed sufficient. But was it? We were “connected” all the time, yet somehow less present with one another.

It wasn’t long before research began to validate that unsettling feeling. Despite the rise of social platforms, people reported higher levels of loneliness than ever before. One study after another revealed that our screen-mediated connections lack the depth required to foster true happiness. The dopamine hit of a “like” simply can’t replace the satisfaction of genuine human interaction.

If the 2010s were defined by a slow drift away from in-person connection, the pandemic was like a final push over the edge. Overnight, the whole world retreated indoors, severing the fragile social ties we had left. Suddenly, Zoom calls became the lifeline for personal and professional interaction. For a time, they were novel. Virtual happy hours and online game nights—we quickly adapted to our new digital-only world.

But as weeks turned to months, something became clear: virtual connections couldn’t substitute for real human presence. I distinctly remember a moment during lockdown when I drove to my best friend’s house just to wave at her from the car. We didn’t speak; we didn’t hug—we simply looked at each other across the yard and smiled. It was surreal, and in that moment, I felt the ache of what we had lost.

The joy of seeing someone’s smile, hearing their laughter, or even sharing a comfortable silence wasn’t replicable through a screen. It was Zoom fatigue, sure, but it was also a deeper hunger for physical connection—something primal that no app could fulfill.

The pandemic forced us to take stock of our relationships in a way that nothing else had. For many, the isolation revealed just how shallow some of our connections had become. It was a difficult reality to face, but also a moment of clarity. The friendships that survived lockdown were often the ones worth keeping, while those that withered away underscored how fragile those digital ties were.

One significant shift we saw during and after the pandemic was a focus on quality over quantity. People began to nurture smaller, more intimate circles. If nothing else, the pandemic reminded us that true happiness doesn’t come from how many friends we have, but from how deeply we’re connected to a few.

Even before the pandemic, the conversation around mental health had started to shift. As early as the mid-2010s, there was a growing recognition that our increasingly isolated, screen-based lives were taking a toll. Social isolation wasn’t just an emotional experience—it had real physical consequences. Researchers began connecting the dots between loneliness and increased risks for heart disease, depression, and even early mortality.

I witnessed this mental health shift firsthand. Conversations that once felt awkward or taboo—about therapy, anxiety, loneliness—began to surface in the mainstream. I remember hearing friends openly talk about their struggles for the first time, and it felt like a weight lifting off everyone’s shoulders. We weren’t alone in our loneliness, even if it sometimes felt that way.

But if the 2010s were about starting the conversation, the 2020s are about taking action. Today, it’s widely accepted that maintaining strong social ties is crucial for our well-being. There has been a resurgence of interest in community-based activities, wellness retreats, and even therapeutic practices like group therapy or mindfulness circles. The understanding is clear: social connection is more than just a “nice to have.” It’s a cornerstone of happiness and mental health.

So, where does that leave us? After a decade and a half of drifting toward disconnection, and after a pandemic that shattered much of our remaining social infrastructure, how do we rebuild? Here are a few strategies for fostering real, meaningful connections in this modern world:

Digital Detoxes: It may seem ironic to suggest stepping away from the very tools designed to connect us, but sometimes that’s exactly what we need. Set aside regular time to unplug from social media and focus on face-to-face interactions. Whether it’s a tech-free dinner or a weekend spent offline, these breaks can help recalibrate your relationships.

Prioritizing In-Person Time: In our busy lives, it’s easy to let weeks go by without seeing the people who matter most. Be intentional about scheduling time with friends and family. Even a quick coffee can do wonders for maintaining connections. I make it a point to schedule regular catch-ups with friends now. Recently, after months of only texting, a friend and I finally met for dinner. Just sitting across the table, hearing her voice, and feeling the warmth of her presence reminded me of what true connection feels like.

Vulnerability: In a world of polished Instagram feeds, it’s easy to fall into the trap of presenting a “perfect” version of ourselves. But real connection comes from vulnerability. Be open with the people in your life about your struggles, your joys, and everything in between.

Community Building: There’s something powerful about belonging to a community. Whether it’s a book club, a fitness class, or a local volunteer group, shared interests can foster strong connections. Seek out communities where you can regularly engage with others in meaningful ways.

Looking back on the past 15 years, it’s clear that our relationship with social connection has evolved dramatically. We’ve seen the rise of digital relationships, the toll of isolation, and the mental health crisis that followed. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the human desire for connection is resilient. Even in the face of these challenges, there’s hope.

The key to happiness lies not in how many connections we have, but in their depth. By being intentional in our relationships, fostering vulnerability, and seeking out real-world connections, we can begin to rebuild the social fabric that leads to true joy. After all, as we’ve learned, there’s no substitute for the real thing.