The French fashion designer’s lavish Mediterranean villa was frequented by everyone from Dalí to Garbo to Stravinsky to Churchill. It has now been lovingly restored – with a thrillingly bolstered library

It is the place where Salvador Dalí painted The Enigma of Hitler, a haunting landscape featuring a giant telephone receiver that seems to be crying a tear over a cutout picture of the Fuhrer. Conceived in 1939, the work seems to anticipate war. It is also the place where Winston Churchill penned parts of his multi-volume A History of the English-Speaking Peoples, and painted its dappled-light view. Somerset Maugham would visit, too, as well as novelist Colette, composer Igor Stravinsky and playwright Jean Cocteau, partaking in lunches that lasted all day and night, with debates and discussions around artistic ideas.

This place is La Pausa: the Mediterranean villa in the hills of Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, once owned by husband-and-wife writing duo Charles Norris Williamson and Alice Muriel Williamson, followed by French fashion designer Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel, who had it rebuilt from scratch at the end of the 1920s. She later sold it to an American publishing couple, Emery and Wendy Reves.

San San F Young’s passionate documentary records a vibrant creative scene that continues to resist Beijing’s repression

Dotted with towering corporate skyscrapers, the skyline of Hong Kong attests to its global reputation as a financial hub; this image is profoundly challenged by San San F Young’s passionate documentary. Turning her camera to the streets and taking us into artists’ studios, the film-maker captures the vibrant creative scene of the city. The turmoil of the protests against the 2019 Hong Kong extradition bill, along with the draconian laws that followed, hangs heavy over every frame. In the midst of political turbulence, art emerges as a powerful, transformative tool of collective resistance.

In an engaging and personable voiceover, Young weaves in stories from her own life growing up in Hong Kong as a rebellious teenager. Surrounded by bankers and financiers, she yearned to follow the footsteps of her film-making idols, such as Spike Lee, in the west. Her youthful disenchantment only makes Hong Kong Mixtape more moving as a hybrid of autobiography and documentary. We are introduced to a multitalented group of artists, but Young herself is also rediscovering what makes Hong Kong unique and culturally diverse, where activism and creativity go hand in hand. Alongside skilfully graffitied slogans, public electronic displays offer protest songs, raps and skits. Elsewhere, dance troupes create choreography out of banned gestures.

Yes, we love our roasties – but have we really explored the spud’s potential as a gift, an aesthetic, a mood?

All I want for Christmas is … the Nairn Museum potato flask. Showcased as part of the Highland museum’s virtual Advent calendar on Instagram last week, it’s a late-18th-century Staffordshire pottery flask – to be filled with strong drink and used to toast a safe journey for a traveller – shaped like a very realistic, knobbly spud, complete with green bits. The benefactor who donated the flask apparently explained it was so ugly that no one in his family wanted to inherit it.

More than 15,000 Instagram likers beg to differ, including me: I desperately covet this beauteous and useful tuber, surely the ideal emotional support accessory for the season’s more trying social engagements. As the museum’s representative explains, the potato was “seen as a very fashionable vegetable” back then, and I think we need to think hard about that: why isn’t it now? It might be the most valuable player on the Christmas dining table (don’t even think about arguing), but it’s cruelly taken for granted. Have we ever considered the potato as a gift, an aesthetic, a mood?

Culture is not immune from the advances of the hard right – but it isn’t too late for resistance

Into the pale stone wall of the Kennedy Center, above its elegant terrace on the edge of the Potomac river, are carved bold and idealistic sentiments. “This country cannot afford to be materially rich and spiritually poor. To further the appreciation of culture among all the people, to increase respect for the creative individual, to widen participation by all the processes and fulfillments of art – this is one of the fascinating challenges of these days.” Those are the words of John F Kennedy, after whom the US’s national performing arts centre is named. The impulse to build it came from Dwight D Eisenhower; it was given JFK’s name after his assassination; and it opened in 1971, to the music of Leonard Bernstein and the choreography of Alvin Ailey, in the presidency of Richard Nixon. The Kennedy Centre, in short, was designed to be bipartisan, a place of gathering for Democrats and Republicans alike, a proud showcase of the best of America’s dance, opera and music.

For 50 years it carefully trod that line, its board balanced by members of Congress from both sides of the political divide. But it turns out it can take just months to unravel half a century of high-minded purpose.

