Hayley Williams is speaking out days after her ex-husband, Chad Gilbert, the founding guitarist of pop-punk band New Found Glory, died at 45 following a battle with cancer.
Williams posted the statement on her Instagram Stories on Wednesday, writing that she hasn’t known what to say or “if it’s appropriate” but that she wants to address her former husband’s death because “life is made of the paths we cross and the reasons we cross them are infinite.”
“Chad is indeed a legend in the scene and my time connected to him taught me a lot,” she wrote. “He introduced me to people that continue to shape my life in beautiful ways, and to music and culture that has made life a lot richer.
“There isn’t much that hasn’t already been said about what he contributed to the musical world a lot of us grew up in. His influence and attitude guided the genre forward. His passion for fostering the community was inspiring and sticks with me.
“I will forever be grateful that from him I gained a deeper understanding and a reverence for the community and the culture of hardcore.”
Musician Chad Gilbert of New Found Glory and singer Hayley Williams of Paramore arrive at the 2010 People’s Choice Awards.
(Christopher Polk / Getty Images for PCA)
Williams concluded her statement by sending her love and sympathies to Gilbert’s family, friends and his New Found Glory bandmates Jordan Pundik, Cyrus Bolooki and Ian Grushka.
Gilbert died Sunday morning “peacefully in his sleep,” the band and his wife, musician Lisa Cimorelli, announced on social media. No cause of death was given, but the musician had been candid about his battle with cancer in recent years.
“He left this world surrounded by friends and family and took his final breaths with his wife and mother by his side, just as he wished,” the joint statement posted Sunday to Instagram read.
Williams and Gilbert were married in February 2016 after nearly a decade of dating but split the following year in July 2017, saying at the time that marriage wasn’t for the faint of heart.
Gilbert later married Cimorelli in October 2020, and the two welcomed a daughter, Lily, in 2021.
Cassius accepted the hero award from the city of Miami Police Department at a ceremony recognizing his bravery on Wednesday.
“It’s surreal to be able to be this proud of my child,” Gina told reporters at the event. “I’ve always been proud of him, but this is such an incredible thing that he did.”
In May, Cassius heard the nearby screams of Miami woman Caitlin Dydzuhn, who was walking her dog near her downtown condominium when she was brutally attacked by a man wielding a homemade shank. Cassius, 25, ran toward the screams and jumped in to stop the assault by kicking and shoving the alleged assailant Raydean Johnson, 49, who was arrested at the scene of the incident shortly after the attack.
Dydzuhn was punched and stabbed, and suffered severe cuts and damage to one of her eyes, according to NBC Miami. Doctors told her she would likely never regain her vision in the wounded eye, but she has since recovered.
Cassius told the outlet that he was raised not to panic in intense situations and to help those in need. He also said his lifelong training in martial arts helped equip him to step in.
“Fight or flight,” he said, per 7 News. “I’m glad that fight kicked in.”
“He saved my life,” Dydzuhn told reporters at the ceremony. “My last memory was screaming for my life, kind of blocking punches, blocking stab wounds, and feeling that no one was coming to save me.”
Dydzuhn continued that Cassius guided her to safety and spoke calmly, telling her, “There’s a man here with a weapon. I need to get you out of here.”
Gina Prince-Bythewood, also known for “The Woman King” and “Love & Basketball,” posted coverage of the ceremony on social media, writing, “Firstborn@CassiusMandela living the incredible example set by his pops,” adding a thank-you to her husband, Reggie Rock Bythewood, for “all that you instilled in our sons.”
Reggie added his own accolades for his son in the comments, writing, “My son. So grateful you’re safe. Grateful Caitlin is recovering well. I’m grateful that Mom was able to be with you. I admire how you were calm and empathetic under extreme pressure. Now you know why I call you CHAMP.”
Filming a broadcast television show can leave even the most seasoned actors feeling like they’ve lost sense of time. But by afternoon on a recent weekday, Josh Charles actually looks like he teleported to the past as he collapses into a seat inside his production trailer in upstate New York.
