Sofia Coppola, from Archive (MACK, 2023). Courtesy of the artist and MACK.
The art we consume is dreamed up of visionaries and, in turn, the art they create shape our worldview. After a summer of ‘girlhood’ centric art and the term being thrown about over social media, it’s integral to note one filmmaker who has been shining a light on the myriad stages of womanhood for years: Sofia Coppola.
For over two decades the celebrated filmmaker has showcased and celebrated the intricacies of growing up as depicted in The Virgin Suicides to her own view of celebrity culture and wealth, as seen in The Bling Ring. Her own cinematic universe opened a world for young people who first were exposed to her films through social media and blogs to gain an interest in film. Now, with the release of Sofia Coppola: Archive published by MACK, everyone can dive into Coppola’s creative process.
At the start of Archive, Coppola talks about the collection of trinkets and mementos she ends up gaining once one of her projects wraps. From notes to photos to scripts, the collection turns into a kaleidoscope of Coppola’s career — a true archive of her work as a filmmaker that readers and film lovers alike now get to indulge in. The extensive look of her career spans across all of her feature films, beginning with the cult classic The Virgin Suicides to 2023’s Priscilla, including everything from Polaroid images from sets to screenshots of emails sent by Presley herself.
Leaning entirely on Coppola’s artefacts as the driving creative force behind the book, Joseph Logan and Anamaria Morris incorporated splashes of pink, the director’s favourite colour, to tie all the sections together. The start of Archive includes a moving interview with famed film journalist Lynn Hirschberg to who Coppola says: “Across all my films, there is a common quality: there is always a world and there is always a girl trying to navigate it. That’s the story that will always intrigue me.”
Edited and annotated by Coppola, Archive is a dream realised for both the filmmaker and her devoted fans. Now, rather than dreaming of what it must be like to be inside Sofia Coppola’s mind, they can see it for themselves.
Sofia Coppola, from Archive (MACK, 2023). Courtesy of the artist and MACK.
Sofia Coppola, from Archive (MACK, 2023). Courtesy of the artist and MACK.
Sofia Coppola, from Archive (MACK, 2023). Courtesy of the artist and MACK.
Sofia Coppola, from Archive (MACK, 2023). Courtesy of the artist and MACK.
Sofia Coppola, from Archive (MACK, 2023). Courtesy of the artist and MACK.
Archive (2023) by Sofia Coppola, published by MACK, is available now.
For Berlin-based visual storyteller Foli Creppy, music plays a different but equally essential role. Born in Benin and shaped by movement, rhythm, and image, his creative process lives somewhere between control and surrender. “When I’m in a flow state, I don’t feel like I’m directing anymore,” he says for Schön!’s profile series. “I feel like a vessel — like being on a dance floor.” It’s one of the few moments where he feels completely free.
That openness is deeply personal. After initiation with the babalawos in Benin, Foli received the name Deze, a name that reflects who he is at his core. It’s a reminder that identity isn’t fixed, but carried, learned, and embodied over time. Berlin’s creative scene, he says, is strange, ambitious, and full of characters; a place where contrasts coexist. For Foli, every culture holds something to learn from, something you can move with rather than against.
He’s not trying to fit a mold, only to show up as himself. Music, in particular, grounds him.Marshall’s Major V headphones allow him to remain immersed, focused, and connected to the sound while navigating the city. Whether walking, observing, or creating, they offer a private space where ideas can form and flow uninterrupted. Music has always found ways to guide creative instinct. What creators and storytellers like Foli share is a belief in giving that instinct free rein, whether it’s to wander, to absorb, or to become something entirely new. “I believe that in every culture there are things you can use to your advantage, things you can learn from places and from people. I’m simply trying to be who I am.”
top + hat. Talent’s Own
skirt. AUTEL Studio
shirt. Mowalola
hat. Kangol
custom-made jewellery in ghana. Talent’s Own
opposite
headphones. Marshall MAJOR V
top, hat + custom-made jewellery in ghana. Talent’s Own
shirt. AUTEL Studio
hat + custom-made jewellery in ghana. Talent’s Own
left to right
headphones. Marshall MONITOR III A.N.C.
top + hat. Talent’s Own
headphones. Marshall MONITOR III A.N.C.
shirt + trousers. AUTEL Studio
hat + custom-made jewellery in ghana. Talent’s Own
top + hat. Talent’s Own
It is a bit of a cheek to ask who owns a circle, isn’t it? But for Adam Pendleton – the man currently occupying the high altar of American abstraction – it’s the only question worth asking. If you’ve spent any time in the world’s major galleries lately, you’ll know Pendleton as the architect of ‘Black Dada,’ a conceptual whirlwind of monochrome spray paint and layered history.
