Rock & Relax – A Brave New World of Museums?
“Freedom is dangerous; it makes people unhappy. We prefer happiness.”
From: “Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley, published in 1932
There are certainly people more qualified than I am who find it easier to write scholarly treatises on happiness. I am—or so I believe, at least—more responsible for the practical realization of the desire for a happy artist’s life, which I succeed in achieving not always, but surprisingly often. In my view, the artist—whether male or female—is, in many respects, a rather undemanding creature. Leisure, water, wine, plenty of coffee, art supplies, and sometimes even a good slice of strawberry cake—along with enough money to afford all of this—are among the minimum requirements for an artistic existence.
The transformation of a creative vision from the immaterial world of the mind into the often harsh world of the art market usually takes place all by oneself. Leaving the protective cocoon of the studio or workroom to speak with gallery owners, curators, collectors, or museum directors is so incredibly difficult for many that they gladly turn to the help of an artistic midwife—known as a muse just the day before yesterday. Engaging an artist agency serves, in a sense, as the interface between dream and reality. The artist’s desires (as always, this refers to all artists—truly all of them) for visibility, encounters, resonance, and feedback on their creations often move me with their intensity, as they stem from a longing for an understanding audience and, ideally, an endless stream of exhibition visitors.
I’ll address the question of when an exhibition, a performance, or—of course—a concert can be considered a success in another post. But is achieving success with one’s own artistic work really just a matter of luck? And not just with a single project, a book, or a photo series, but consistently—and sometimes for a lifetime??
But what is luck, anyway? The word itself is derived from the Middle High German *gelücke* and simply referred, in a value-neutral way, to the outcome of any event. It wasn’t until later that it became associated with the word “gelingen”—that is, with something that comes easily or goes according to plan.
Everyone knows someone who succeeds at everything they set out to do. For anyone familiar with Duckburg and its inhabitants: a sort of “Gustav Goose for all occasions.” Others, like his feathered cousin Donald, are born unlucky: impulsive, explosive, and intuitive, they flutter from one mishap to the next, and out of a deeply human impulse, they like to blame others for their misfortune. The third category consists of those who, by fate or unjust circumstances, have been sent by swans to live with ugly duck parents; faced with the gloom of their circumstances, they let their beautiful, long necks sink into the dirty pond and are unable to fulfill their potential.
These distinctions, of course, also apply to artists. Those unlucky enough to be born in a part of the world where pure survival is all that matters—or where the practice of the arts is considered not only dispensable but blasphemous—must exert far greater effort than someone who grows up with early artistic education and is hyped by their parents on TikTok. Does this make the art worse or better? More worth seeing? More moving? Better executed technically? More valuable from a didactic and pedagogical standpoint? Less or more worthy of support or exhibition? Should there be fewer Gustav Gans and more Donald Ducks? Or just swans that weren’t allowed to be swans?
Given the ubiquitous demand for diversity in many places, wouldn’t it be desirable to give ALL THREE variants equal consideration, rather than one-sidedly favoring one OR the other interpretation? I’m certainly not the only one asking myself these and other questions in this context, and with that, I’m drawing a connection to the strawberry cake we shared and the conversation with an artist friend—one that left me happy, thoughtful, AND full. Yes, all of that goes together, and I think everything else does, too. You just have to let it happen.
But others—with whom I inevitably have to deal from time to time—seem to have quite a problem with it. “Business ghosting”—a highly prevalent, highly annoying phenomenon these days (I’ll be writing a post about that soon, too)—is certainly one of the reasons why museum directors in Germany—whether in provincial towns or prime locations—respond to specific exhibition requests either with a very long delay or not at all, even though there has been good collaboration on exhibition projects in the past. Others alter or adjust— whatever you want to call it—their exhibition histories. For those unfamiliar with the term: these are the chronological and content-related details about past, current, and future exhibitions found on the websites of many art museums. For artists and their representatives, these calendars are important in that they serve as references. Someone who had a successful exhibition at XY qualifies for one at Z, and so on. I happened to notice that an artist’s exhibitions were no longer listed in the history section and inquired with the director. To be honest, I was surprised to receive a response at all. The explanation was that this was due to “technical reasons… and anyway, other museums”— she named two with which I’ve also collaborated—“do the same thing.”
But that wasn’t always the case, and there were no technical reasons for it, since the websites and the software required to run them essentially work the same way they did just a few years ago.
So what has changed? I’d suspected it and experienced it firsthand for several years, but it was never a major topic in the mainstream media; perhaps in the special-interest publications, which I rarely read because I was—and still am—far too busy with what I thought were more important matters. It had been standing in the room like a glass wall for some time, and, blind as I was, I banged my head against it more than once—thank God only metaphorically—until it bled.
Then I found the solution to the puzzle: The most important new guidelines for the German museum landscape are based on the revised Ethical Guidelines for Museums by ICOM Germany and the German Museum Association’s Standards for Museums, available at www.icom-deutschland.de
They set new priorities in five key areas:
- Society and Diversity: Museums should act more strongly as inclusive spaces with barrier-free access, diverse perspectives, and transparent social exchange
- Climate Protection and Sustainability: Embedding ecological responsibility in exhibitions and operations, as well as addressing climate risks
- Digital and Media: Guidelines for the responsible handling of data sovereignty, AI, and digital risks such as misinformation. Cultural heritage is explicitly defined as tangible, intangible, and digital.
- Provenance Research and Restitution: A greater focus on the ethical reappraisal of collection items acquired through colonial processes, as well as fair restitution procedures
- Governance and Transparency: Clear guidelines for collection development, interlibrary loans, and funding sources to ensure independence
What has been summarized here briefly and concisely regarding AI has implications in practice and in the reality of the art world—where I and many other artists work—whose consequences are not even remotely foreseeable
I’ll write about what these might specifically entail in a future post on my blog… But whether you’re Donald, Gustav, or an anonymous swan—stay tuned! The art universe needs ALL of you!
P.S.: What made me particularly happy while writing this blog post was that two museum staff members at two locations in the province answered my questions in a friendly, knowledgeable, and timely manner. That, at the very least, is what I’d hope for in the future, and I’m firmly convinced that we’ll manage to make it happen again despite all the changes—or what do you think?
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