He’s in the throes of filming Season 2 of “Best Medicine,” the Fox dramedy he headlines that’s set in a small fishing village in Maine, and the reason he’s shed his character’s usual suit and tie for gaitered trousers and a navy coat with red facings eventually reveals itself: Port Wenn, the show’s fictional town, is putting on a Revolutionary War reenactment. And if you’re familiar with Martin Best, the curmudgeonly doctor with an almost permanently furrowed brow portrayed by Charles, the character’s willingness to don such a getup likely took some coaxing.
That’s the fun of it all for Charles.
He’s been a working actor since childhood — making his debut at 15 in John Waters’ cult classic “Hairspray,” followed soon after by his turn as Knox Overstreet in “Dead Poets Society” — and a fixture in TV and film ever since.
While best known for dramatic roles like high-powered lawyer Will Gardner in “The Good Wife,” Charles easily pivots to comedy — like the time he memorably played the triple-collared, snobby camp ringleader in “Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp.” Now, “Best Medicine” lets Charles leans into the push and pull of the comedy and drama within his tightly wound alter ego.
Josh Charles as Martin Best in Fox’s “Best Medicine.”
(Francisco Roman / Fox)
Created by Liz Tuccillo (“How to Be Single,” “Sex and the City”), the series follows a brilliant but cranky heart surgeon who, after developing a crippling blood phobia spurred by a traumatic medical case, abandons his thriving career in Boston to become a general practitioner in the town where he spent summers as a child. Martin Best is a doc whose bedside manner could use some TLC, but he came to town hoping he can still practice medicine — that is, if the townspeople would actually do as he says.
“I have been really wanting to do more comedy lately and looking — especially if I was going to call a place home for a particular period of time, like you do in a television show — for something that was a little more lighter air than I had been networking in of late,” says Charles, whose recent credits include dystopian drama “The Handmaid’s Tale” and spy thriller “The Veil.”
The series is based on the beloved British dramedy “Doc Martin,” which starred Martin Clunes as a doctor with a similar storyline, that aired between 2004 and 2022. Tuccillo says Charles brought an elegance and depth to the fish-out-of-water dynamic his character navigates in the quirky town.
“He never hits a false note,” she says in a separate video call. “I knew the material would be in great hands in that he would always elevate it just by his artistry and being. I knew he was going to be able to play the gruffness, but any time that you’re doing a show, there is a question mark on so many things. To be honest, we were like, ‘But is he going to be super funny? Is he going to want to do pratfalls? Is he going to be game for the comedy part of it?’ When we started working, it was clear he was game for all the shenanigans … he likes to laugh. So I try to devise things that I think will amuse him.”
A special advance preview of the Season 2 premiere aired Sunday, but the show will move into its regular time slot Tuesday. Here are edited excerpts from the conversation with Charles.
Josh Charles poses for photos on the “Best Medicine” set in upstate New York. He says he was drawn to the Fox dramedy because it was “a little more lighter air” than the other work he had done recently.
(Ebru Yildiz / For The Times)
“Best Medicine” hit Netflix after its first season aired. Building an audience outside the traditional linear viewing has become such a key component of television today. How do you feel about it?
One of my dad’s best friends told me, “I’m watching the show on Netflix!” He’s like, “I just can’t watch shows with commercials anymore” — as people are programmed now. That is the new shift. You go into these platforms for periods of time, build your audience in a different way and hopefully keep growing that audience. [Television] keeps evolving and growing in a way that I don’t fully understand, but I do know that it’s a different world right now. Netflix has a great reach, and it’s great that we’re on there and that people are discovering it. And apparently we did very well.
Season 2 opens with Martin on probation and under review by the medical board. What is Martin in for this season?
When it starts off, he’s really in it. Eden [Martin’s ex-girlfriend played by Eliza Coupe] is now back in the picture. She’s coming from Boston every weekend, and she’s rubbed a lot of people in town the wrong way. And the progress that Martin made, we see him maybe take a few steps back in the way that he interacts with people. He’s with her and I think there’s feelings there, but I think their relationship feels very — I don’t know, it’s interesting. It doesn’t have the fire. But she doesn’t make him feel bad about himself. She respects him, and I think those things are important. And he’s around in this town where nobody’s listening to him half the time. People are just always mad at him about something, and she’s not. She puts him a little bit on a pedestal, and I think he really needs that.
