Being an athlete is tough, especially if you’re an Olympian. They sacrifice their time and bodies in order to achieve peak physical condition. There is also the mental pressure to compete against the best. The last thing they should worry about is being objectified and sexualized online.
With this in mind, the European Broadcasting Union wants to help. They offered a booklet to broadcasters titled Raising the Bar: Guidelines for respectful media coverage in women’s athletics. The 23-page guide shows how camera placement choices and editing could potentially compromise an athlete. It also offers broadcasters guidelines for how to set up camera shots and show slow-motion replays that won’t sexualize or present athletes in undignified poses.
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Focusing on the sport, reducing harassment
These guidelines come as multiple stories about women athletes being harassed online have surfaced. Many misogynistic posts about athletes have come from slow motion footage focused on certain parts of the athlete’s body.
“The sexualization of women athletes through selective camera angles and editing choices continues to be a significant concern across many sports broadcasts,” wrote Glen Killane, executive director of EBU Sport in the booklet. “Lingering shots on bodies, low-angle cameras that capture revealing views, and excessive slow-motion replays that serve no technical or storytelling purpose are among the issues observed in the media coverage of women’s athletics competitions today.”
These new broadcast guidelines and suggestions are backed by Serbian long jumper Ivana Španović, British Olympic pole vaulter Holly Bradshaw, and Croatian high jumper Blanka Vlašić. Vlašić has spoken out regarding the equal visibility of women’s sports. Bradshaw has spoken out against the discomfort and sexualization of Olympic women athletes due to their tight-fitting uniforms.
“I first-hand have received social media abuse and witnessed inappropriate videos online of myself and colleagues when slow motion content of us competing is captured,” wrote Bradshaw in the guide. “Athletes want to enjoy themselves doing the sport they love without feeling uncomfortable or anxious about the footage being shown live. Many athletes, myself included, have been in competitive scenarios where they are more focused on the cameras instead of their own performance.”
What the guide provides
The guide provides visual aids for broadcasters along with insights from the athletes to explain why certain shots would be preferred. Broadcasters are requested to avoid tight shots from the back of athletes. They’re also asked to avoid low camera angles from underneath. They recommend shots above the pelvis or ones that don’t linger onto commonly sexualized areas of the body. They recommend wider shots so the audience can see the technical ability being displayed by the athlete. Overall, the point is to focus on the athletic performance rather than close-ups of the athlete.
Currently, there is no enforcement of these guidelines or penalties if a sports broadcast doesn’t adhere to them. However, there is value in knowing which broadcasts will focus on the athletic contests rather than an athlete’s appearance. This will help the competitors focus on how they do rather than how they look when the cameras are on.
Photo credit: Matthew Bolt // Icon Sportswire via Getty Images – ILLENIUM performs a free concert for fans prior to the start of Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Finals between the Vegas Golden Knights and the Carolina Hurricanes on June 06, 2026 at T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Summer 2026 is shaping up to be one of the densest live music seasons in recent years. From packed festival calendars to a resurgent touring industry, a handful of breakout U.S. states are finally getting the traffic they deserve.
15 of the most concert-dense states in Summer 2026
1. Nevada
Las Vegas leads the nation in concerts per capita in 2026. According to an analysis on the website of Princess Polly, a clothing brand, nearly 3,500 concerts are listed in Las Vegas alone, translating to approximately 150.67 concerts per 100,000 residents. This is undoubtedly the highest concentration in the country. The residency model means the Strip always has something major running, regardless of the season, but the Las Vegas Summer Concert series is the standout event.
2. Tennessee
Nashville ranks second in concert density nationally, with 6.76 venues per 100,000 residents. This is the highest venue density among top-ranked cities and equates to 1,148 concerts in 2026. Bonnaroo’s return to Manchester, Tennessee in June anchors their summer calendar on top of nonstop club and arena action across the entire state.
3. California
California dominates by sheer volume alone. Research from the Recording Industry Association of America counts over 80,433 music establishments in the state, with music contributing more than $51.4 billion to gross domestic product. The summer calendar alone includes Outside Lands in San Francisco, a dense SoCal arena circuit, and Coachella’s long tail of satellite events that carry into the fall.
