The Annex, Nitroglobus Roof Gallery, May 2025: YO – Love is a Stranger
Having opened on May 12th, 2025 for a (roughly) two-month run, Love is a Stranger is an evocative exhibition of black and white photography by – YO – (yoasa) being hosted by Dido Haas within the Annex of Nitroglobus Roof Gallery. Dido notes that the first time she came across YO’s work, she was immediately drawn to it, such was the emotive – almost physical – strength with the images. Given this is also my first exposure to YO’s work, I can understand why she felt so drawn; working in monochrome brings a depth of raw humanity to their work, carrying within it a persistence of passion that is enthralling.
Colour brings joy to the eyes – but black & white reaches the heart.
Yo(asa)
The title of the the exhibition – which features eighteen marvellously composed and processed pieces – is taken from the song of the same name by Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart, aka Eurythmics, and which formed the opening track of their second album Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).
The Annex, Nitroglobus Roof Gallery, May 2025: YO – Love is a Stranger
The lyrics, penned by Lennox, sought encapsulate the dichotomic relationship of love and hatred – so often two sides of the same coin – by putting opposites together, expressing how one can lift you up, lead you forward, whilst the other is just awaiting the opportunity to cut you down through doubt, confusion, and more; and where one can be so glamourous and appealing, with the other lurking just beneath with cruelty and unkindness; the promise of both, when taken together, equally rich and false.
To be honest, with one or two exceptions, I did not see many parallels between Lennox’s intent and the images YO presents – and if they are present, the failure to see them is purely mine, and not that of the artist. What I did find, however, are images that are simply breath-taking in their emotive depth and resonance; pieces beautifully focused and framed as an ode to the fickleness of love itself.
The Annex, Nitroglobus Roof Gallery, May 2025: YO – Love is a Stranger
Each picture is a masterpiece of visual storytelling, conveying a richness of desire, loneliness, loss, need, innocence, uncertainty. These are all emotions common to love. We all want to be loved, to be in love, and feel the same in return: to feel wanted cherished, desired. Yet love itself is mercurial; even in the midst of all the the sense of fulfilment, of finding that desire and cherishment in the eyes and arms of another, so too can it all too easily give forth doubts, take away the comfort as easily as it provides. It can turn thoughts of certainty and contentment into those of incertitude, and feelings of warmth to those of uncertainty.
Thus, we become alone in thought and trapped contradictions, literally and figuratively wandering; driven, perhaps to feel the very world around us is alien or as if the feelings that at first lifted us, made us feel a part of something so easily turn to feel apart from everything; standing outside and looking in. We have discovered that love itself has turned from welcoming friend to a complete stranger.
The Annex, Nitroglobus Roof Gallery, May 2025: YO – Love is a Stranger
All of this is conveyed within YO’s images, and quite powerfully and evocatively so. It is, in short: an absolutely exquisite collection.
I live in the countryside and I love nature and I think I could not live without the thousand shades of green that pass through the seasons, the sound of birds, the buzzing of bees, the bleating of sheep, the neighing of horses … and I see how the world is changing.
Nature will find a way to survive, it’s resilient, and like a thousand other species have, I’m convinced that we’re doomed to extinction, at least as structured as we are now.
So I wonder if there will be and what will be our future as human beings?
With these words, artist Manoji Yachvili (Onceagain) introduces us to a provocative essay-in-art exploring our relationship with our home world; questions of life within the broader solar system (and by extension, our galaxy as a whole); on the genuine threat of climate change, and questions of our survival as a race, and how we might recall Earth, should we survive the ecological destruction we are actively encouraging each and every day.
SLEA 3: Manoji Yachvili – Lost the Last
Entitled Lost the Last, the installation is particularly provocative for me, as it focuses in part on the questions of life on Mars and the potential for humanity to settle thereon. Or perhaps “dangerous” might be a better term; I’ve been both directly and indirectly involved in the questions related to the human exploration of Mars (up to and including working with Mars analogue environments and looking at questions of human factors), all of which could so easily cause me to superimpose my own commentary on certain things rather than focusing on the installation itself (such as dwelling on the bunkum idiocy of a certain CEO of a commercial space venture and his “plan” for “colonising” Mars).