All that presents an obstacle for the show’s slow burn: Martin and Louisa (Abigail Spencer). There’s been some discourse about the art of the slow burn and how the pacing has changed in an era of short episode orders and unpredictable renewals. You have experience in this department with “The Good Wife.”
Liz and I have talked about it a little bit. You don’t want to muck bait it and drag it out for the sake of dragging it out. I think they’ve done a good job of putting the obstacles in a way that still feels organic and genuine and not yet a reach. In the British show, things accelerated so much faster. They only made eight [episodes] a year. We want to also have it feel like it’s plausible. It is really fun to have Eliza Coupe here. It’s fun to play scenes with her and [see] the different side that brought out in Martin. That is the challenge because I don’t think we’re as interested in doing it quite that fast [as the British show]. I have faith in them that we’ll land it in a good way.
Ellen Soraya Nikbakht as a peculiar patient and Josh Charles as Martin Best in the Season 2 premiere of “Best Medicine.”
(Danielle Mathias / Fox)
You’ve played in comedy and drama in your career. It’s fun to watch you straddle both sides with this character. How has it been finding the rhythm or tone with him?
A lot of the comedy I’ve done, I’ve done some stuff that’s more silly and kind of over the top. I love playing the fool. What’s really fun [here], to me, are the circumstances they put Martin in where things are blowing up in front of him and he’s just trying to deal. I’ve enjoyed doing a lot of the physical comedy on the show.
I [also] found it really interesting to have a character who doesn’t want to be around people, but he actually does. He just doesn’t really know how to do it, and he’s never really had any kind of practice at it in his life. And he’s gone through a lot of trauma in his life. He’s a really specific kind of workaholic. For him to grow up with what he did, and losing his sister really young in his life — I did research on that and what that does to people and how that can sort of frame your life. I imagine he went to private school, maybe a boarding school, then he goes on the track of going to college and medical school — we know how hard that is, the kind of hours they put in; then to be really successful at it, you put everything you have into your work. There’s this other side of his life that is completely empty. This town kind of just softens off the edges of him a little bit and helps him become a little more authentic version of who he was maybe meant to be. That gives me some place to build off of and to go with the character, other than it feeling kind of just very one-note.
Matthew Goode, left, as Finn Polmar and Josh Charles as Will Gardner in a scene from Season 5 of “The Good Wife.”
(CBS)
This series marks your return to broadcast television after leaving “The Good Wife” in its fifth season. You’ve done TV since then, of course. But a big reason you left broadcast was because of the grind of a 20-plus episode season. With “Best Medicine,” you’re the lead and the second season will have 14 episodes. Does that feel like the sweet spot?
If “The Good Wife” was “The Good Fight,” I would have done that until the wheels come off. I would have never wanted to leave that because I would have had a life. I could have been able to go do a play, travel with my family, see my kids. At the time of “The Good Wife,” I didn’t have kids, but we were about to get married and wanted to have children. I was only going to do 18 [episodes] at most with this show, if they wanted it. And then I asked them this year, “Well, we’re just at 14. What was the decision [there]?” And I’m happy about it. They also agree. This just feels like where the show wants to live creatively. You work really hard for four or five months, and then you get to go explore other projects and travel and live your life.
Your departure from “The Good Wife,” with your character Will Gardner dying, felt like an out–of–body viewing experience as it happened. The fact that it was kept under wraps —
I can’t believe we did it, honestly. There was one journalist who obviously had a source somewhere and did find out. Part of being able to keep that silent until the moment was an agreement that they would come to set and be there as long as it was [kept secret]. I remember like when the episode aired, I was in the editing bay with the editors in L.A. [for an episode I directed]. I’m seeing things come in and I was like, “Oh my God!” I thought it was going to get ruined for people on the West Coast. These days, you know how they make something, how much this cost, how they did this scene … we used to be surprised by things. To be able to truly shock people you know like in an Orson Welles-style “War of the Worlds” way. I felt like in our own sort of network TV way, this was the equivalent of that. We really got to narratively pack a punch. That season was one of the great treats of my career. I just felt the writing on that show that season was at another level.
