Sydney bird photographer Leila Jeffreys on portraiture at human scale, the Arctic, slow-motion flight, Antarctica with the Australian Antarctic Division, and her forthcoming Thames & Hudson book.

Oskar Zieta did not decide what inflated steel would look like. He discovered that inflated steel has its own formal logic, and then he spent decades learning to collaborate with it. Two flat sheets of stainless steel are laser-cut, welded at their edges, and then inflated with air pressure until they find their own three-dimensional form. He calls it a controlled loss of control. MoMA calls it a collection. The Vitra Design Museum calls it a collection. Centre Pompidou calls it a collection. The Kraken, his latest work, is a giant steel squid.

He scored Bridgerton, recomposed Bach, collaborated with Ed Sheeran and Rag'n'Bone Man. Now Peter Gregson wants to bring you right up close to the bow on the string. A conversation about Patina, tactility, and why he only works in the mornings.

She builds the soundscape first. Then the image emerges from it. RCA London graduate Liang-Hsin Huang — Taichung, Taiwan — on animation as poetry, Szymborska's elegies, river of fireflies, and why her only job is to reveal.

He finds titles in dictionaries. He prefers drawings to photographs. He keeps the phone at home when he walks the dog. Matthew F. Fisher — Pollock-Krasner grantee, NYFA fellow, solo shows at Taymour Grahne, SHRINE and Ochi Projects — on painting, patience, and why humor is the life of living.

She completed a Master's in Botany, questioned the academic path, and ended up painting in the same London house as Piet Mondrian. Özlem Thompson on colour, imperfection, and why the universe we don't yet understand is the most interesting subject of all.

He grew up with the sounds of the Sicilian sea and always carries his camera. His signature: the face you can almost see. NSIRIES — Alessio Maria Ciacio, Bologna — on instinct, mystery, and the feeling that opens the doors of imagination

She puts bells on her fingers because they fit like they were made for them. She puts sprouts behind her ear. A petal becomes an extension of the tongue. Maria Luneva, Moscow, 23 — on nature, transformation, and the adventure of finding beauty in the ordinary.