Any views expressed within media held on this service are those of the contributors, should not be taken as approved or endorsed by the University, and do not necessarily reflect the views of the University in respect of any particular issue.
Hanyun Xue / Curating (2024-2025)[SEM2]

Tag: Participatory Art

W12-A Curatorial Experiment at Summerhall–Fear as a Method

By

On 21 April 2025

In Curatorial Experiment at Summerhall, 💬 Peer Exchange & Curatorial Dialogue

Part 1:

Introduction

Before anything else, let me show you what we made.
This is the title slide from our final curatorial presentation:

Please click the link to view

Fear as a Method

link:https://blogs.ed.ac.uk/s2500923_curating-2024-2025sem2/wp-content/uploads/sites/11192/2025/04/Fear-as-a-Method.pdf

(Fear as a Method A sensory workshop. March 29, 2025 · Summerhall · In Vitro Gallery)

Our PPT laid out the structure, intent, and emotional architecture of the workshop.
We framed fear not as pathology but as a method—
a curatorial tool to explore perception, misjudgment, and emotional co-creation.

We offered no art objects. No polished installations.
What we gave participants was a guided pathway—
through touch, sound, spatial disorientation, and quiet reflection.

They left not with answers, but with a method.
And we, as curators, left with better questions.

This blog is a reflection on how that happened.
Not just how we built the workshop,
but how the workshop built us.

Part 2:

Curatorial review and reflection

I. Where It All Began: Feeling Our Way Into a Method

We didn’t begin with a perfect concept. We began with a shared feeling—something more like a hunch than a plan.

It was early March, and the four of us—Yiran, Yufan, Lingqiu, and I—were tucked into a quiet café corner, half-lost in conversation, half-sketching thoughts onto napkins. What kept coming up was this strange, slippery word: fear. Not as an idea to explain, but as a sensation we couldn’t quite pin down. I remember looking up and asking:
“What if fear isn’t something we display, but something we practice—something we can stay with, even gently rehearse?”
And that was it. That question became the doorway to everything that followed.

Right from the beginning, I didn’t want to make an exhibition people only looked at. I wanted to make something people felt through. We proposed the central theme—Fear as a Method—as a way to move away from visuals, and into something more internal: a participatory, sensory, body-centered experience. Not therapy. Not theatre. Just a quiet space where people could encounter their fear—not to fix it, but to understand it differently.

II. Building from the Course: Three Weeks that Shaped Everything

W4: Curatorial Ethics

This week changed our entire approach to curating. It taught our to think not only about what we show, but how people feel when moving through a space. Inspired by course readings on care, vulnerability, and bodily safety (O’Neill, Wilson), We began designing the workshop route not as a gallery but as an emotional threshold.

I made key decisions here:

  • Using soft materials like feathers and ribbon to create sensory ambiguity.
  • Incorporating ambient sound layers that blend comfort and tension.
  • Emphasizing psychological safety while gently pushing discomfort.

Our route was not designed for clarity, but for internal resonance.

(The photographer of the event photos: Yiran Gu)

W6: Artist-led Curation

This week’s examples reminded me that a curator can also be a facilitator, a host, or a listener. I saw the power of allowing others to co-create the emotional temperature of a project.

We structured the workshop so that each participant could move at their own pace, in silence, blindfolded, uninterrupted. I personally designed the route flow and sound transitions to support this rhythm, ensuring people could drift inward.

During testing, I adjusted the transitions between sensory stations based on what participants felt—not what we expected. My role became not just designer, but emotional cartographer.

(“Fear as a Method” sensory route – exhibition layout sketch, April 2025. Includes Blindfold Zone, Crunch Floor, Ribbon Installations, Producer of the effect drawing: Yiran Gu.)

W9: Publishing as Curation

This week was perhaps the most transformative for me. We studied “The Phone is the Keyhole; The Penpot, the Heart” and I was completely moved. Their refusal of polish, their embrace of emotional honesty, and their prioritizing of friendship as method helped me see publishing not as post-event documentation, but as an integral part of the curatorial experience.

So I proposed:

“Let’s make the back side of our zine a toolkit.”
“Not just to reflect, but to use. Something they can take away.”

I designed the emotional kit section with fill-in prompts, soft design choices, and handwritten elements—so participants could continue the workshop privately, on their own terms.

(Zine mock-up: Designed and written by the team, All images are co-created by the event participants. )

III. Making and Unmaking: Group Process and Living Diagrams

Our group worked in Miro constantly. Looking back, our board doesn’t just show logistics—it shows our thinking style: layered, nonlinear, highly emotional. We mapped quotes, fears, diagrams, workshop flows, and even doubt. The board became a record of not just what we did, but how we made decisions. This was also the first time I felt fully comfortable disagreeing in a group—I knew my ideas (and feelings) had space.

