
Ousmane Dembele pays tribute to Diogo Jota with heartfelt celebration after scoring in Club World Cup
The Paris Saint-Germain forward mimicked Jota's trademark gaming celebration after netting in his side's 2-0 Club World Cup quarter-final win over Bayern Munich.
Tributes have flooded in from across the football world for Jota, 28, and his brother Andre Silva, 26, after their tragic deaths in the early hours of Thursday morning.
His former Liverpool team-mates and manager Arne Slot were in attendance at his funeral in Gondomar, Portugal on Saturday.
Former Portugal team-mate Pedro Neto displayed a shirt in tributes to the pair before Chelsea 's 2-1 win over Palmeiras, while Joao Cancelo and Ruben Neves welled up with tears before Al-Hilal's 2-1 defeat by Fluminense.
Dembele and Jota were never team-mates but the Frenchman was still eager to remember him, copying the gaming celebration which the Liverpool star famously whipped out after scoring a 94th-minute winner against Tottenham in 2023.
More to follow.
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The Guardian
22 minutes ago
- The Guardian
‘Free of human logic': the modern artists inspired by surrealism's 100-year-old parlour game
Some time in the winter of 1925-1926, the French author André Breton and his comrades Yves Tanguy, Jacques Prévert and Marcel Duchamp invented an old-fashioned parlour game. You write a word on a piece of paper, then fold it over so the next person can't see what you've written, and you end up with a strange sentence. The game is now known as Exquisite Corpse, after the result of their first go: Le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau (The exquisite corpse will drink the new wine). Exquisite Corpse gave Breton so much joy because it summed up the essence of the surrealist school of art he was trying to articulate at the time. In his first 1924 manifesto, he told budding surrealists to put themselves in 'as passive, or receptive, a state of mind' as they can and write quickly. Forget about talent, about subject, about perception or punctuation. Simply trust, he writes, 'in the inexhaustible nature of the murmur'. In the year of its centenary, the spirit of Breton's Exquisite Corpse is not just un-dead but frantically rattling the lid of its coffin from the inside. Several modern artists are continuing the surrealist tradition by composing with found materials (words, images, objects), drawn from the accidental debris of the everyday, to make the unexpected. For a recent show at Frith Street Gallery, the British artist Fiona Banner showed works made with discarded mannequin parts she'd found in an abandoned Topshop in north-west England. In a film, titled DISARM (Portrait), she has emblazoned words like 'disarm' on arms, 'obsolete' on soles, and 'delegation' on legs. At first she thought of it as a concrete poem or a Breton-esque poème objet. Then she realised, she says, that 'actually, it's more liquid than concrete'. For Banner, the power of Exquisite Corpse, 'its radical space', lies not in the finished sentence but on that fold. 'I think to not understand is a very important space,' she says. 'To be free of human logic.' Dimitri Rataud, a French actor turned artist, whose work is now on show at HIS Paris gallery, makes what he calls 'haikus marinières': surrealist-inspired concrete poems he finds by blacking out most of the words on a ripped-out page of a random book. The name itself is a word play: the pieces look like Breton tops AKA marinières because of the stripes. And the poems (et soudain … le bonheur – 'and suddenly … happiness') are as light as a feather on the breeze. The printed word, which he handles like a builder might a brick, is useful raw material. And each poem is but a moment. Rataud starts by tearing the cover off the book then opening it on the last page. He can never do the same thing twice. To his gallery's dismay, he refuses to make copies. Rataud is popular on Instagram, and you can of course see why: Breton tops, French romance, Japanese minimalism. And yet, these found poems are luminous, in the way they balance on that paper-thin edge between accident and intention. 'I've found extremely beautiful haikus in sordid books.' For the Paris surrealists of the 1920s – crawling out of the wreckage of the first world war – nonsense was a deadly serious matter. When the Centre Pompidou's exhibition, Surréalisme (a touring mega-show currently at the Hamburger Kunsthalle), opened in September 2024, co-curator Marie Sarré described the centennial movement as one of the most politically engaged of the avant gardes. 'Throughout its history, the political and the poetic ran in parallel,' she said. 