Before the West gave it a name, the earth was already being honored. Long before "land art" entered the vocabulary of galleries and critics, South Asian hands were already at work — at thresholds, in courtyards, at the edge of the sacred and the everyday — drawing circles in rice flour and flower petals, tracing the shape of the universe onto the ground before sunrise. Not as monument. Not as statement. As offering. The mandala. The word itself comes from Sanskrit: circle, di

From the gentle earth mounds of Ana Mendieta to the regenerative gardens of Mary Mattingly, environmental art frequently employs acts of nurturing. These works value process over product, community over ego, decay over permanence. They mirror the rhythms of seasons, the cycles of birth and death, and the tactile labor of sustaining life. In a world that undervalues care ,especially when performed by women, femmes, or racialized bodies — this turn toward slow, caring art can b

In many mainstream narratives, environmental art is still overwhelmingly framed through a Western, often Euro-American lens: one rooted in post-industrial critique, aestheticized landscape interventions, and conceptual provocations. But long before "eco-art" became a contemporary genre, Indigenous communities across the globe were cultivating deep, reciprocal relationships with the land , relationships based not on extraction, but on reverence, regeneration, and knowledge pas

I have called myself an activist. I have named the wound and stood beside it. But there are days — and I will not pretend otherwise — when the knowing becomes too heavy to carry upright, when the mind retreats into a merciful fog just to survive the weight of what we have done and what we have refused to do. The crisis is real. The earth is telling us so in the only language it has left: heat, flood, erasure. And still, for those of us settled comfortably in the Global North

Art has the power to move beyond aesthetics and create change. At Thursdays, we explore how curators can present work that amplifies marginalized voices, challenges injustice, and invites audiences to reflect, engage, and act.

Starting Thursdays was never about adding another art platform to an already crowded digital landscape. It emerged instead from a familiar tension in the contemporary art world: the persistent gap between who is making work and who is given space to be seen. While traditional galleries continue to privilege established names and market-driven trajectories, emerging and underrepresented artists are often left navigating visibility on their own. Thursdays exists to shift that f