Collective curation is not a miracle solution that can transform our field overnight. But it can work well as a provocation - and a potential political proposal - for rethinking how we work, and, perhaps, how we build and maintain social relations. In this sense, collective curation can attempt to break the spell of socio-economic exhaustion embedded in curatorial practice: always competitive, always alienated, always under pressure to set the new trend, and, as a result, always too tired to imagine how things could be otherwise.[1]

What if the practice of collective curating invites those who, at first glance, do not fit the “job description”? What do we need to get rid of in order for their ideas, imaginaries, and urgencies to emerge and take all the space they need?

In 2022, I was invited to join The Shake Down project, initiated by Bek Berger (back then artistic director of New Theatre Institute of Latvia) and Alexander Roberts (artistic and managing director of Rosendal Theater in Trondheim), which involved ten teenage curators co-curating two international festivals: Homo Novus in Riga in September 2022 and Bastard Festival in Trondheim in April 2023. Over a period of fifteen months, the young curators from Latvia and Norway, accompanied by four external mentors and four festival directors and producers, explored what curatorial practice could entail, discovered the local contexts of the two cities, interviewed various artists and conceptualized, prepared and hosted an artistic program of their choice.

I collaborated with the young curators as one of their mentors (although it often felt more like they were mentoring me!), which became one of the most nourishing curatorial journeys I’ve been part of. This was thanks, of course, to the passion, inquiries, and curiosities of the young curators — but also to the fact that we, as mentors and festival teams, had to learn how to hold the space together as a temporary collective curatorial body. At the same time, we had to step back from some of the routines that usually guide our work. This required us to learn how to let go: how to say goodbye to some of our habits, ways of thinking and modes of working that we may have taken for granted, and been quite attached to.

I have noted this experience of letting go of old patterns as five ingredients in a farewell meal recipe. Each ingredient is accompanied by some observations about how to prepare for both the disruptions each farewell may bring, and the new flavors they might make room for.

Of course, there are many ways to turn this recipe draft into a full farewell meal. The final flavor will always vary – depending on how you choose to stir the ingredients, which spices you add, and whom you’ll be sharing the meal with.     

1. Look at the routines that underpin your daily curatorial practice. Perhaps you have shaped them yourself, perhaps you have followed an institutional pattern encountered when you started your work. How formalized these routines are? Do they take the form of a written protocol or are they more of a habitual practice for getting things done? Who do these rules actually serve? Abandoning familiar paths can seem intimidating because they offer a safety net. When inviting a collaborator unfamiliar with production procedures, disruption to efficiency is inevitable. The encounter between the young curators and the institutional structures challenged the pace of the latter's work, namely the rhythm of decision-making, the production processes and the flow of communication. All this required reflection, clarification, renegotiation. Why this way, why now, how could we do it differently? Efficiency was disrupted, but this rupture in linear, productive time became exactly the moment when we could ask: who does this efficiency work for? To be able to ask this question, however, it is necessary to make sure there is enough time and space to reflect together what has happened: to acknowledge the gaps, the anxiety and fatigue they might provoke, and to see the potential of new ones that can emerge. What ways of working and procedures got unestablished on the way? What new, more restorative and nourishing routines could we think of?

2. Curatorial am Does your curatorial practice revolve mainly around working with the artists and art practices you admire? Sharing curatorial task with many may lead to a programme proposal that, at first glance, feels challenging to fully identify with. But curating has never really been about realizing one’s own vision alone, has it? Ambition is closely linked to passion - it helps create a bold, coherent curatorial framework and supports the effort to turn one’s own ideas into reality. But if it becomes too dominant, it can also narrow the perspective. What surprises and new encounters can arise when we set aside our ambitions, at least for a while, and invite someone to co-curate, whose idea of a good, bold program differs from ours? What can we learn? Let’s wait for the moment when we see how what they have co-curated resonates in unexpected, unusual ways. Take a look at the audience they have gathered, an audience we may rarely see in our venue, in our district, in our field. Host a good party for them.

3. The figure of an individual expert. Letting go of the image of the curator as an individual expert may take time and effort, as it is deeply embedded in the myth that has shaped the contemporary art world in Europe: the modernist figure of an autonomous, talented individual. A charismatic leader, an omnipotent specialist — so well-connected, so well-informed. A super-powered person who seemingly never gets tired. If they do, it means they are too weak for their job. How many times have we heard that — from colleagues, from employers, at schools? Saying goodbye to this model of curating can feel frightening: what if it's seen as a defeat, as proof that you really are not good enough? But the weight of this transformation will not rest on your shoulders alone. Once you begin shifting your practice toward a more collaborative one, you’re no longer the only person who provides, cares for, and maintains the space – it becomes maintained by many. You will still feel tired, disillusioned, anxious, lost at times. But now, you’ll also be able to step back when needed – others will hold the space until you return. And perhaps, at last, you’ll have companions to walk with you along the path you've always dreamed of, but never dared to chart. That is the real superpower.

4. Letting go of the dominant understanding of curatorial practice as something reserved for “experts” or “professionals” (whatever that may mean) is likely to be met with distrust. After one of the festivals co-curated by teenagers, a critic argued that we had taken space that should be reserved for professionals. That came as no surprise: initiatives such as The Shake Down are often seen as excessive, perhaps even threatening to established ways the performing arts field operates. And rightly so. They risk shaking dominant patterns and create space for new ones to emerge. This process will, inevitably, stir discomfort and provoke anxiety from time to time. Be prepared for a backlash. Reach out to your allies, and become many to counter it. These alliances and friendships may turn out to be the most nourishing ingredients of this meal.

5. Loss of old patterns. The process of letting go of the old patterns needs time and space. They were useful at times: they protected us from falling, they supported the coherence of the practice, they made sure the favorite spices were always at hand. We might have gotten used to the flavors they formed: they felt good, known, comfortable. But letting go of them could open space for other, perhaps even more nourishing ones. And for the tastes you would have never imagined otherwise.

While weighting all these ingredients in your hands, think what else would you need to add to your farewell dish? Create your own list, and think about the tablecloth and lighting.

What would you need to let go of in order to make more space at your table?

How do you set the table, how many plates?

Marta Keil (PhD) is a dramaturge, curator and researcher, collaborating with various European institutions and artists. She currently works as tutor at DAS Theatre at the Academy for Theatre and Dance, Amsterdam University of the Arts.