This spectacular image taken in Sakrisøy, Norway, triggered accusations that it was simply too good to be true

Yuan Li splits his time between two careers: in the winter, he works as a ski instructor; in summer, a photographer. When he took this image, Beijing-based Li was visiting Norway and Iceland with friends, on a trip focused on sightseeing and photographing the aurora borealis. He captured this picture while exploring Sakrisøy, a small island in Lofoten, Norway. In the foreground sits this distinctive yellow homestay; in the background, Olstinden mountain.

“It had snowed heavily all day,” Li recalls. “As I was setting up to capture this scene, the snow stopped and the sun came out, which made the perfect environment for taking photos.”

Scarlett Johansson’s directorial debut stars the 96-year-old June Squibb, while Netflix’s lovable tweefest sees its heroine move to Rome

Eleanor the Great
Out now
June Squibb stars in Scarlett Johansson’s directorial debut, which premiered at Cannes and tells the tale of the eponymous Eleanor, a senior citizen recently relocated to New York, who strikes up a friendship with a 19-year old – and then stumbles her way into pretending to be a Holocaust survivor.

Lurker
Out now
A hit at Sundance, this is the story of a lowly retail employee who happens to strike up a friendship with a rising pop star, becoming the Boswell to his Johnson, if Boswell was part of a pop star’s entourage. But the path of friendship with a famous person never did run smooth, and the uneven power dynamic soon prompts some desperate manoeuvring in this psychological thriller.

Ella McCay
Out now
Emma Mackey stars in the latest from James L Brooks (his first since 2010), a political comedy about an idealistic thirtysomething working in government and preparing to step into the shoes of her mentor, Governor Bill (Albert Brooks). Jamie Lee Curtis co-stars as Ella’s aunt.

Russian airstrikes on Kyiv, floods in Indonesia, the IDF in Gaza and the Nutcracker in Nairobi: the past seven days as captured by the world’s leading photojournalists

The UK art world is finally becoming more inclusive. But greater support must be given to the organisations that enable disabled artists to flourish

The Turner prize is no stranger to sparking debate or pushing boundaries. This year it has achieved both. For the first time, an artist with learning disabilities has won. Glasgow-born Nnena Kalu took the award for her colourful, cocoon-like sculptures made from VHS tape, clingfilm and other abandoned materials, along with her large swirling vortex drawings. Kalu is autistic, with limited verbal communication. In an acceptance speech on her behalf, Kalu’s facilitator, Charlotte Hollinshead, said that “a very stubborn glass ceiling” had been broken.

Kalu’s win is a high-profile symbol of a shift towards greater inclusivity that has been happening in the UK arts world over the past five years. Last month, Beyond the Visual opened at the Henry Moore Institute, Leeds, in which everything is curated or created by blind and partially sighted artists. The exhibits range from Moore sculptures (which visitors are encouraged to touch) to David Johnson’s 10,000 stone-plaster digestive biscuits stamped with braille. Design and Disability at the V&A South Kensington is showcasing the ways in which disabled, deaf and neurodivergent people have shaped culture from the 1940s to now.

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The University of Leeds complex was a prototype for the Barbican – and the work done to it over time demonstrates how brutalist buildings can be humanised, writes Alan Radford

I read with interest about the refurbishment plans for the Barbican (Barbican revamp to give ‘bewildering’ arts centre a new lease of life, 5 December). I spent more than 30 years working on the prototype – the large complex of buildings that the architects Chamberlin, Powell and Bon designed for the University of Leeds, constructed circa 1970.

All of the design features in the Barbican were there in the Leeds complex of offices, laboratories, library and so on, including all the problems. I always explained to visitors that I regarded the Chamberlin buildings primarily as a large-scale piece of brutalist sculpture rather than as a working environment.

Tate stresses its departing director has ‘diversified’ the collection, but it has hidden its treasures and let its galleries slide into insulting incoherence – and visitors have voted with their absence

In the last nine years Tate has had some hits, but its misses have become embarrassing. Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall is currently occupied by a feeble installation that would be weak in an ordinary-sized art space, let alone this gigantic one. It’s become genuinely hard to understand what Tate’s priorities are when it chooses artists for the annual Turbine Hall commission. And the Turner prize is even more mystifying. Once the stage of shocking, provocative art that engaged – whether they were for or against – a massive public, it has retreated into wilful obscurity, its trips around the UK starting to seem part of a studied wholesomeness. What’s the point of staging it in Bradford when the shortlist just exports the enigmatic tastes of a metropolitan elite?