Chicago’s Lollapalooza remains one of the best-attended urban music festivals across the whole country, with around 100,000 people turning up per day. The city’s venue ecosystem, from the Riviera to the United Center, also keeps the calendar full beyond just a single festival weekend.
6. Texas
Texas punches well above its weight on music infrastructure, with over 127,993 songwriters and $26.6 billion in annual music industry economic output. In fact, it’s second only to California nationally. ACL Fest’s October dates are the main headliner event, but Austin’s live music scene means something notable is happening every weekend.
Atlanta holds the title of “premier U.S. city for music aficionados” according to one 2026 study highlighted by Spin Genie, scoring more than 8.74 points out of 10. The city boasts 188 upcoming events and 577 musical artists per 100,000 residents.
Seattle ranks 10th among top U.S. concert cities with 1,304 concerts listed in 2026. The city’s venue density, anchored by Climate Pledge Arena and a dense club circuit in Capitol Hill, helps to keep national tours running even in the summer months.
11. Louisiana
New Orleans ranks second nationally in SCCG Management’s live music city analysis, and The Big Easy plays host to three major festivals in 2026. With 302 concerts planned and an average concert attendance of 74, the city’s extensive live music culture is on full display this year, anchored by the genuine local community engagement as opposed to tourist capture alone.
12. Minnesota
Minneapolis ranks third among U.S. cities for live music in 2026 per the same SCCG Management study, with two major festivals, 1,055 concerts listed, and an average attendance of 52. The Twin Cities’ independent venue scene, most famous for First Avenue, is truly unmatched.
13. North Carolina: The first breakout state
Asheville has emerged as one of the most-cited breakout music cities in 2026, with more than 61 upcoming concerts and festivals listed on music resource Bandsintown alone, including AVL Sounds Fest in August and MAJACE Festival in July. The city is small enough that shows still feel like unexpected discoveries..
14. Pennsylvania
Pennsylvania supports 114,731 music jobs and generates $6.3 billion in music GDP, ranking among the top six states nationally for music economic contribution. This is spread across Philadelphia’s festival-heavy summer season and Pittsburgh’s growing independent venue scene.
15. Idaho: The second breakout state
Boise is also one of the most-cited “rising” live music markets in the U.S., with 2025 setting concert attendance records and 2026 already tracking to match or exceed them. What makes the city notable isn’t its scale, but the fact that national tours are now coming through as a primary stop.
The music map is changing nationally
The traditional top tier states of Nevada, New York, California, and Tennessee are all holding strong at the top of the list of most-visited states for music. However, the story of summer 2026 is the states on the rise. Colorado’s Red Rocks circuit, Atlanta’s per-capita chokehold, and the emergence of Asheville and Boise as new hot spots show that the live music scene is shifting dramatically.
It begins with the music: a late 1990s rap song. Then someone appears on screen, moving slowly into a pose that can only be called deeply, theatrically serious. Then comes the reveal: The video fades from the person into a medieval painting of a haloed man doing almost the exact same pose.
In part, they’re funny because of the incongruity: hoodies, bedrooms and phone cameras, suddenly paired with the solemn authority of saints. As an art historianwho studies Christian images, I know that these types of paintings were carefully made to communicate holiness through visual cues like books, clothing, gestures and posture.
But the humor also comes from how current they feel. These paintings may be centuries old, but the visual language is timeless. The raised hand, the open book, the severe gaze – they all communicate power. On TikTok or Instagram, a gesture once used to symbolize doctrine or wisdom starts to look like confidence, coolness, even swagger. The captions say as much: “They had swag fr,” one reads – for real.
When the trend crossed my feed, I had to try it. What better way to show how these images work than by stepping into the pose?
“Church fathers” were not “founders” in the simple sense, but foundational authorities: figures whose writings later Christians returned to when debating central questions about doctrine, scripture and religious life.
Today’s social media trend uses the term more loosely. In addition to early Christian authors, many of the videos show later saints, monks, bishops and theologians, especially from Eastern Orthodox traditions. Online, “church father” becomes shorthand for religious authority itself.