The Queen of Country is being honored with a special day on Californians’ calendars.
Gov. Gavin Newsom signed legislation Sunday that establishes Sept. 25 as Dolly Parton Day. The date’s significance may be obvious to fans of the late country legend: 9-2-5 references Parton’s hit single “9 to 5” from the soundtrack of the 1980 comedy film of the same name that starred Parton, Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin.
“Dolly Parton was an icon,” Newsom said in a video accompanied by his wife, Jennifer Siebel Newsom, announcing the bill’s passage. “Dolly was larger than life with big hair and a bigger heart. People around the world have been touched by her music, by her philanthropy, and by her humor.”
Parton died Aug. 25 at 80 years old following a battle with cancer. The beloved songwriter, recording artist, actor and businesswoman was an honored musician, earning 10 Grammy Awards and 10 Country Music Assn. Awards, as well as two Academy Award nominations and a Primetime Emmy. She was the recipient of the National Medal of the Arts in 2005 and the Kennedy Center for the Arts Award in 2006. Parton was also inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame in 1999 and the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2022.
“Her legacy goes well beyond her music,” Sen. John Laird (D-Santa Cruz), who co-authored the bill with Sen. Shannon Grove (R-Bakersfield), said in a statement. “Through the Imagination Library, she put books into the hands of millions of children, and throughout her life she led with kindness, acceptance, and a belief that everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. She was also no stranger to the Central Coast, where she performed for packed crowds and spent time over the years. Now, every 9-2-5, California gets to celebrate Dolly and the remarkable legacy she shared with all of us.”
Tehran, Iran – Amid dire fuel shortages and mounting economic challenges, the Iranian government is seeking cost-saving measures for government workers and other citizens to deal with the crisis.
On Saturday, the government set office attendance hours for 8am to 1pm from September 23 to the end of the current Iranian year (late March 2027), with the remaining contractual hours to be completed remotely.
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Agencies must also designate one day a week when employees and managers travel to work by public transport. In recent days, government ministers have released videos showing themselves using the metro to commute to work as part of the campaign.
Metro and bus rapid transit (BRT) systems will also be free of charge until mid-November in a bid to encourage commuters to leave their cars at home. Worn-out government vehicles will also be replaced with electric, gas-powered or hybrid alternatives, although this is expected to take years to implement.
Government-linked offices are required to switch off heating and turn off lights after working hours, while schools, universities, healthcare facilities and operational services are to follow separate arrangements to be announced later.
President Masoud Pezeshkian signed a directive on September 12 instructing government agencies to facilitate remote work for suitable employees to save on petrol, electricity and natural gas costs for the state.
“We have begun consumption savings with the government,” Pezeshkian said earlier this month. This is seen as effectively framing remote work and other measures for government workers as in line with other energy-saving measures that the government has asked of the rest of the population.
Resource-rich Iran has dealt with energy crises before, rooted in mismanagement and dated infrastructure, when similar cost-saving measures were implemented. But the added pressure of war with the United States and Israel has forced the government to think of creative solutions to energy shortfalls.
In early September, the cash-strapped government raised the price of fuel for the third tier of quotas for a second time in less than a year, meaning that people will pay double for any petrol use beyond 110 litres (29 gallons) per month. Imported vehicles and some other categories of cars are also limited to the most expensive tier of fuel.
For the first five months of the current Iranian year, which ended on August 22, average daily petrol production was 122 million litres while consumption was at 132 milion litres, highlighting a shortfall in supply versus demand. In the first half of the sixth month, the gap between production and consumption was around the same, at a 10 million litre shortfall.
The US naval blockade of Iran’s southern ports in place since July has halted fuel imports that previously helped balance the gap. The blockade has also stopped Iran from exporting its oil via supertankers transiting the Strait of Hormuz, affecting its foreign currency income. Crude stored on open waters beyond the blockade line is still being gradually sold to China.
