A piece of walking art takes shape through decisions about movement and attention, whether made by the artist, or the person experiencing the work. A pause changes what becomes audible. An instruction makes a familiar street different, perhaps difficult, to navigate. A recorded voice places a history alongside a building that provides no outward signs

i What not only feels like, but really was, a different time, Prince sang of a man dying of a big disease with a little name. This was 1986. The year after, in 1987, the US registered a bit over 13000 deaths from complications related to HIV/AIDS. In the US, the HIV/AIDS epidemic peaked in

I recently came back from the longest walk I have ever taken in my life. The longest in terms of days, kilometres, and nights spent camping. It took me about three weeks just to cool down, and slowly return to my normal life.That was one month ago, and I am still recovering. This article could

It felt as if we were constantly stepping on this “ghost of water”. Life had been built and swept away here over the centuries, and something of those other lives hovered around us.

Walking through places generates mental images we carry with us: glimpses of where we were and what we did. But can we be sure of that? Think of the image you carry of a place you’ve walked: its colours, how it unfolded, its texture, its sound. Always slipping, always being remade, but it’s perhaps in this very impossibility of holding it still that the poetics of walking lies. For almost 20 years, artist Yannis Ziogas has curated Visual Marches to Prespes, a nomadic project re-exploring the area tri-bordering Greece, Albania and North Macedonia. Here, walking art goes beyond the object to become ‘a locus in which places, ideas and images’ come alive through the embodied experience of walkers. This contribution looks back at photographs gathered along this journey, and on how they resist fixity; never settled, never still, always in the process of finding their form.

A despatch from our story-writer-in-residence Penny Walker. 8th September 2026, Paradise Fields, Ealing, half a mile. It has been raining hard all morning and into the afternoon, but now we are at the gate, in the early evening, the sun is out. We wear our sensible footwear, raincoats, some of us have binoculars.  In this small

In 2021, walk · listen · create published A DIY toolkit for digital sound walks. Five years is a long time in locative media. Some of the tools in that survey have closed, some have been absorbed by larger companies, and others still have a website but are no longer realistic options for a new creator.

An attempt at characterising 76 works in the WLC archive suggests that walking art makes urban conditions perceptible in ways that conventional walkability measures rarely do. Through altered routes, sensory attention, collective movement and counter-mapping, these pieces expose the histories, power relations, ecological conditions and embodied constraints that shape how space can be inhabited.

A walk is shaped not only by where it leads, but by who takes part. In Beveren, encounters with residents of De Bron and De Stroom show how different bodies, rhythms and vulnerabilities make walking a shared practice of attention, care and belonging.

Among the Hannah Arendt Papers at the Library of Congress in Washington is a small collection of coloured envelopes once addressed to Walter Benjamin. They were sent to 10 rue Dombasle, Paris. Orange, yellow, pale blue. Today they are empty, but their surfaces are covered in tiny handwriting: corrected sentences, crossings-out, additions. Benjamin had reused

This article first appeared in Anima Loci. Unfolding through the city of Guimarães, Portugal, The Walking Body is an artistic research programme that explores collective walking as a methodology for situated knowledge, creative inquiry and engagement with place. Taking place across three consecutive editions (2024–2026), the programme has generated a range of artistic outputs: from drawings to

A despatch from our story-writer-in-residence Penny Walker. 13 July 2026, Southport to Tarleton, 13 miles The air is wobbling over the flat land which grows pale brown grass out of grey-red soil.  Sweat and suncream on my glasses make me lose focus. I cannot make sense of it. Dry, bone dry, both sides of the flood