'It wasn't an artistic movement or a formalism, but a collective adventure and a philosophy.' Contrary to other avant garde movements which embraced the notion of progress, it questioned everything. The surrealists were among the first anticolonialists, the staunchest anti-fascists, proponents of social revolution and proto-eco warriors. 'They asked the questions artists today are asking,' said Sarré. To wit, Malaysian-born artist Heman Chong, whose work is currently on show at the Singapore Art Museum. This survey exhibition is organised into nine categories: words, whispers, ghosts, journeys, futures, findings, infrastructures, surfaces and endings. One piece, 'This pavilion is strictly for community bonding activities only', reproduces a sign Chong found in a communal space within one of Singapore's Housing and Development Board block of flats. 'The sentence itself is nuts, right?' he says. 'That you would insist on community bonding activities, which means, literally, you cannot be there alone, right? Because you can't bond with anyone alone.' By contrast, he often makes installations with things people could secrete away – stacks of postcards; mountains of sentences from spy novels shredded on to the floor; a library of unread books. 'I would love it if people just take things out of their own accord,' says Chong. 'Coming from Singapore, which is an extremely paternalistic, authoritarian state, a lot of my work is not about telling people what they cannot do.' In November 2024, South Africa-based Nhlanhla Mahlangu, who is a long-term collaborator of William Kentridge, gave a performance lecture titled Chant for Disinheriting Apartheid. It collates several spoken word compositions and improvised works, which delve into the brutal flattening of colonial oppression: language stolen, names mangled, bodies which have learned to recognise different guns by the sounds they make. In one section, he performs, one by one, various unrelated sentences in the languages of isiZulu, Sesotho, Xitsonga, Venda, Xhosa. And then, 'the language of apartheid'. He stands stock still, in total silence, for two whole minutes. He recounts doing a workshop with children from Hillbrow, a part of inner Johannesburg beset by high crime and intense poverty. They were working on a performance of Aimé Césaire's 1939 masterwork, Return to My Native Land – a gut punch of a poem against colonialism, which Breton called 'the greatest lyrical monument of this time'. Mahlangu's students, who were witnessing crime and death and abandonment on the way to class, said: 'We experience surrealisms every day. We don't understand why people go to universities and study it. Our lives are surreal.' 'Surrealism offers ways to look awry at things,' says Patricia Allmer, an art historian at the Edinburgh College of Art. She recently co-curated The Traumatic Surreal at the Henry Moore Institute in Leeds. 'Because you can't encounter trauma head on, you have to find ways of seeing it, either as a distortion, through a distorting lens or from the side.' For Mahlangu, it is about 'bringing fluidity to what seems stable, and understanding that stability can be a weakness. It's constantly not answering the question, but questioning the answers, asking more questions.' In the 21st century, we may have grown wary of 'isms' in art. In a climate of constant technological and economic interruption, the promise of a transformative cultural revolution can feel suspicious; the most powerful movement in modern art, contended a recent article in the Art Newspaper, may be the art market itself. But it's worth remembering that when Breton first wrote about his ideas in 1924, he didn't think of it as a manifesto, just a preface to a book of poems he wanted to publish. And that's why Exquisite Corpse sums up surrealism's most lasting legacy to modern art today: a tool that taps you into something unexplored, a game for 'pure young people who refuse to knuckle down'.


Times
31 minutes ago
- Times
England must start Grace Clinton in midfield to avoid being bullied again
E ngland need to treat Saturday's loss to France like a splash of cold water in the face. France looked sharper, won the midfield battle and bullied Sarina Wiegman's side. With the Netherlands awaiting on Wednesday, England must learn quickly. And then, to use another metaphor, they should put the France game in the bin. The camp appeared settled going into the match and I think England lost purely for footballing reasons, rather than because of any disharmony or the chaotic build-up during which Mary Earps, Fran Kirby and Millie Bright stepped away. Togetherness is one of England's biggest strengths and they cannot damage their unity by dwelling on this defeat. Instead, England must focus on Wednesday's huge game. Lose to the Netherlands and they are all but knocked out, while a win would put their campaign back on track. It's a precarious position.