Oil and gas facilities, petrochemical companies and major fuel depots were also bombed by the US and Israel, impacting production and distribution. Oil Minister Mohsen Paknejad said in early September that “a significant portion of production capacity has now been restored, and the process is continuing”.
As rampant inflation continues to squeeze most Iranians, data released this week by the Statistical Center of Iran also highlighted the damage the war with the US has dealt to the economy.
Iran experienced a massive 10.1 percent year-on-year fall in real gross domestic product (GDP) and a 26.4 percent fall in oil and gas extraction between late March and late June 2026, the centre’s data showed.
Including oil, industries and mining were down 14.7 percent, while construction was down by 6.4 percent, services overall by 4.8 percent, and transport, storage and communications by 17 percent.
The government has not released any information on how many workers are estimated to be affected by the remote work directive, or how it expected efficiency to be impacted.
But after decades of mismanagement, corruption and inefficiency among government-linked organisations, some Iranians believe it highlights a wider issue of state inefficiency.
“My unpopular opinion is that if 85-90 percent of government sector personnel are fired and 70 percent of ministries closed down, absolutely no problem will occur in the country,” a user named Mohsen wrote on X.
A man reacts to the camera while driving past a monument depicting the clenched fist of the late Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who was killed in a US-Israel strike on February 28, in downtown Tehran, Iran, on Tuesday, September 15, 2026 [Vahid Salemi/AP Photo]
Zabihollah Salmani, a deputy head of the Administrative and Employment Organisation of Iran, told reporters during a press conference in August that more than 2.43 million were on its payroll.
If council, fire brigades, social security and non-government organisation workers were included, this would bring the number to more than four million people. The average monthly pay for government personnel at the end of the previous Iranian year in late March 2026 was around 240 million rials ($104 at the current exchange rate).
Asked by reporters how many of these employees could potentially be taken off the payroll without hurting output, Salmani said, “We do not yet have these figures.” He added that agencies were being asked to submit that information.
About 1,075,000 people are on the payroll of the Education Ministry, including teachers and trainee staff, while 600,000 employees work under the Ministry of Health and its affiliated networks, according to official figures.
Amir-Hossein, a young man working at a research centre linked with the government-funded University of Tehran, said that since the start of the month, he had been assigned two days of remote work. Working hours were set for 7am-1pm before, but are to be shifted to 8am-1pm starting from Wednesday, per the government.
His work can be done on his laptop, but might require some coordination on the phone or short commutes to other centres, he said. Overall, the remote work lifestyle has been beneficial.
“Sometimes I get more work done than I would have at the office,” he told Al Jazeera, asking not to use his full name due to security reasons.
As Amir-Hossein regularly uses online ride-hailing services to commute to and from his job, working from home has been financially beneficial for him.
An Iran-based economist who spoke to Al Jazeera on background said the government measures are essentially crisis control at best, and not a long-term solution to the problem.
In Philippe Caland’s semi-autobiographical 2003 film “Hollywood Buddha,” his mother, Huguette Caland, plays herself. Wearing her signature white smock, inscribed with a flurry of painted swirls, circles, letters and cross-stitches, the Lebanese artist makes precise gray-blue lines on a canvas spread across her dining room table as her son laments a fickle movie industry.
Filmed in her Venice home, the scene, her three children agree, was true to life. Caland worked constantly: on stretched canvas, on fabric folded in her lap, on a children’s menu, on the wall of her kitchen, or the sleeve of her smock. Whatever was at hand.
“Of course it could be frustrating,” said her daughter Brigitte, an elegant, soft-spoken scholar of Semitic languages who has managed Caland’s estate since her death in 2019.
Brigitte Caland, right, and Charley Caland — the daughter and granddaughter of the Lebanese-born painter, sculptor and fashion designer Huguette Caland — stand in Caland’s former L.A. home and studio.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Sitting in that very home, which Caland had built in 1997, Brigitte recalled the many times her mother invited her over only to continue working as they talked. “I’d go to leave, and she’d put the canvas away, beg me to come back, and as soon as I did, she’d start painting again.” Still, from early on, Brigitte understood the compulsion as evidence of her mother’s resolve. “She had this incredible drive to create.”