Today marks the final curtain call for ‘Who Owns Geometry Anyway?’ at Friedman Benda gallery in New York. Since opening its doors on 7 November, this exhibition has seen Pendleton swap the frantic, spray-painted energy of his canvases for materials with significantly more gravity.
Speaking to the press, Pendleton revealed: “What is exciting and interesting about this exhibition is that the works being shown are ideas I had for a very long time, but had never given myself the agency to execute.”
Ranging from marble and onyx to granite and wood, these materials are transposed into what the gallery politely calls “functional forms,” though they feel more like altars than coffee tables. Take the aptly named ‘Boulder,’ a two-part marble work that doubles as a seat and a permanent tectonic shift.
This is also the artist’s first proper foray into furniture, and frankly, it makes a lot of contemporary design look a bit flimsy. Pendleton has taken the basic building blocks of the avant-garde – the triangle, the square and the circle – and realised them with a couturier’s obsessive eye.
The ‘Extended Form’ series, rendered in both honey-hued onyx (‘Extended Form One’) and stark marble (‘Extended Form Two’ and ‘Three’), displays this perfectly. The detailing is exquisite: raised rims trace the edges of massive stone slabs, while legs taper into curves so precise they make the heavy black marble seem like it is levitating.
There is a clever play on displacement too. In pieces like ‘Four Circles’ (crafted from granite) and ‘Split Form’ (marble), the geometry is punctuated by voids, as if he has simply reached into the stone and plucked the mass right out. It is not all cold stone, however; the ‘Two Circles’ (Studio Table) brings stained white oak into the mix, grounding the collection in something warmer, while ‘Drawn’ introduces a shock of modernity – a massive 180-inch loop of aluminium, silicone and LED light that cuts through the space.
Drawing on the philosophy of fellow American artist Isamu Noguchi (who famously said art should be “one with its surroundings”), Pendleton has turned the gallery itself into a ‘social form.’ Massive, hard-edged wall paintings, specifically ‘Black Triangle’ and ‘White Triangle,’ frame the installation creating an architectonic environment for the series of ‘Untitled’ glazed ceramic paintings that embellish the walls.
It has been a massive year for Pendleton. The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) recently acquired his entire 35-work ‘Who Is Queen?’ exhibition in one swoop and he is currently dominating the Hirshhorn in D.C. with a major survey. But this New York show offers something rarer: a chance to see a master of two dimensions figure out how to conquer the third.
From ‘The Nightingale’ to ‘Speak No Evil’, Aisling Franciosi has built a career portraying women haunted by unspoken histories – rage buried beneath grief, tenderness hardened by survival. Now, in Kurt Sutter’s new Western saga ‘The Abandons’, she returns in a different register: quiet power. As Trisha Van Ness, the heiress to a ruthless dynasty, Franciosi plays a woman caught between privilege and entrapment, loyalty and rebellion.
Speaking to Schön!, Franciosi reflects on the volatility of Western narratives, the emotional architecture of ambition, and the thrill – and terror – of stepping into a character whose strength lives not in violence alone, but in restraint.
dress. Alberta Ferretti
opposite
dress. Khyeli
jewellery. Repossi
Trisha Van Ness is fierce, guarded, and caught between loyalty and ambition. When you first met her on the page, what part of her felt closest to you – and what part felt most foreign?
This way of working was quite new to me in that, you know, I signed up to this just having read a pilot. I got to know Trisha’s character as they were writing for her, which is a very new and different way of working for me. I think on the page, I felt that I could really connect with her being underestimated.
She’s underestimated by her family, by her mother in particular, and this frustrates her as she caresses ambition, has a lot to offer. And it’s not only her being shut out of the family’s business, but she feels a complete disconnect in terms of any affection or love from her family. There is a fire that the indignation at being underestimated can bring out in someone; I was curious to see where that would lead her.
You’ve often played women carrying something heavy – grief, trauma, buried rage. How do you locate the soft, human center inside characters shaped by violence?