Daily Mail
33 minutes ago
- Daily Mail
Adwoa Aboah reveals she was secretly pregnant while filming sex scenes in Lena Dunham's new series Too Much - as she poses with co-star Emily Ratajkowski in sexy shoot
Adwoa Aboah has revealed that she was secretly pregnant while filming racy sex scenes in Lena Dunham 's new series Too Much as she posed with her co-star Emily Ratajkowski in a sexy shoot on Monday. The pair both star in the upcoming 10-parter and this week spoke to NET-A-PORTER's digital title, PORTER for their latest cover story about making the project. Too Much follows Jessica (Megan Stalter), who moves from New York to London after a breakup and meets new love interest Felix (Will Sharpe). Model turned actress Adwoa, 33, plays Felix's other love interest Linnea in the series and has described filming some of her first scenes where she was wearing an S&M outfit. She told the publication: 'My first scene where you're introduced to me was this weird sex scene with Will, and Lena directing it. 'Doing that while pregnant was so mad, but it was also great that it was my secret that no one knew. When I tell my child, they're gonna be like, that is so crazy, you know?' She added: 'I just had the absolute best day, and [Lena] lets you play and improvise. Will is just so easy to act off.' She welcomed her first child Shy last year with her partner Daniel Wheatley. For the cover shoot Adwoa and model and actress Emily, 34, both posed together in matching black bodysuits. As Emily spoke in the interview she delved back into her modelling past as she admitted she now feels that fashion is quite 'performative'. She added that she thinks it's shocking that models don't have a union and that often young girls are 'being taken advantage of' in the industry. For her solo shots she showed off her incredible figure in a black bra and briefs set while in another she slipped into a white bodysuit. Emily is set to star in a new Netflix series titled Too Much, which has been created by Girls icon Lena. The series is scheduled to be released on Netflix on July 10th, with the model playing a character named Wendy in the series - the glamorous new girlfriend of main character Jessica's ex. The star was given creative control while filming the new series, which she explained was something she really 'valued.' She recently told ELLE: 'In my twenties, I didn't have a lot of it in my career. Now, I like making things and I like not being an addition to them. She said of the scene: 'Doing that while pregnant was so mad, but it was also great that it was my secret that no one knew. When I tell my child, they're gonna be like, that is so crazy, you know?' 'With Lena, I got to shape the character so much, which was really fun. It gave me a bigger role than just an actor for hire.' Elaborating on her experience on set, she said: 'Lena leans into some of the more 'feminine' ways of directing – over communication, consideration of everyone on set. 'Instead of being this domineering presence, her power lies in grace and in the ability to make everyone feel comfortable.' Last month Lena candidly reflected on her 'last affair' ahead of her semi-autobiographical Netflix series. In a story for British Vogue 's July issue, the writer and producer, 39, admitted to 'wrecking herself on male attention' before finding love with her husband Luis Felber. Lena and Luis, 38, met in January 2021 on a blind date - after being set up by friends - and tied the knot in September 2021. But before meeting her husband and finally getting her 'happy ending,' the actress recalled her 'boy craziness' that led her to 'stop trusting herself.' She explained: 'Even now, I can't be sure. It's not that I don't trust my husband or our life – I do, very much. Too Much follows Jessica (Megan Stalter), who moved from New York to London after a breakup and meets new love interest Felix (Will Sharpe) (both seen in recent trailer) 'It's that at some point along the way, wrecking myself again and again on the rocky shores of male attention, I stopped trusting myself.' Lena previously explained why she cast Megan Stalter instead of herself in her semi-autobiographical series Too Much. 'I was not willing to have another experience like what I'd experienced around [my HBO series Girls] at this point in my life,' the producer-star explained to the New Yorker. 'Physically, I was just not up for having my body dissected again. It was a hard choice, not to cast Meg — because I knew I wanted Meg — but to admit that to myself. I used to think that winning meant you just keep doing it and you don't care what anybody thinks. I forgot that winning is actually just protecting yourself and doing what you need to do to keep making work.' Lena continued: 'I remember looking at Meg and being, like, "You are my muse. You inspire me every single day to go home and tap out pages upon pages." I definitely don't want to be my own muse.'