The paintings circulating online range from Eastern Orthodox icons to Western European Renaissance and Baroque paintings. In most cases, they were made long after the saints had died, so they don’t document what the men actually looked like.
Instead, this style of art was meant to inspire awe, surrounding worshippers with a sense of religious authority. The saints’ books, rich vestments and formal poses were visible signs of holiness, symbolizing their learning, discipline and eloquence. Such images did not merely decorate sacred spaces; they taught viewers what closeness to divine truth – saintliness itself – could look like.
Man of books and learning
Several of the videos show Athanasius of Alexandria, a fourth-century bishop and theologian traditionally considered one of the church fathers.
Painted by the Italian painter Domenichino in the 17th century, Athanasius stands in “contrapposto,” a pose inherited from classical art and common in Renaissance and Baroque painting. He leans back with his left shoulder, causing the right side of his body to project outward toward the viewer. The saint is dressed in a rich damask dalmatic – a long, wide-sleeved robe – over a white silk tunic.
An image of Athanasius by the 17th-century Italian artist Domenichino on the walls of the Santa Maria di Grottaferrata monastery outside Rome. The Web Gallery of Art
Athanasius’ shifting stance and sweeping vestments create drama. They also direct attention to the open book he holds in one hand and points to with the other – a reminder of his place among the great teachers of the church. In religious art, books are not just props. They help the viewer recognize the figure as someone whose words matter.
TikTokers recreating Athanasius’ pose today use a Bible or another thick volume, wielding the book with as much swagger as the saint himself.
They lose the luxurious vestments, trading Athanasius’ sumptuous robes for hoodies and jeans. Yet their captions recognize the force of the look: Church fathers “knew the fit was hard,” one video says. The language is modern, but the point is old: Clothing, books and posture make authority visible.
Another star in the videos is Gregory Palamas, a 14th-century Byzantine theologian and Orthodox saint – and he presents another type of authority altogether.
Palamas is best known for defending Hesychasm, a mystical tradition in the Orthodox Church that joins repeated prayer with contemplation. He represented holy power grounded not only in learning, but also in spiritual practice.
Unlike Domenichino’s dramatic Athanasius, the painting of Palamas appears still and distant. He is not turning toward the viewer with theatrical movement, but formally facing outward, set against a plain gold background – a sacred figure, held outside ordinary time.
Palamas’ image is an icon, a sacred image used in Orthodox Christian worship and devotion. The saint raises his hand in the Orthodox gesture of blessing, with his fingers forming the letters “IC XC,” a Greek abbreviation for Jesus Christ.
In sacred art, hands are rarely idle. Christ and the Christ child often hold up their hands to bless the viewer. Mary and John the Baptist draw viewers’ attention to Christ through their gestures and sometimes their gaze. Saints lift their hands in prayer, teaching or intercession.
To some viewers online, Palamas’ raised hand may simply look solemn or strange, charged with an unknown or mysterious meaning. But that gap in knowledge, I’d argue, is part of what makes the “church fathers” trend work. On social media, a hand gesture doesn’t need to be fully explained to feel meaningful: a slow point toward the camera, a hand over the heart, a peace sign.
TikTokers today may be a great distance from the church fathers, but their images still resonate – even, and perhaps especially, on the internet.
Photo credit: Yasin Akgul/AFP via Getty Images – Children look at developed film in a darkroom during an analog photography workshop held in southeastern Turkey on June 14, 2026.
Film photography is experiencing a resurrection, summoned by unlikely conjurers: Gen Z.
It wasn’t too long ago that analog photography – which uses photographic film and chemical processing – was declaredall but dead, relegated to the province of niche hobbyists and professional artists.
Digital cameras had taken over nearly all areas of photographic production. Film industry titans like Polaroidand Kodak had shrunk dramatically from their heyday, becoming shells of their former selves. Darkrooms, where students learned how to manually develop and print film, shutteredat high schools and college campuses across the country, replaced by digital labs. For most people, the spirit of analog photography was mainly channeled through Instagram filters.
In 2025, 35% of the 42 million active film camera users worldwide were reported to be between the ages of 18 and 30. The year prior, online searches for analog photography saw a 41% rise.
