In November I went to Croatia in my capacity as one of the board members of the Museum of Broken Relationships, I spent 4 days working with the two fantastic owners Olinka and Drazen to redevelop the strategic vision for the Museum for the next 5 years. It’s big, it’s bold, it’s brash and it’s gonna take some guts.
But I suddenly realised I’d forgotten to tell you about the wonderful parcel I’d received from Croatia containing 5 copies of the new Museum of Broken Relationships Book: A Diary. There is an entire chapter on the London transfer I produced, and an article I wrote for the book.
Here’s what I wrote:
My first encounter with the Museum left me feeling as though I had been bathed in fresh hope, with a voice in my head laughing and saying “It’s ok- I’m not going mad!”, as I saw example after example of the many shades of love.
My passion is empowering people- and I felt like, for the first time, I had encountered a true everyman museum. A cathedral to our individual adventures and forays into love. The museum is a voyeuristic temptation- that’s what entices people, and when we produced it in London it was that impulsive market that we cornered. Once inside, reading these stories in the first person suddenly creates a space for personal reflection. There’s an incredible wealth of information about the importance of children reading first person narratives. The opportunity to use the possessive ‘I’ results in a child subconsciously contrasting the activities of the character against their sense of self. It creates a space in which a child takes possession of their identity. Within the museum each object is accompanied by it’s story- from the heart of the writer. And as you negotiate the exhibition, story by story you read in first person of love, loss, regret, relinquished passions and fiery adventures. Rarely as adults do we give ourselves the gift of time to think about our loves. Our lives move fast, our friends are busy and we do not always wish to burden new lovers. The objects in the collection are those awkwardly remaining, and the museum creates a space for that love (though now broken) to be honoured, a cathedral to the most universal aspect of human nature. A visitor enters as a spectator, and ends up going on an empathetic journey.
The presentation of the museum is important- the creation of a space for slow navigation, room for more than one person to read a story, the honouring of these everyday objects. For London we created three very distinct spaces – one a theatre, that became a ethereal space gently held with floating plinths and paper cut-out screens depicting some of the London stories. The second a clean bright two-storey shop. We found the spaces leant themselves to different stories- The shop became full of laughter, and the theatre full of deeper unexpected encounters. Around the surrounding streets we took over 5 shop window displays, including Coco de Mer and Urban Outfitters- echoing the voyeuristic enticement of the museum through shop window designs with the objects and stories there for all to see.
Through the Museum of the Broken Relationships Olinka and Drazen have gathered an important collection that captures snapshots of our human wellbeing from around the world over the last 100 years. These objects highlight the impact of social economic migration, religious and political differences and cultural expectations around the word. It reveals very pertinent information about what pressures affect our life choices and it is this level of critical relevance that has resulted in my continued engagement. We had a brick wall, for people to write their thoughts on, and we photographed every message, every brick. I was hoping for the “A bitter sweet exhibition, I was swinging from laughter to complete heart in mouth” quotes, what I never imagined was the comments in over 20 languages- the precise and beautiful stories summed up in a sentence. London surged towards this exhibition with all the force that it’s passions and international demographic could muster and responded to the world encapsulated in the exhibition with the love and kindness each individual citizen holds dear.
In London, our first donation was a grand piano. Our last, a bottle of shampoo labelled “Amazing Grace”. The story for the final object made producing the exhibition worth while to me- the story was of a long and reciprical love, between a couple and himself, that was cherished for years. They were tragically killed in a car accident, and he was given no permission to grieve. The Museum not only allowed him to celebrate that love, offering him a place to grieve but also challenged us to hear the truth of that love, and acknowledge the normalcy that should have been offered to him.
The stories stay with you, I could tell you of the lady who was 62 and the guy who was 34, the postcard, the brain scans, the sealed letter left tucked behind an object in our exhibition which we’ve never opened. When we are given the opportunity to connect with love, the most universal aspect of our human nature we cannot but help to grown. To see a reflection of the world exhibited as people wish it to be seen is a rare gift. The power of this museum is in those connections, and in that sharing, which in turn we share with those around us.