“Huguette Caland: A Life in a Few Lines,” opening Sunday at the Hammer Museum, traces that relentless drive across nearly 150 paintings, drawings, sculptures, garments and tapestries. Organized by the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía in Madrid in collaboration with the Deichtorhallen Hamburg, the show comes to Los Angeles as the largest Caland survey in the country to date. Spanning five decades and installed chronologically, it features work from the 26 years she spent immersed in Venice’s creative community even as her practice was largely ignored.
It was Caland’s generous hospitality and boisterous wit that made her custom château a gathering place for a vibrant Westside art circle. Ed Moses, who lived around the corner, visited several times a week; Larry Bell, Frank Gehry, Robert Wilhite and others joined her for long meals and even longer parties. Her work surrounded them, and her studio, the grandest space in the house, stood open just beyond the living room. Yet her guests remained uninterested. “No one,” Brigitte said, “would walk the 10 steps.”
Huguette Caland in Stone Doorway, France, 1970.
(Huguette Caland Estate)
Curator Hannah Feldman sees that tension as central to Caland’s California years. “Instead of supporting and bolstering her as a creative in their midst, she became their salon host,” she said. The lack of recognition, Feldman argues, reverberates through Caland’s heavily impastoed portraits of Moses and her enigmatic late abstractions such as the rectilinear paintings in the “Silent Letter Series.”
“To draw a line is a way to contain one’s emotion, one’s anger, one’s anguish,” wrote Caland of her challenging relations with fellow artists in “Sketchbook 2” (1990-91). “My lines tell the story of my life, of people encountered along the path, people I loved, and found and even lost.”
Caland is perhaps best known for her cheeky, erotic paintings of fulsome body parts and for a biography too often reduced to cliché: the libertine daughter of Lebanon’s first post-independence president who left her husband and children in Beirut to pursue an art career in a less repressed Paris.
Huguette Caland, “Self-Portrait in Smock,” 1992
(Huguette Caland Estate)
Feldman hopes the exhibition, which spans fine-line drawings of entangled lovers and radiant topographical tapestries, will complicate that familiar account. “There’s joy, and there’s sex,” she said, “but there’s also pathos, vulnerability. The search for autonomy is not an easy one; it comes with conflict, strife.”
Caland’s freedom was no doubt hard-won. She first picked up a brush as a married mother of three in her thirties, and only after her father’s death. In her first painting, alternately titled “Soleil rouge” and “Cancer” (Red Sun/Cancer) (1964), hazy concentric circles gather in a crimson orb at the center of the monochromatic plane. Simultaneously a tumor and a light source, the refulgent motif holds grief and release.
Soon after, Caland enrolled in art classes at the American University of Beirut, relinquished much of her constricting couture wardrobe, and adopted a uniform of loose, flowing kaftans, which she would later turn into works of art in their own right. Archival photographs show a glamorous Caland arriving at an event in a floor-length garment bearing painted breasts, a belly button and a triangle of curly pubic hair.
Huguette Caland, “Bribes de corps,” 1973
(Huguette Caland Estate)
Caland moved to France in 1970, leaving her children (then 15, 13 and 12) in Beirut with their father, a French-Lebanese lawyer named Paul Caland. In paintings from that decade, Caland’s imagery of bodies swell, split, meld and dissolve. In “Enleve ton doigt” (Remove Your Finger) (1971), lipstick-red lips receive a pale finger reaching out from a crush of fantastical profiles; two years later, in “Self-Portrait” (Bribes de corps), Caland dispersed a sensual body across a pale pink field interrupted at the lower edge by a slight, shadowed cleft — either buxom cleavage or buttocks.
The distance from her children produced another kind of line: text. Philippe recalled receiving illustrated letters almost every week, filled with drawings, doodles and notes of affection. Most of these were later destroyed when the family house was bombed during the Lebanese Civil War of 1975. “I always knew my mother loved me,” Philippe said. “The family was not torn apart. She took a break, and in the end made a home for us in Paris, where we all landed when the war was raging.”