It is possibly this wider focus on Mars, coupled with our on-going efforts to explore it and seek answers to basic questions as to what happened there to both turn it from a warm, wet planet, possibly harbouring basic life, and what happened to that life;, which caused Manoji to focus on it within this installation. As such, there is perhaps a temptation to critique it in light of the references to climate change on the basis that the latter is unlikely to cause Earth to drift into a Mars-like state of potential frozen stasis, but rather push us increasingly towards the broiling hell we know as Venus.
SLEA 3: Manoji Yachvili – Lost the Last
However, I would venture to suggest such critiques are put aside, as the focus should be on the broader questions asked by the installation, and what any potential colonisation of Mars, coupled with the global failure on the parts of governments and corporations to really work to reverse – or at least slow – the critical overload with are placing on this planet in terms of climate impact and pollution, might mean for this planet.
The installation itself forms two halves. The first – which housed the installation’s Landing Point – presents a barren landscape, seemingly rusted with iron oxides. It carries a very Mars-like feel to it, but it is not Mars. It is a dead (or near-dead) Earth. This is shown by the remnants of a high-rise building to one side of the setting, an old highway information sign and evidence of even old ruins from humanity’s past. The Landing Point sits within a small structure – and I would suggest spending a minute or two examining the contents of this room prior to moving on; they have a lot to say for themselves.
SLEA 3: Manoji Yachvili – Lost the Last
A gallery lies a short walk from the Landing Point, the hazmat figure standing in front of it again suggesting this is in fact Earth, albeit Earth with a clearly noxious atmosphere. Within this gallery lies an exhibition of art carefully crafted to aid in illustrating the idea that we are the architects of Earth’s – and our own – doom. Mixed with the images are 3D pieces by various artists, selected by Manoji, they further underscore the themes of loss and memory.
There are some apparent anachronisms here: The space suited figure apparently cannot survive without their suit and helmet as they explore what is left of Earth, but horses and trees can. However, as we know from Mars, life – admittedly in its more basic forms – is remarkably hardy and able to survive in environments utterly hostile to us. As such, I would suggest the inclusion of horses and trees within some of the images is intended to be a metaphor for this fact: we can more easily relate to life persevering when Nature has turned Her back on us, rather than depictions of more basic life we might not recognise.
SLEA 3: Manoji Yachvili – Lost the Last
On encountering the far wall of this space (walk into it), visitors will be asked to accept a local Experience (if they haven’t in a previous visit). This will teleport them to the second part of the installation: a base on Mars.
Surrounded by a backdrop which put me in mind of the Columbia Hills (not that this is remotely relevant), the base serves as a place where memories of all we have lost are kept alive – at least in miniature: ideas of open homes where we were once free to breathe the air outdoors; places rich in grass where the creatures with which we once shared our home world could wander; a place where water flowed freely, without having to be canned and rationed. It serves as an illustration of what we stand to lose if we persist in making Earth hostile towards us, and all we stand to lose.
SLEA 3: Manoji Yachvili – Lost the Last
Evocative and with much to say, Lost the Last should be seen, explored and considered.
Raglan Shire, Second Life’s Tiny community, is once again opening its doors to people from across the grid, as participating artists and visitors are invited to the Raglan Shire Artwalk 2025.
This year, the the event runs from Sunday, May 18th, through until Sunday, June 15th, 2025, inclusive. It offers an opportunity not just to appreciate a huge range of2D art together with a selection of 3D pieces, but to also tour the Shire regions and enjoy the hospitality of the Raglan Shire community – one of the friendliest and fun-seeking groups in Second Life.
A non-juried exhibition, the Artwalk is open to any artist wishing to enter, and has minimal restrictions on the type of art displayed (one of the most important being all art is in keeping with the Shire’s maturity rating). All of this means that it offers one of the richest mixes of art displayed within a single location in Second Life, with 2D art is displayed along the hedgerows of the Shire’s pathways and tree platforms overhead and 3D art among the community’s parks.
Raglan Shire Artwalk 2025
Over 100 artists are participating in 2025, many for the first time. As such, the depth and range of art on display is guaranteed to keep visitors exploring the paths and walks around and through the hedgerows – and if walking proves a little much, there are always the Shire’s tours to ease the load on the feet, together with the teleport boards to help move visitors swiftly around and through the different display areas. But that said, I do recommend exercising your pedal extremities and doing at least some of your exploration on foot – just keep in mind people do have their homes in the regions as well.