I think there’s a part of me that finds playing those kinds of characters quite cathartic. In my day-to-day life, I tend to expect myself to be a bit softer and maybe a bit more positive: I don’t necessarily allow myself to express negative emotions so easily. And so I find it extremely rewarding when I get to play these characters who are just letting their rage out in whatever way they need to.
So for me, it’s more about tapping into the rage or the defiance or the indignation. Rather than struggling to find the softness in them, I feel like I myself as a person, can bring a little bit of that to them.
Your performances rely on stillness and interiority – and they speak loudly. Where does that come from?
I don’t have a specific process. And it’s something I used to be a bit embarrassed about, if I was asked, How do you do this? The truth is, I’m not always quite sure. I think the stillness is the only thing I want to try and achieve in a scene, regardless of everything else; it’s something that always feels real for a character, even if the world they exist in is a heightened one. I think this may be my attempt to make the character feel very grounded and real.
dress. Erdem
jewellery. Repossi
‘The Abandons’ is your first Western. Beyond dust and gunfire, was there something in the moral landscape of the frontier that resonated with your life now?
I believe the world is in quite a volatile space right now. And I don’t think it’s any surprise that Westerns are having a real resurgence because they offer a setup we know so well. It’s nostalgic – about good and evil, where there are good guys and bad guys. People find comfort in that.
But if the good guys do something bad, just because they’re the good guys, does it make it any less bad? Being able to look at morality through the lens of a Western can bring a strange comfort.
The Van Ness family is powerful but also secretive and fractured. Did working inside a story about dynastic pressure make you reflect on your own family dynamics or upbringing in any surprising ways?
Playing alongside Gillian (Anderson), I feel so lucky that my mom is my best friend. Mother-daughter relationships can get complex. During shooting, I did find myself thinking, Thank god I have such a good relationship with my mom.
‘The Abandons’ explores territory – literal and emotional. What would you fight to protect?
Family. I think we all like to believe we would behave in very moral ways always, but I could see myself possibly being led astray if it came to protecting my family.
Violence and tenderness coexist in Kurt Sutter’s world. How do you find humanity in that duality?
It comes back to understanding what drives a character – their background, how their stories have shaped them. With Trisha, I wanted to understand her dreams and how she could pursue them in a world so oppressive. The more she leans into what she wants, the more she’s at odds with her environment. To my mind, the drama comes from those things clashing.
Was there a moment on set when you thought, This is new territory?
Something I had never really done was play a character who’s the rich girl in town, someone refined. I don’t usually get those roles. You think of them differently from a scruffy or traumatized character.
Did Trisha leave anything with you after filming wrapped?
I came away thinking again that the relationships you have can really shape the course of how events unfold in your life. When we see Trisha at the end – I can’t give anything away – but you’re left wondering, Oh God, what is she going to do next? If we were to explore further, I’d be very curious where she ends up. But I don’t think every role should leave you feeling like you’ve given yourself away forever.
Women in Westerns are often sidelined or symbolic. What did you want to complicate about this archetype?
With ‘The Abandons’, rules are more lax – it’s the wild West after all. You have this young woman who expects more for herself and doesn’t want to buy into societal expectations. She’s inspired by her mother, who is a badass, yet it’s her mother imposing those very rules on her.
And honestly, Lena (Headey) and Gillian do so much of the heavy lifting in showing that women were very much central to this world.
You’ve spoken about the emotional toll of ‘The Nightingale’. Did a large-scale ensemble like ‘The Abandons’ shift something for you creatively?
With ‘The Nightingale’, I had months to get the character in my bones. Heavy material, yes, but incredibly satisfying. With ‘The Abandons’, I was discovering my character while filming. It’s a new skill – learning how to bring artistic merit to very different kinds of productions.
You return again and again to psychologically complex women. What part of you keeps gravitating there?
I think it’s a combination of being satisfied with those roles and the industry seeing you do something well, so they think of you only that way. And as long as the writing is good, I’m not going to turn something down just because it’s dark. But recently I’ve had chances with comedy with ‘Twinless’, which was my first. I didn’t always know what I was doing, but I really enjoyed it. Some of the parts I’ve been given have spoiled me – ‘The Nightingale’, especially. It stretched me so much. And I feel very lucky for that. I never want to not acknowledge that.