After the death of her lover, Romanian sculptor George Apostu, whose rough-hewn wood sculptures still populate the house’s patio, Caland’s children encouraged yet another departure. Her eldest son, Pierre, a businessman and former Olympic swimmer, paid for a stay at a friend’s Venice bed-and-breakfast, all but forcing his grieving mother out of Paris and to sunny L.A. Her initial reluctance gave way to affection. The light, arid climate and mountains sloping into the sea reminded her of Lebanon. “She liked that California land sounded like Caland,” Brigitte said.
Huguette Caland works at her home and studio in Venice, date unknown.
(Huguette Caland Estate)
After making Venice her primary residence, Caland collaborated with architect Neil Kaufman on the design for her enclosed château. Its towering, mostly unbroken face and narrow swimming pool suggested a rampart and a moat, but behind the concrete exterior, Caland eliminated every door save the guest bathroom. Long vertical windows opened onto a courtyard shaded by a sprawling olive tree. Art crowded the steep stairwell; it accumulated on scattered plywood and Formica tables and unraveled across the kitchen in an intricate mural composed of tessellated marks that recall Byzantine mosaics and tatreez, a form of traditional Palestinian embroidery.
“There was no distinction for her,” Brigitte said, between the home and the studio, art and life. Caland once described her “very, very mixed media” as including “every single exchange, a look, a smile, a brief encounter.”
That original interior survives in “Hollywood Buddha” and archival photographs. Philippe now lives in the house with his family, and although the concrete exterior remains intact, the rooms and the courtyard have been remodeled around their own aesthetics and routines. Along with the technicolor mural, Caland’s singular sensibility persists in scattered drawings, a bouquet of her preferred 30-inch paintbrushes and a pair of stiff-backed pews. Her presence, too, is felt in the people who now inhabit the space, like her granddaughter Charley, 25, whose easy warmth recalls qualities long ascribed to the matriarch.
The former Venice home and studio of the Lebanese-born painter, sculptor and fashion designer Huguette Caland. The home is still occupied by Caland’s family and no longer looks how it did when she was alive, but her spirit lives on in small details.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
When the Hammer selected Caland for “Made in L.A. 2016,” the honor brought some measure of the local attention that had long eluded her. “If you had to pick one critical turning point for her career,” Pierre said, “it was the inclusion of her work in that show.” For the family, the coming survey fulfills one of her long-held ambitions.
“She told me, ‘Live your life day by day and plan it on a thousand years,’” Philippe said. Only later did he understand that the advice described her own life. “Today, her work is here,” he added. “She continues with it.”
Huguette Caland, “Le grand bleu,” 2012.
(Huguette Caland Estate)
The final painting in the exhibition, an oceanic large-format canvas titled “Le Grand Bleu” (The Great Blue) (2012), once hung high above the central hearth in the Venice house. Surrounded by undulating circles, spots and stripes, red-roofed Lebanese abodes and white-masted schooners traverse an unsettled horizon line. From the dining table below, where a young Charley often helped her grandmother fill blank planes with delicate dots, Caland could look up and see how far her line had taken her.
Frankie Muniz had a vulnerable moment on social media Friday, revealing he’s hit rock bottom following the announcement of his split from wife Paige Price.
The “Malcolm in the Middle” star announced he and Price were calling it quits after seven years of marriage in July, and now the actor is revealing he’s experienced some painful introspection in recent weeks.
“The last 6 weeks of my life have been a nightmare I’m praying to wake up from,” he wrote on Instagram. “Everything felt heavy, unclear, and like it was falling apart at the same time. I wouldn’t wish this season on anyone.”
He continued that despite the painful experience, “the unexpected gift in the middle of it is that I’ve had nowhere to hide.”
The actor-turned-race car driver said he’s spent the last several weeks reflecting and can now see the areas of his life where he thinks he can improve.
“I want to become a better version of me. Not the polished version I show the world … the actual one,” he wrote.
“I read that sometimes hitting rock bottom is the thing that wakes you up. It forces the changes you needed to make all along so you can live the best life possible. That idea has been sitting with me. In five years I believe I’ll look back at this exact low point and feel grateful for it, because the high I’ll be standing on then only exists because I went through this.”
He told his followers that this period isn’t the end of the story, but the catalyst for change.