Is Maria Balshaw, who is quitting her post as director of Tate, solely responsible for this? No, but perhaps she is courageously taking the blame and allowing the institution to reinvent itself as it needs to, fast. The achievements Tate stresses in its announcement of her departure centre on how she has “diversified” the collection, exhibition and audiences. But in that noble quest, there has been a loss of artistic ambition, aesthetic thrills, raw horror and beauty. Sometimes we really do want art for art’s sake and Tate has lost sight of that.

The brutalist arts-and-towers complex, where even great explorers get lost, is showing its age. Let’s hope the 50th anniversary upgrade is better than the ‘pointillist stippling’ tried in the 1990s

The Barbican is aptly named. From the Old French barbacane, it historically means a fortified gateway forming the outer line of defence to a city or castle. London’s Barbican marks the site of a medieval structure that would have defended an important access point. Its architecture was designed to repel. Some might argue, as they stumble out of Barbican tube station and gaze upwards, not much has changed in the interim.

The use of the word “barbican” was in decline in this country until the opening in 1982 of the Barbican Arts Centre. Taking 20 years to build, it completed the modernist megastructure of the Barbican Estate, grafted on to a huge tract of land devastated by wartime bombing. The aim was to bring life back to the City through swish new housing, energised by the presence of culture. Nonetheless, the arts centre, the elusive minotaur at the heart of the concrete labyrinth, was always farcically difficult to locate. To this day, visitors are obliged to trundle along the Ariadne’s thread of the famous yellow line, inscribed in what seemed like an act of institutional desperation, across concrete hill and dale.

The Guardian’s picture editors select photographs from around the world

With its soaring ceilings, meandering pathways and mesh-like walls, Taichung Art Museum, designed by Sanaa, sweeps visitors from library to gallery to rooftop garden for rousing views

Walking through the brand new Taichung Art Museum in central Taiwan, directions are kind of an abstract concept. Designed by powerhouse Japanese architecture firm Sanaa, the complex is a collection of eight askew buildings, melding an art museum and municipal library, encased in silver mesh-like walls, with soaring ceilings and meandering pathways.

Past the lobby – a breezy open space that is neither inside nor out – the visitor wanders around paths and ramps, finding themselves in the library one minute and a world-class art exhibition the next. A door might suddenly step through to a skybridge over a rooftop garden, with sweeping views across Taichung’s Central Park, or into a cosy teenage reading room. Staircases float on the outside of buildings, floor levels are disparate, complementing a particular space’s purpose and vibe rather than having an overall consistency.

Tribute to Sylvia Townsend Warner follows campaign to nominate overlooked women

“The thing all women hate is to be thought dull,” says the title character of Sylvia Townsend Warner’s 1926 novel, Lolly Willowes, an early feminist classic about a middle-aged woman who moves to the countryside, sells her soul to the devil and becomes a witch.

Although women’s lives are so limited by society, Lolly observes, they “know they are dynamite … know in their hearts how dangerous, how incalculable, how extraordinary they are”.

Artists explore insomnia and snoozing, sculptors imagine alternative futures and we look back with a great British photographer – all in your weekly dispatch

To Improvise a Mountain
Painter Lynette Yiadom-Boakye portrays fictional people in made-up settings. Where does she get her haunting ideas? Here she reveals her inspirations from Walter Sickert to Bas Jan Ader.
• MK Gallery, Milton Keynes, until 25 January

This week’s best wildlife photographs from around the world

Museum, which includes rich collection of Vermeers and Rembrandts, currently shows only fraction of its 1m objects

Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum, which holds the world’s largest trove of paintings from the Dutch Golden Age, has announced plans to open an outpost in Eindhoven.

The museum, which showcases only a fraction of its more than 1m objects, said on Thursday it would construct the 3,500 sq metre centre over the next six to eight years.

The Guardian’s picture editors select photographs from around the world

Japan House, London
The fruit of a two-year odyssey through the workshops of artisans using ancient techniques, this delightful show features rippling chestnut trays, exquisitely turned kettles and vessels crafted from petrified leather

As a retort to the doom-mongering prognostications of AI’s dominance over human creativity, it is momentarily comforting to tally up the things it cannot do. It cannot throw a pot, blow glass, beat metal, weave bamboo or turn wood. Perhaps, when it has assumed absolute control of human consciousness and the machinery of mass production, it will be able to. But for now, throwing a vessel and weighing its heft in your hand, or carving a tray and sizing up its form with your eye are still the preserve of skilled craftspeople, using techniques their distant ancestors would recognise.

On show at London’s Japan House is the work of more than 100 pairs of eyes and hands, constituting an overwhelming profusion of human creativity, corralled into an exhibition of laconic simplicity. About 2,000 objects – bowls, trays, cups, metalwork, glassware and some perplexing bamboo cocoons – are grouped according to their makers on long, softly lit display tables. At first glance, you might think you have stumbled into an especially refined John Lewis homeware department, but then you notice the delicate black and red lacquer work, the gleaming gold on the inside of a perfectly shaped sake cup, the intricacy of the bamboo and some eccentrically shaped vessels, like alien seedpods, that look like ceramics but turn out be a kind of petrified leather.