Given the number of artists involved, there isn’t a published list of participants, but anyone interested in the world of SL art is bound to recognise many of the names of the artists here. The Artwalk is also a marvellous way to see art from both our physical and digital worlds and for catching artists both familiar and new to your eye. Just don’t try to see it all at once; the Artwalk is open for a month, which gives plenty of time for browsing and appreciating the art without feeling overloaded.
Raglan Shire Artwalk 2025
SLurl Details
All of the Raglan Shire Artwalk regions are rated General)
Kondor Art Square, May 2025: Mareea Farrasco – Landscapes
Landscape photography is an art I greatly admire. Within Second Life it offers a means to capture settings and places which – the nature of the platform being what it is – might otherwise prove transient for a wide variety of reasons. Through the images taken of them, we might revisit places which might otherwise have vanished forever, rather than aging and changing with time and allow us multiple opportunities to revisit and appreciate.
As a demonstration of this, the Kondor Art Square, part of Hermes Kondor’s art hub, is hosting an exhibition of exceptional Second Life landscape art captured by Mareea Farrasco. Comprising 20 images gathered from across Second Life, the collection is called simply Landscapes, with each piece capturing its subject uniquely and beautifully. Each has been carefully and perfectly post-processed to give the impression of having been painted, adding a further sense of depth to their presentation, as well as demonstrating the validly of such editing when performed by an artist who understands the proper use of the tools at her disposal.
Kondor Art Square, May 2025: Mareea Farrasco – Landscapes
These are places which may be recognised by seasoned SL explorers – or, equally, they may not. However, whether or not you happen to recognise any given place is the collection doesn’t actually matter. What is of import is the beauty within each piece.
In this, Mareea’s eye, framing and editing combine to produce pieces which are immediately and richly engaging, drawing one into each of them in turn, offering hints of narrative and suggestions of memory. They speak to the purity of art in its ability to portray and present beauty for its own sake, without necessarily carrying a deeper meaning.
Kondor Art Square, May 2025: Mareea Farrasco – Landscapes
“Landscapes with a message” is very much the theme of the second exhibition I’m covering here: that of Blip Mumfuzz’s Landscapes from a Lost World, currently open at Serena Art Centre.
Blip is another artist whose work I admire immensely, hence why I cover so many of her exhibitions. Like Mareea, she has an innate ability to draw us into the heart of her images, together with an ability to direct our focus and weave stories. Her use of colour, angle and editing is such that her images can have both clarity and at times border on the abstract.
Serena Art Centre, May 2025: Blip Mumfuzz – Landscapes from a Lost World
Blip’s art is often capable of speaking to a wider theme; and such is this case with Landscapes from a Lost World. Set within an environment – the abandoned, fading structures of an old farm – specifically created by Blip in which to display them, and which is thus as much a part of the exhibition as the images, the exhibition actually presents a mix of landscape images and life studies, all focused on a message highly relevant to the physical world in which we currently live.
However, rather than offer my own interpretation of the setting and images, I’ll instead offer Blip’s own description and, like her, leave you to follow the advice on viewer settings and explore the exhibition so that the images, indoors and out, to speak to you within the framing of Blip’s words.
Serena Art Centre, May 2025: Blip Mumfuzz – Landscapes from a Lost World
In the face of the imminent climate-induced collapse of our modern technological civilization, the decrepit farm carries a multiplicity of meanings: societal decay, ways of life forever lost, economic and social collapse, and stands as an indictment of the sociopathic billionaires who are abandoning the rest of humanity and all its magnificent achievements in order to save themselves and to hold onto their power as long as possible.
Looking back from a time 25 years in the future, the images, which are scattered around the “farm”, should be seen as nostalgic dream images of our lost world. A world that was once, within living memory, alive and vibrant; full of life, culture, love, hopes, and dreams, now being destroyed by the greedy and powerful.
– Blip Mumfuzz
Serena Art Centre, May 2025: Blip Mumfuzz – Landscapes from a Lost World
Two very different, be equally engaging exhibitions open through May 2025, and I recommend both to your eyes and thoughts.
Drawn from the Latin, simulacrum (“likeness, semblance”) entered the language of European art during the late 1500s, when was originally used to refer to a painting or statue directly representing someone or something (most notably a god or deity). However, by the 19th century, it had come to express an artistic endeavour – notably an image – formed without the substance or qualities of the original (e.g. to use a more modern example: a photocopy of a photograph of a painting).