Disposable camera sales have been steadily increasing since 2023. The photography journal PetaPixel went a step further and announced 2024 as “film’s best year in decades,” as major brands have introduced new cameras in response to renewed demand and revived classic models. More than 30% of respondents to a 2024 Ilford Photo survey on film photography were in the 25-34 age group.
As I’ve witnessed more and more of my undergraduate art and design students embrace analog photography, I’m not seeing this as a trend rooted in a nostalgic yearning for the past. Instead, I’m seeing it as young people rejecting algorithms, breaking free from the alienation of social media and reacting to childhoods spent on Zoom and TikTok – a deliberate move to redefine the future of art, social connection and engagement with the world.
Pining for a ‘third place’
In my work as a historian of photography and lecturer at the University of Southern California, I’ll often ask my students about how they take photos – whether they’re using digital cameras their smartphones or analog devices.
This year, for the first time, some of my students discussed images they’d printed and the physical photography albums they’d put together of their friends and family. They talked about how they’d also been sending postcards, writing letters and tacking photographs to their bedroom walls.
New York Knicks forward OG Anunoby snaps a photo with a disposable film camera during the team’s victory rally on June 18, 2026, after winning the NBA Finals. Craig T. Fruchtman/Getty Images
This was a rhetorical move by social media companies, likely designed to help people feel as though they were in a familiar terrain of social connection. Yet the underlying business model of these platforms depended more on maximizing engagement and advertising revenue than on nurturing authentic relationships.
Everyone knows what happened next: The more connected young people became online, the more isolated and detached they started to feel. The COVID-19 lockdown pushed social life online even further, and researchers are only now starting to see how the combination of increased screen time and isolation negatively affected adolescents’ mental health. By 2023, 51% of American teenagers reported they spend at least four hours a day on social media.
I see the attraction of analog photography as a response to life lived through screens, a pathway toward community engagement and the desire for what sociologists call “a third place.”
Coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in his 1989 book “The Great Good Place,” third places are meant as a space separate from home and work. They offer a reprieve for the in-between, generating the conditions needed for creative cross-pollination. They might include a local cafe, a neighborhood writing group, a weekly Magic: The Gathering game or a college fraternity – any space that allows for social interaction and personal growth.
These spaces also combat loneliness. They get people out of their heads and into a community. Oldenburg also referred to them as “havens of sociability,” places or gatherings where people can arrive alone to join others, and the atmosphere is “democratic and festive.”
Analog communities IRL
In April 2026, the inaugural AnalogCon took place in Los Angeles. Organized by the Los Angeles Center of Photography, where I serve as executive director and chief curator, it was a festival for all things analog photography. It didn’t just serve as a third place for photography enthusiasts; it also showed how analog photography – as a practice, ritual and community – is flourishing.
Vendors, industry leaders, artists and teachers participated in the two-day event, which included exhibitions, panels, demonstrations and guided photography tours around Little Tokyo. The excitement and thirst for similar events was palpable.
Photography now joins a broader trend of a generational preoccupation with physical cultural objects and media. Although music streaming represents 82% of revenues generated in the music industry, vinyl records sales have been rising for over a decade, crossing the US$1 billion threshold in the U.S. in 2025.
But beyond that, record stores and video rental shops have become third places in their own right. There’s a big difference between selecting a film to stream from your bed and getting out of the house, going to a store and talking about movies with a clerk and fellow film enthusiasts.
Think about the sound a tape cassette makes when you open and close it, or the vibrant graphics on the covers of DVDs or VHS tapes. Think about rewinding or making a mixtape for your recent crush. These are objects of belonging that signal specific cultural moments, rituals and aesthetics, and many young people today are starting to experience them for the first time.
Now, think about gently inserting a roll of film into a camera. Think about choosing an angle carefully when snapping a photo, because the number of frames is limited and you want to make them count. Think about the thrill of discovery when the pictures finally emerge as objects on paper.
To me, these are more than fleeting trends. They signal a push against a digital culture that is designed to cultivate envy and reward outrage, insults and humiliation.
Instead, armed with rolls of film, more and more Gen Zers appear to be opting out of their algorithmic feeds in favor of experiencing life in ways that feel more deliberate, personal and tangible.