In her complex works, the Polish artist manipulates images of male nudes to comment on masculine power-plays and female emancipation

To give people a sense of her evolution, the lauded Polish artist Zofia Kulik likes to compare two of her creative milestones. The first was the centrepiece of her earliest exhibition as a solo artist in 1989, where she debuted her groundbreaking, technically complex photomontages in which dizzying patterns are woven from repeating imagery. It’s a self-portrait where she peers uncertainly from a mandala made from tiny posturing male nudes, “pressed in by men” as Kulik puts it.

The second was made nearly a decade later in 1997, the year that that artistic leap into the unknown was given the ultimate public affirmation and she represented her country at the Venice Biennale. This time she’s an assertive queen, posed like Elizabeth I, resplendent with a ruff, wide-skirted and sleeved gown, embellished with decorative patterns of those naked men.

Most metros use plastic or metal, but the distinctive fabrics on London’s network are full of clues to its history

When I first came to London from Yorkshire in the late 1980s, I found the tube replete with bizarre novelties. Among them was the way most trains required me to sit sideways to the direction of travel, as on a fairground waltzer. Directly opposite me was another person or an empty seat, and while I knew not to stare at people, I did stare at the seats – at their woollen coverings, called moquette. I have since written two books about them, the first nonfiction, Seats of London, and now a crime novel, The Moquette Mystery.

I was attracted to moquette firstly because it, like me, came from Yorkshire (most of it back then was woven in Halifax), and whereas many foreign metros have seats of plastic or steel, moquette made the tube cosy. Yet it seemed underappreciated. The index of the standard history of the tube, for instance, proceeds blithely from Moorgate to Morden.

Young Vic theatre, London
A powerful blend of mixed reality, testimony and theatre exposes the human toll of benefit cuts – and asks what justice looks like in a new political era

David Cameron did not just leave us the gift of Brexit before fleeing his premiership. There is also the toxic legacy of his “age of austerity” policies. Here is an excoriating production that examines what austerity meant for those targeted by it. They include some of the most vulnerable members of society – people who were abused, destitute, disabled, mentally ill and jobless (what was it that Pearl Buck said about the test of a civilisation?).

The show is based on the lives of people who were denied welfare benefits and died. Directed by Sacha Wares, it is an installation that combines promenade theatre with holograms. Wearing a mixed-reality (MR) headset, you enter a room where eight static figures emerge, played by actors. They lie on gurneys, bare mattresses, park benches, pavements and soiled duvets, and make for a woeful army of “invisibles” who have, for this time, come into our line of vision. We hear their stories, told by relatives (interviews co-edited by Wares and special advisor John Pring) and the accounts bring tears to your eyes.

Unfettered love for late photographer in France and elsewhere stands in contrast to occasional reservations in UK

The death of Martin Parr, the photographer whose work chronicled the rituals and customs of British life, was front-page news in France and his life and work were celebrated as far afield as the US and Japan.

If his native England had to shake off concerns about the role of class in Parr’s satirical gaze before it could fully embrace him, countries like France have long revered the Epsom-born artist “like a rock or a movie star”, said the curator Quentin Bajac.

Photographer Janette Beckman and curator Julie Grahame have organized a one-time fundraiser for the ACLU that showcases images of musicians who have recorded protest songs or are known for their activism. Forty-three photographers have donated images of 50 artists, from John Lennon to Nina Simone to Bad Bunny, and 100% of the profits will go towards the ACLU and their efforts to protect equality, freedom and rights. In addition to the images there is a playlist of songs for the fundraiser.

As the first learning-disabled artist to win the UK’s most prestigious art award, Kalu has smashed a ‘very stubborn glass ceiling’. Her facilitator reveals why her victory is so seismic – and the secrets of her party playlist

The morning after the Turner prize ceremony, the winner of the UK’s most prestigious art award, Nnena Kalu, is eating toast and drinking a strong cup of tea. Everyone around her is beaming – only a little the worse for wear after dancing their feet off at the previous night’s party in Bradford, and sinking “a couple of brandies” back at the hotel bar. I say hello to Kalu, offer my congratulations, and admire the 59-year-old’s beautifully manicured creamy pink nails. But the interview is with her facilitator, Charlotte Hollinshead, who has worked with the artist since 1999. Kalu has limited verbal communication skills; she has learning disabilities and is autistic.