Charlotte Higgins is the Guardian’s chief culture writer

Trump praises Vince Haley, his ex-speechwriter tasked with creating Arc de Triomphe knockoff amid affordability crisis

Amid concerns that he has failed to address a worsening affordability crisis, with health insurance premiums about to spike dramatically for over 20 million Americans, Donald Trump revealed on Sunday that his domestic policy chief’s main priority is building a triumphal arch for Washington DC.

Speaking at a White House holiday party, the president praised Vince Haley, his former speechwriter and a longtime aide to Newt Gingrich who now leads the White House Domestic Policy Council.

This spectacular image taken in Sakrisøy, Norway, triggered accusations that it was simply too good to be true

Yuan Li splits his time between two careers: in the winter, he works as a ski instructor; in summer, a photographer. When he took this image, Beijing-based Li was visiting Norway and Iceland with friends, on a trip focused on sightseeing and photographing the aurora borealis. He captured this picture while exploring Sakrisøy, a small island in Lofoten, Norway. In the foreground sits this distinctive yellow homestay; in the background, Olstinden mountain.

“It had snowed heavily all day,” Li recalls. “As I was setting up to capture this scene, the snow stopped and the sun came out, which made the perfect environment for taking photos.”

Russian airstrikes on Kyiv, floods in Indonesia, the IDF in Gaza and the Nutcracker in Nairobi: the past seven days as captured by the world’s leading photojournalists

The UK art world is finally becoming more inclusive. But greater support must be given to the organisations that enable disabled artists to flourish

The Turner prize is no stranger to sparking debate or pushing boundaries. This year it has achieved both. For the first time, an artist with learning disabilities has won. Glasgow-born Nnena Kalu took the award for her colourful, cocoon-like sculptures made from VHS tape, clingfilm and other abandoned materials, along with her large swirling vortex drawings. Kalu is autistic, with limited verbal communication. In an acceptance speech on her behalf, Kalu’s facilitator, Charlotte Hollinshead, said that “a very stubborn glass ceiling” had been broken.

Kalu’s win is a high-profile symbol of a shift towards greater inclusivity that has been happening in the UK arts world over the past five years. Last month, Beyond the Visual opened at the Henry Moore Institute, Leeds, in which everything is curated or created by blind and partially sighted artists. The exhibits range from Moore sculptures (which visitors are encouraged to touch) to David Johnson’s 10,000 stone-plaster digestive biscuits stamped with braille. Design and Disability at the V&A South Kensington is showcasing the ways in which disabled, deaf and neurodivergent people have shaped culture from the 1940s to now.

Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.

The brutalist arts-and-towers complex, where even great explorers get lost, is showing its age. Let’s hope the 50th anniversary upgrade is better than the ‘pointillist stippling’ tried in the 1990s

The Barbican is aptly named. From the Old French barbacane, it historically means a fortified gateway forming the outer line of defence to a city or castle. London’s Barbican marks the site of a medieval structure that would have defended an important access point. Its architecture was designed to repel. Some might argue, as they stumble out of Barbican tube station and gaze upwards, not much has changed in the interim.

The use of the word “barbican” was in decline in this country until the opening in 1982 of the Barbican Arts Centre. Taking 20 years to build, it completed the modernist megastructure of the Barbican Estate, grafted on to a huge tract of land devastated by wartime bombing. The aim was to bring life back to the City through swish new housing, energised by the presence of culture. Nonetheless, the arts centre, the elusive minotaur at the heart of the concrete labyrinth, was always farcically difficult to locate. To this day, visitors are obliged to trundle along the Ariadne’s thread of the famous yellow line, inscribed in what seemed like an act of institutional desperation, across concrete hill and dale.

The Guardian’s picture editors select photographs from around the world

With its soaring ceilings, meandering pathways and mesh-like walls, Taichung Art Museum, designed by Sanaa, sweeps visitors from library to gallery to rooftop garden for rousing views

Walking through the brand new Taichung Art Museum in central Taiwan, directions are kind of an abstract concept. Designed by powerhouse Japanese architecture firm Sanaa, the complex is a collection of eight askew buildings, melding an art museum and municipal library, encased in silver mesh-like walls, with soaring ceilings and meandering pathways.

Past the lobby – a breezy open space that is neither inside nor out – the visitor wanders around paths and ramps, finding themselves in the library one minute and a world-class art exhibition the next. A door might suddenly step through to a skybridge over a rooftop garden, with sweeping views across Taichung’s Central Park, or into a cosy teenage reading room. Staircases float on the outside of buildings, floor levels are disparate, complementing a particular space’s purpose and vibe rather than having an overall consistency.

This week’s best wildlife photographs from around the world

The Guardian’s picture editors select photographs from around the world