Together we refined:

  • The misjudgment stations (I curated the sound textures).
  • The route structure (I directed how the body flows).
  • The language tone (I crafted the closing reflection speech).
  • The publication design (I created the concept for the emotional takeaway page). (Miro process map – team discussion and emotional mapping Screenshot from team Miro board, March 2025. Author: Team archive.)

IV. The Workshop: A Rehearsal for Courage

On the day of the workshop, I was nervous. Not about logistics, but about whether people would actually feel something. We weren’t showing art. We were inviting people to surrender their sight, to misjudge, to be vulnerable.

At the end of the route, I delivered the final speech:

Thank you for walking this path.
Maybe you didn’t guess anything right.
Maybe you startled yourself.
Maybe—you weren’t afraid at all.

Sometimes, fear isn’t a mistake. It’s a reminder.
It says: “There’s something here that frightens you.”
Maybe it’s a memory.
Maybe it’s something from childhood.

In the dark, fear becomes clearer.
But often, fear comes not from what’s real—
but from what we imagine.
Reality is rarely as terrifying as our minds make it out to be.

When you realise that what you’re afraid of
is actually a past wound speaking,
and when you gather the courage to face it—
that fear may already be halfway gone.

Now, write one sentence—
a message for a future version of yourself who might be afraid.
When fear returns, how will you remind yourself?

Remind yourself that we always have courage.
Enough to face one unknown after another.

This is the little method you take with you today.
A quiet piece of courage that belongs only to you.

They took the zines. They wrote themselves notes for the future.
And I watched them place those sticky notes on the wall—
each one a small sentence of survival.

V.Team Roles and Contributions

1. Hanyun Xue — Experience Curator (Emotional Facilitator)
As the group’s emotional anchor, Hanyun served as the guide and psychological support throughout the experience. With her background in art and counseling, she shaped the language of comfort and trust. Her voice—calm, attentive, and clear—helped participants navigate their fear safely, especially in moments of sensory disorientation.

2. Lingqiu Xiao — Spatial Choreographer (The Lobby Manager)
As the “lobby manager” of our emotional space, Lingqiu took charge of real-time movement and crowd coordination. Like a stage choreographer, she arranged the physical flow of participants with a sharp eye for timing and calm control. From managing transitions to maintaining safety during blindfolded routes, she held the space with both precision and empathy.

3. Yiran Gu — Sensory Orchestrator (Media & Technical Lead)
Acting as our behind-the-scenes technician, Yiran handled both sound design and video documentation. She composed the atmospheric sound layers and recorded the workshop with sensitivity—capturing fleeting gestures, silences, and reactions. Her work preserved the ephemeral feeling of the event and helped us build a self-archive rooted in emotion.

4. Yufan Wang — Service Narrator (Flow & Discipline Coordinator)
Taking on the role of “discipline coordinator,” Yufan made sure everything ran smoothly. She oversaw timing, participant rhythm, and station transitions. Quiet but ever-present, she was the backstage voice who ensured that nothing felt rushed or chaotic. Her sense of order gave structure to the experience—and her steady presence made it feel secure.

My Role, My Reflection

Task Description
Theme Initiation Proposed the core concept “Fear as a Method” during the first brainstorming session.
Sound Design Selected and edited sound textures for sensory misjudgment zones (e.g. insects, feathers).
Route Planning Designed the blindfolded walking route; guided spatial pacing and emotional rhythm.
Emotional Toolkit Design (Zine) Created the reflective back page of the zine with writing prompts and coping actions.
Closing Speech Wrote and delivered the final speech during the workshop to reflect on emotional insights.
Exhibition Recap (PPT) Co-developed the final presentation slides on team roles, outcomes, and reflections.

1: Research

We applied emotional ethics (W4), sensory curation (W6), and affective publishing (W9) directly into the design of this project. We referenced not only course texts but practices by artists like Marina Abramović (who uses presence as method), and Tramway’s Jarman exhibition (W7), which made private pain public without aestheticizing it.

2: Practice

I coordinated theme direction, sensory station design, wrote and delivered the workshop’s closing, and authored the emotional reflection page in the zine. I also curated sound elements, choreographed the route, and contributed to visual consistency in our publishing and video documentation.

3: Reflection

I realised that curating isn’t about “creating something to be looked at.” It’s about creating a space where something can happen—for real people, in real time. The workshop was about trust. And we earned it.