As for Hollinshead, she is struggling to encapsulate the enormity of the win: for Kalu herself; for ActionSpace, the organisation that has supported her for 25 years; and for the visibility and acceptance of artists with learning disabilities within the wider art world. “It’s unbelievably huge,” she says. “I have to think back to where we started, when there was absolutely no interest whatsoever. I’d sit at dinner parties with friends in the art world. Nobody was interested in what I did, or who we worked with. We couldn’t get any exhibitions anywhere. No galleries were interested. Other artists weren’t interested. Art students weren’t interested. We have had to claw our way up from the very depths of the bottom.”

Ghana’s capital is a party and entertainment hub but members of the diaspora would do well to experience its spectacular art scene

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After more than 50 editions surfing across the waves of the global Black diaspora with Nesrine, this will be my final dispatch for the Long Wave, as I move on to a new role on the Opinion desk at the Guardian. I am heartbroken to be leaving, but I am so thankful to all of our readers for being so encouraging and engaged throughout the past year.

Any who, time to cut the sad music (this is my farewell tune of choice), as I have one more edition for you. In late autumn, I took my first trip to Ghana for Accra Cultural Week. While there, I visited the historic area of Jamestown, which was reflected in an exhibition by artist Serge Attukwei Clottey.

‘I was told not to go to St Charles as it was too dangerous. I went and was struck by how free the kids are. They’re not afraid of the region’s rattlesnakes’

I visited the Appalachian mountains for the first time in my mid-20s, after deciding I needed to get away from my inner circle in Sweden to find my way into photography. I felt I had to be by myself, just responding to things happening around me and not thinking about my daily life.

America played a big part in my family history, and the Appalachians called to me in particular because at that time, around 2006, I’d been listening to a lot of bluegrass music. I wanted to get closer to people who lived in the place where it originated – music has always been a big inspiration for me. While driving in the mountains with no particular destination in mind, I met a social worker who told me: “Whatever you do, don’t go to St Charles.” She said something about it being too dangerous, which made me curious.

Veteran set decorator Lauri Gaffin has spent a career dressing up films from indie classics to blockbusters. Her new photographic memoir takes us behind the scenes of this ever-changing job – and on the hunt for wolves’ penis bones

The closer you get to Kalu’s endless sinewy trails of old VHS tape, the harder it is to know where their forms stop and the space around them begins

• Nnena Kalu becomes first artist with a learning disability to win Turner prize

Nnena Kalu’s forms come at you with their almost alien unknowable presence. They bulge and bifurcate and multiply. The viewer gets caught up in all the roaring, spilling, snaggling details, and you begin to wonder about your own boundaries, the body’s beginnings and its endings. The closer you get to Kalu’s endless sinewy trails of old VHS tape, their spews of filigree plastic webbing, their bound-up, sometimes cable-tied suturings, the harder it is to know where their forms stop and the space around them begins. Their containment is precarious. So full of life and energy, you think they might burst.

Kalu’s art is so embodied, so sensuous, so much a trace of her constant, physical engagement, so much a negotiation between the body that made it and the bodies she creates, it becomes difficult to distinguish between the activity of making and the thing itself. This was true, too, in the figures Giacometti made in his room filled with plaster dust. But Kalu’s art is not reducible to anything we might call a technique, and comparisons with other artists are not much help.

Chair of 2025 judging panel says win ‘begins to erase that border between the neurotypical and neurodiverse artist’

• Nnena Kalu’s embodied, sensuous art makes her a worthy Turner prize winner

Nnena Kalu has won the 2025 Turner prize for her colourful drawings and sculptures made from found fabric and VHS tape, becoming the first artist with a learning disability to take home the £25,000 prize.

Alex Farquharson, chair of the jury and director of Tate Britain, said the win by the British-Nigerian represented a watershed moment for the international art world.

With a sharp eye and saturated colours, Parr’s photographs revealed the world in all its eccentric glory. Here, his friends, peers and collaborators pay tribute to a master

Grayson Perry, artist
I’ve never really been a fanboy, but the first time I saw Martin Parr I ran up and drunkenly hugged him. I said: “I love you Martin Parr!” I couldn’t help it. He was a hero of mine. And over the years he became my best artist friend.

Wonderful art, amazing design and beautiful locations have drawn our tipsters to chapels, churches and cathedrals from Norway to Bulgaria

The Tromsøysund parish church, commonly called the Arctic Cathedral, in Tromsø is a modernist delight. The simple, elegant exterior that reflects the surrounding scenery and evokes traditional Sami dwellings is matched by an interior that has the most comfortable pews I have ever sat on. The stunning glass mosaic titled the Return of Christ at one end may not be to everyone’s taste, but to me had power and majesty. Exiting this magnificent building after an organ recital to be met by the northern lights flickering overhead was awe-inspiring.
Bruce Horton