Reading about stalagim, porn comics published in Israel in the sixties describing "sadistic relations between beautiful Nazi women, who commanded Third Reich prison camps, and their tortured prisoners" reminds me of how the heart of darkness we so often deny and yet seek to explore, excite and ultimately exorcise, can reside not only in the loftiest tomes but also in the lowest pulp artifacts.

Joi Ito on privacy at Ars Electronica earlier this month.

Made from mashed-up archive footage from the last fifty or so years, and a cast of remixed political celebrities, The Voice is a film about a geo-political world in which cross-faith fundamentalists have come together under one state to combat alien culture.

Monocle aside, the only print magazine I indulge in is Vogue Italia.

Steven Meisel is one of the main reasons.

If I were ever to make time capsules out of cardboard boxes his visual narratives would be chucked in as idiosyncratic chronicles of our times, together with box sets of the Simpsons.

In his latest shoot, make love not war, the porn of war is dressed in the most glamorous nihilism.