VI. Outcomes Are Not Just Outputs

Our project ultimately consisted of four interwoven outcomes:

  • Our curatorial presentation (PPT), which archived our judgment, not just our actions.

Fear as a Method

Looking Back, and Forward

Fear as a Method was not perfect—but it was personal, alive, and full of care. We didn’t aim to heal people. We offered them a method to rehearse feeling, misjudgment, and return.

It taught me what kind of curator I want to be:
Not a guide. Not a gatekeeper.
But a quiet facilitator of difficult feeling.

That, to me, is where curating begins.

Blog 6 – Ethics & Inclusion | Whose Voices Count?

By

On 13 April 2025

In ✨ Individual Curatorial Project: Fluid Curating

W4 (Curatorial Ethics), W9 (Methods), W10 (Publics)

I started with a question:
Whose voices do we trust enough to let them shape the exhibition?

Consent, Not Contribution

In participatory curation, asking for input isn’t enough. We need to ask: how is that input used, attributed, stored, reshaped?

Visitors to Fluid Curating can share interpretations through the Woolclap platform, leave voice notes at the sound wall, or write directly onto the co-authored curatorial wall. But before any of these are made public—whether projected, printed, or posted—I offer clear options for anonymity, attribution, and withdrawal.
No voice enters the archive without its owner’s choice.

This principle draws on Gevers’ idea of “curating as context” (2013), where creating interpretive space includes creating consent space. It’s not about gathering stories for effect—it’s about constructing frameworks where stories can live with dignity and on their own terms.

Inclusion Isn’t Atmosphere—It’s Infrastructure

Too often, exhibitions proclaim inclusivity as a tone.
I wanted mine to reflect it in the structure.

Following the lessons of Fletcher and Pierce’s Paraeducation Department (2010), I’ve looked at Fluid Curating as a platform where knowledge doesn’t flow in one direction. Working with students in TESOL, Inclusive Design, and Art Education, we’ve translated key exhibition content into multiple languages, created tactile signage, and provided verbal cue cards for blind or low-vision participants.

We also installed “quiet time”—pathways with minimal audio and movement, to allow neurodivergent visitors more time and space. Participation isn’t timed by the exhibition’s speed; it unfolds at the visitor’s own rhythm. As DisplayCult (2016) argue, affective experience is a form of labour. So this exhibition makes space for rest, silence, and slower modes of meaning-making.

Home [www.victoriesnautism.com]

( Example of multilingual verbal cue cards)

Publics Are Not Pre-Defined

Simon Sheikh (2010) reminds us that exhibitions don’t merely reflect publics—they produce them. This idea reframed how I saw my responsibility.

Rather than trying to imagine one singular “ideal audience,” I thought about what it means to hold space for unplanned publics: the passerby, the hesitant, the first-timer, the child, the migrant visitor.

Each contribution is a potential act of authorship—not simply commentary. And that shifts the ethics. If we honour those inputs, we also honour the role of the curator as listener, not just organiser. That’s why I built Woolclap around anonymous entries and multilingual response portals. These aren’t decoration. They are architecture.

Why This Matters

Martinon (2013) describes the role of curators as those who refuse to totalise meaning. That’s the ethics I’m drawn to—not just inclusion as presence, but inclusion as epistemic permission.

So in Fluid Curating, every ethical decision—whether it’s signage design or story ownership—emerges from one belief:
No voice should have to ask for permission to be part of the conversation.

Citations

  • Beech, Dave. 2010. “Weberian Lessons: Art, Pedagogy and Managerialism.” In Curating and the Educational Turn, edited by Paul O’Neill and Mick Wilson, 47–60. London: Open Editions / Amsterdam: De Appel.

  • DisplayCult (Jim Drobnick and Jennifer Fisher). 2016. “Curating the City: Collectioneering and the Affects of Display.” In The Artist as Curator, edited by Celina Jeffery, 151–68. Bristol: Intellect.

  • Fletcher, Annie, and Sarah Pierce. 2010. “Introduction to The Paraeducation Department.” In Curating and the Educational Turn, edited by Paul O’Neill and Mick Wilson, 198–99. London: Open Editions / Amsterdam: De Appel.

  • Gevers, Ine. 2013. “Curating: The Art of Creating Contexts.” In The Curatorial: A Philosophy of Curating, edited by Jean-Paul Martinon, 217–26. London: Bloomsbury Academic.

  • Jeffery, Celina. 2016. “Introduction: The Artist as Curator.” In The Artist as Curator, edited by Celina Jeffery, 1–20. Bristol: Intellect.