“It’s the part where I start doing the work … the uncomfortable, unglamorous, necessary work. I’m choosing to treat this season as the foundation, not the finish line.”
Shortly after Muniz’s post, Price posted an Instagram story with a message that some followers speculated may be a response to the actor’s admission.
“Life is all about perspective. If you ask the grass, the zebra is the monster and the lion is the protector,” Price wrote.
Muniz is best known for his titular starring role in the beloved Fox sitcom “Malcolm in the Middle,” which ran for seven seasons in the early aughts. In April, the series returned for a four-episode reunion arc on Hulu starring returning fan favorites Bryan Cranston as Hal, Jane Kaczmarek as Lois and a couple of Malcolm’s TV siblings.
In 2006, when “Malcolm in the Middle” wrapped, Muniz transitioned away from acting and pursued race car driving.
Sanjeev Bhaskar joins Nicola Walker’s The Split spin-off The Split Up but could he reunite with his former Unforgotten co-star?
Hayley Anderson Screen Time TV Reporter
18:15, 20 Sep 2026
Sanjeev Bhaskar plays Dhruv Kishan in BBC The Split Up. (Image: BBC)
Sanjeev Bhaskar is heading up BBC’s next big legal drama tonight with fans keen to know all there is about his personal life.
The Split Up debuts tonight, Sunday, September 20, at 9pm, on BBC One, delving into the Kishan family’s life as Manchester’s elite law firm.
Founder of Kishan Law is father-of-three Dhruv Kishan who is having doubts about leaving his business in his daughter’s hands following the death of her mother.
With The Split fans gearing up to tune into its BBC spin-off, here’s everything there is to know about leading man Sanjeev Bhaskar.
Inside The Split Up star Sanjeev Bhaskar’s life
Early life
Actor Sanjeev Bhaskar was born in Ealing in 1963 after his parents fled their home during the 1947 partition of India and moved to the UK.
He studied business with marketing at Hatfield Polytechnic and worked in marketing before getting into the entertainment industry in his early 30s.
Sanjeev got his breakthrough with the musical comedy double act Secret Asians with Nitin Sawhney which led to the BBC sketch show Goodness Gracious Me.
Sanjeev Bhaskar’s famous wife
The Split Up star Sanjeev Bhaskar is married to actress and comedian Dame Meera Syal who he met on Goodness Gracious Me which she co-created
They once again starred opposite each other in the sitcom The Kumars at No 42 where she played the grandmother of Sanjeev’s character, despite being younger than him.
The pair got married in 2005 and Sanjeev became the step-father to Meera’s daughter Milli from another relationship before welcoming son Shaan later that year.
In 2023, Meera received the BAFTA Fellowship award for her outstanding contributions to TV and film and was made a Dame last year for her services to drama, literature and charity.
In an interview with The Times, Sanjeev shared that he was “super proud” of his wife’s achievements.
Unforgotten season 7 update
Sanjeev will reprise his role as DI Sunny Khan in the seventh season of ITV ’s Unforgotten, now starring alongside Sinead Keenan as DCI Jess James.
Filming for the latest series began in January 2026 and recent reports have suggested that shooting is now complete, although an official return date hasn’t been confirmed.
Sanjeev is starring in BBC The Split Up, the spin-off of The Split which starred his former Unforgotten co-star Nicola Walker.
Speaking of his hopes that there could one day be an onscreen reunion to Radio Times, Sanjeev said: “Emotionally, it would be like some sort of cosmic miracle. I wouldn’t mind it at all.”
Sanjeev Bhaskar net worth
It has been widely reported that Sanjeev Bhaskar has a net worth of around £2 million.
This brings into consideration his almost 30-year career in the entertainment industry as an actor, writer and comedian.
He continues to be a major star in the ITV hit drama Unforgotten and has a star-studded comedy film on the way called The Entertainment System Is Down.
The feature is expected to star major names including Keanu Reeves, Samantha Morton, Kirsten Dunst, Tobias Menzies and Connor Swindells.
The Split Up debuts tonight, Sunday, September 20, at 9pm, on BBC One and BBC iPlayer.