It is a term which is particularly relevant today thanks to the rapid rise of generative AI tools, and the manner in which they can be used to literally churn out prompt-based images over and over without any genuine artistic input or understanding of the actual desired request or the inconsistencies, anachronisms and outright errors present within the final product.
Of course, those using such tools diligently will argue that they are merely a tool; when balanced with a critical eye and the use of other tools to refine, enhance and correct, they can be used to produce richly diverse pieces that do have originality within them. This is actually not an unfair summation, as far as it goes.
The problem¹ here is that the vast majority of users of such generative tools don’t exercise skill or talent. They prompt, wait, publish, often using minor variations of the same prompt ad nauseam (“make the woman’s hair colour blue”) to produce a stream of near identical images (as all too often seen on the likes of Deviant Art). There is little originality within such pieces when compared one to the next; worse, there is little in the way of critical review, and those aforementioned errors are allowed to persist. Worse still, all this repetition (complete with errors) is fed back into the data pool, further diluting it and increasing the regurgitation of vacuous elements to form what amounts to self-perpetuating simulacrums, devoid of originality and talent.
This constant cycle of regurgitation and repetition without originality is explored by Manoji Yachvili (onceagain), in her exhibition Simulacrum, currently on display at Nitroglobus Roof Gallery, curated by Dido Haas. It is also very much a personal expression of Manoji’s own increasing sense of artistic loss and frustration as she sees creative expression, skill and progress within art and artistic experimentation vanishing in a rising tide of banality.
Reality no longer exists, it has disappeared, crumbled by the media and modern technologies that propose images that do not refer to reality, that receive meaning only from other images and that are perpetually regenerated, thus remaining increasingly disconnected from what was originally real. Everything I see has an appearance and the power of appearance, without a faithful external image and therefore devoid of the original vitality.
To achieve this, Manoji presents a collection of original paintings that are richly expressive whilst clearly echoing the banality and emptiness of the kind all too easily spewed forth by generative AI. Through the use of simple, repeated elements – masks, faceless figures, and muted colours – she beautifully conveys the empty, expressionless redundancy so common within generative AI art.
Yes, these are all paintings utilising common themes elements – but each of them is completely original in form and presentation, allow it to stand on its own as a singular, unique piece carrying with it an ability to speak to each of us differently. Thus, these are pieces that reach beyond the artist, offering a richness of expression and meaning, standing not as the result of a collection of prompts, but as a prompt for our imaginations to take flight within them.
In doing so, Manoji establishes the genuine power of art through the hand, eye and talent originating from within the artist, making this a beautiful expressive collection, each piece standing in its own right as a genuine work of art.
Please note that within this article, I’m intentionally avoiding issues of copyright and ownership in relations to the “training” of generative AI tools, because while these are clearly of concern generally, they are not the focus of the exhibition being reviewed.
Bryn Oh’s Imogen and the Pigeons first appeared in Second Life over a decade ago. Like all of Bryn’s art, it was deeply immersive, experimental, and offered a depth of narrative that might be seen as both challenging to navigate with its layered themes, and visually engaging. Also, as with most of Bryn’s work, it sat within her broader narrative universe, started with her Rabbicorn story, with its most direct link to that universe being via The Singularity of Kumiko, which was both a physical prequel to Imogen and the Pigeons and as sequel – so to speak – to Imogen’s life, focusing as it did on the story of Imogen’s daughter.
However, whilst I have attempted to follow all of Bryn’s creativity within these pages, Imogen and the Pigeons is a work that escaped my attention back in 2013, so I was pleased to be able to pay a visit to it following its extensive update and return to Second Life, where it re-opened on April 25th, 2025.
Bryn Oh: Imogen and the Pigeons, May 2025
As noted, this is a story sitting within Bryn’s broader narrative universe. But this does not mean you necessarily need to have specific knowledge of that universe; the central themes of Imogen are accessible to anyone visiting, and the layering of ideas and themes allows the visitor the opportunity to peel them open howsoever they wish and however deeply they wish, be in during a single visit or over multiple visits or as a result of witnessing and allowing what they’ve encountered to whisper quietly to them during and after a visit.
