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It’s vast. It’s solemn. It’s spectacular. Red Square lies like a giant theatrical set at the foot of the Kremlin, with onion domes, granite tombs, and Soviet ghosts embedded in every brick. Tourists pose. Soldiers parade. Protesters whisper. Presidents walk in choreographed silence. But beneath the stone lies a curatorial provocation - How do you exhibit a nation’s soul, when the soul is still in flux? And how do museums engage with public spaces that are already curated by g

Every two weeks, the world loses another language. With it disappears a unique worldview, a cultural memory, and a living connection to...