ARCA PERSPECTIVES
WITH monica

I would have to say Digital spaces (which, to be completely honest, is mainly inspired by the Arca collection Digital Landscape). As I work with art history, I don't always get the chance to engage with ultra-contemporary issues like digital media, but it has become an area of personal research that takes the form of this collection.

One of the main reasons I love Arca so much is that, in a time when I was succumbing to endless scrolling and the feelings of impending doom that result from it, the content on here gave me a push to explore this whole situation critically and thus to detach myself from it. I follow a lot of curators who also engage with these issues, and the push and pull of saving articles and other think pieces from each other feels like anonymously building an epistemological community.

When it comes to my Digital spaces collection, this feeling is all the more important to me, as it gives me a hint that more and more of us are refusing to become victims of algorithm-powered brainless consumption, and thinking critically about the very platforms that allow it. Combatting anti-intellectualism one curated piece at a time.

One article that has recently inspired me is The Underground University by Cheryl Missal, published on Aeon. This may be biased, as my own doctoral research in art history focuses on the Cold War period. Missal recounts how Western scholars collaborated with Eastern European dissidents to share forbidden ideas under oppressive regimes. These ideas weren’t necessarily political but spanned topics such as the philosophy of history, logic, and epistemology, as totalitarian regimes perceive any form of critical thinking as a threat.

Clandestine networks, like the Inter-University Centre in Dubrovnik, were established in the 1970s to support dissident academics in countries like Czechoslovakia. These networks facilitated the smuggling of philosophical texts and ideas, challenging the restrictions oppressive regimes placed on intellectual freedom. As the subtitle notes, the author was “one of them”—one of the Western philosophers who contributed to this underground intellectual exchange.

I find this story particularly inspiring today because it underscores the power of intellectual solidarity and resistance in the face of authoritarianism. It resonates (unfortunately) deeply as we witness the rise of fascist ideologies and anti-intellectualism that similarly seek to undermine open discourse and critical thinking.

The Cold War-era underground universities exemplify how knowledge can serve as a tool of defiance against totalitarian control, and how intellectual exchange can transcend borders and ideologies. This story also reminds us of the resilience and courage required to protect truth and freedom, offering inspiration for new fights to resist authoritarian tendencies through education and collaboration.

I believe this balance is ever-present and necessary in even the smallest aspects of daily life, especially for those of us active on social media. How do I navigate the content I choose to consume—an intentional act of curation in itself—and the content I aim to create? For me, this question is even more present in my professional life, so I’ll focus on that dimension, as it might offer more clarity.

In the context of doctoral research, the areas we want to explore often feel vast and overwhelming. It’s easy to get lost in a sea of history, theory, and practice. Yet the key to overcoming this paralysis and moving toward creation—in this case, writing and producing new knowledge—is focus. Etymologically, the word “curating” originates from the Latin curare, meaning “to take care of.” Delimiting and delineating what we read and consume is itself an act of care, as through this process, we clear out the mental space necessary for creation.

The same principle applies to exhibition-making, where the balance between curating and creating becomes even more tangible. Selecting and arranging works of art in an intuitive, original manner can result in exhibitions that are creations in their own right, sometimes becoming artworks themselves. On a related note, for any art enthusiasts who read French, I recommend the book Habiter l’exposition – L’artiste et la scénographie by Mathilde Roman, an exploration of how artists inhabit and shape exhibition spaces, playing between curation and creation.

Read, read, read. I have yet to find a better exercise to cultivate taste than immersing yourself in books. By now, many of us have realized that when consuming short-form video content, we often find ourselves drawn to the most tasteless things—no offense to content creators, as this is often a strategy for virality.

But reading, particularly books, operates differently. It’s hard, if not impossible, to spend hours or sift through hundreds of pages on something we’re not genuinely interested in. Reading demands a certain self-awareness—it helps us discern what feels truly worth our time and attention. This process of intuitively knowing what resonates and what doesn’t is intimately tied to the development of taste. It’s an honest, because private, exploration of what moves us, challenges us, and lingers in our minds after we’ve closed the book.

Kant described taste as a judgment about the beauty of something, be it a representation or a natural reality. This judgment, he argued, is inherently subjective, as it arises from how a person is affected by an object, image, or idea. I think reading sharpens this ability to judge, to feel, and to respond, nurturing our sensitivity to beauty and meaning. So, if you’re looking to refine your taste, you can start with the simple act of reading. Choose works that challenge and inspire you. Taste, I believe, is as much about knowing ourselves as it is about the things we admire.

Read more of Monica’s writing here.