That said, there are core themes throughout Bryn’s work, and these are very present within Imogen, as Bryn explains:
My artistic focus is in the way modern society is affected by technology, ranging between human/machine and machine/machine relationships. Often we consider technology to open channels for people to interact and engage socially, however, the opposite can occur where people become isolated within their own personal bubble, separate and witnessing the world from a distance almost as a product with brittle popularity. My work expresses a yearning for meaningful connections within the new technological realm that often contains human remoteness. I build virtual reality environments that convey the juxtapositions between human emotion and machine sentience. I combine poetry with a melancholy narrative that explores the themes of connection and belonging.
– Bryn Oh
Bryn Oh: Imogen and the Pigeons, May 2025
In terms of presentation, Imogen is richly immersive and takes advantage of some of SL’s most recent updates, such as the use of reflection probes and dynamic mirrors. Core to the installation is Bryn’s own Second Life Experience, which should be accepted on arrival if not a part of your active Experiences. Given all of this, the installation should really be viewed using an up-to-date viewers with, if your system can manage it, at least mirrors being enabled, together with Use Shared Environment set and have local sounds enabled.
It’s also particularly pertinent to remember that Imogen is designed to be both immersive and interactive – a lot of the initial parts of the installation rely on you finding your way forward, and some of the time this may not seem obvious. As such, do be sure to mouse-over things you may find – particularly things which look like they may be buttons or switches. In this latter regard, I’m not just talking about the in-world “audio” buttons you can press to hear recitals of the poems that form the written narrative for the story; there are also those that will open doors and portals.
Bryn Oh: Imogen and the Pigeons, May 2025
Be prepared to put some effort into getting around – routes are not direct (although some are volume-triggered teleports, making transitions between chapters in the story fairly straightforward). When you initially find your way outside, for example, the journey does not end at the water’s edge, but you’ll have to have to exercise care and have a keen eye in order to make your way upwards. However, like Bryn, I’m not going to point you towards where you should go or what you should do.
I have said in the past that I think of my artwork here in virtual worlds almost as paintings you can enter and explore. The beauty of a painting, the immersion of cinema and then meshed in with a new type of open ended freedom of movement combined with interaction. There are many new and interesting techniques to experiment with inside the virtual art form. The one which I brought up at the beginning, that ties into my new build Imogen and the pigeons, is creating immersion within the artistic environment by creating scenarios which challenge the viewer. I generally don’t put out text or arrows to tell the viewer where to go or what to do. I feel this can break the immersion so I let the viewer discover on their own.
– Bryn Oh
Bryn Oh: Imogen and the Pigeons, May 2025
So, what is the story behind Imogen and the Pigeons? As Bryn notes above, it is very much about our relationship with technology. Set in an age where an individual’s memories can be recorded, and then potentially edited, spliced, etc., it explores questions of existence, the human condition, the juxtaposition of connection with others and isolation from them as so often exists when it comes to our increasing reliance on technology for our interactions. Also within it we might find questions concerning our own identity and how we project ourselves in the eyes of others – how willing are we to amend our own histories, intentionally alter our memories and actions when verbalising them, in order to appear more acceptable, more desirable, in their eyes?
Within this, there are many subtexts and other avenues of question those exploring Imogen might find or be prompted to explore. In this I would urge you to observe everything you see at least twice; from the titles of books waiting to be found to drawings on walls to those scattered across a floor in as if torn from a sketchbook and thrown into the air, pretty much everything you encounter within the chapters and scenes, rooms and spaces, throughout Imogen will have something to say.
Bryn Oh: Imogen and the Pigeons, May 2025
Even were the route straight-forward, this layering of ideas and subtext is such that Imogen and the Pigeons is not the easiest or nor the most direct narrative to comprehend as one moves through it. Patience and an open, inquisitive mind are essential to both finding your way through the many scenes and rooms and in coming to an understanding as to what might be being whispered to you by your subconscious, as you find your way from the opening scene and back to it.
And if all this sound cryptic, it is only because I do not want to spoil things for you or for Bryn. There is a depth and richness to Imogen that perhaps reaches beyond the likes of Hand and other environments Bryn has created; an almost perfect balance of narrative, adventure, questioning, reflection, warning and mystery (I’m still boggling about the poem of the writer, and whether her name and her appearance are an intentional reference to a producer of immersive adventures with SL, and if so, what it might potentially mean). Thus, this is an installation which really should be experienced and cogitated upon directly and not offered through a watery translation as I might otherwise give.
Inara Pey: Living in a Modemworld 