  • Martinon, Jean-Paul. 2013. “Becoming-Curator.” In The Curatorial: A Philosophy of Curating, edited by Jean-Paul Martinon, 69–81. London: Bloomsbury Academic.

  • O’Neill, Paul, and Mick Wilson, eds. 2015. Curating and the Educational Turn. London: Black Dog Publishing.

  • Sheikh, Simon. 2010. “Letter to Jane (Investigation of a Function).” In Curating and the Educational Turn, edited by Paul O’Neill and Mick Wilson, 70–71. London: Open Editions / Amsterdam: De Appel.

Blog 3 – Mediums & Artists | How CAP Artists Complete My Vision

By

On 12 April 2025

In ✨ Individual Curatorial Project: Fluid Curating

From Medium to Method: Why Participation is Not a Detail, but a Design

When I first imagined Fluid Curating, I thought of systems and formats: interactive platforms, voting walls, flexible spaces. But it wasn’t until I stepped into the CAP studios that I realized this project had a pulse—and it beat in the artworks of my peers.

During the CAP × CAT Curatorial Encounter (Week 8), I was introduced to a series of participatory works by emerging artists that didn’t just use audience interaction—they needed it. These weren’t completed artworks waiting for interpretation. They were frameworks in waiting, systems unfinished, until the viewer stepped in. In them, I saw the living embodiment of what I had only theorized: curatorial decentralization.

Artist 1: Chen Sijia
In her SQUEEZE ME series (2024), Chen Sijia creates silicone-based objects that invite the audience to physically press, bend, and manipulate the surfaces—transforming passive spectators into haptic co-performers. Her 2025 piece Matree, Patree takes it further: participants use pipe cleaners to modify a rigid genealogical structure, collectively rewriting family trees.

“Her work embodies the tension between personal and political inheritance. The audience doesn’t just watch, they rewrite.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why she fits: Sijia’s practice resonates with Jacques Rancière’s idea of the emancipated spectator (2009). Her work empowers audiences to act, not just reflect.

Artist 2: Jia Xudong
With The Banality of Evil (2025), Jia uses TouchDesigner to create an interactive video work where digital flowers bloom in proportion to the number of viewers in the room. The more eyes, the more “evil” it becomes—a haunting commentary on complicity and collective violence.

“It’s a real-time ethical question rendered as art. And it cannot function without the audience.”

Why he fits: His work echoes Paul O’Neill’s notion of curating as an expanded educational space (Curating and the Educational Turn, 2010), prompting not only interaction but self-inquiry.

Artist 3: Fiza
Fiza’s Mimosa Touch installation offers a botanical metaphor for sensitivity and response. The work reacts to the audience’s touch like a plant—folding, shifting, responding. Viewers aren’t just visitors, they are caretakers.

“It’s a choreography between the human and the vegetal—a shared sensory world.”

Why she fits: Her work supports my shift away from technological spectacle and towards relational aesthetics, as described by Nicolas Bourriaud (1998).

Artist 4: Keyi Ju
Keyi constructs multisensory interventions that simulate estrangement: obstructing vision, heightening sound, manipulating touch. Her installations are gentle disorientations that require full audience presence. The space becomes not a gallery, but a body.

“Her work makes you feel like a guest in your own skin. That friction is where meaning is made.”

Why she fits: Keyi’s use of spatial perception echoes Aneta Szyłak’s theory of “curating context” (The Curatorial, 2013), where space and sensation are integral to meaning.

From Artist Works to Curatorial Logic

Each of these artists confirmed that my curatorial vision didn’t need to invent participation—it needed to host it. Their work led me to restructure my exhibition around living systems that respond to presence.

I no longer separate artwork from structure. The mediums here are not only silicone, projection, wire, or sound. They are interaction, negotiation, friction. These artists are not exhibitors. They are co-authors of a curatorial body that breathes with its audience.

In choosing them, I made a choice not to curate around a theme, but around a method: participation as method, not motif. That’s what makes Fluid Curating truly fluid.

Bibliography

  • Bourriaud, Nicolas. 1998. Relational Aesthetics. Dijon: Les Presses du Réel.

  • Martinon, Jean-Paul, ed. 2013. The Curatorial: A Philosophy of Curating. London: Bloomsbury Academic.

  • O’Neill, Paul, and Mick Wilson, eds. 2010. Curating and the Educational Turn. London: Open Editions / Amsterdam: De Appel.

  • Rancière, Jacques. 2009. The Emancipated Spectator. London: Verso.

  • Szyłak, Aneta. 2013. “Curating Context.” In The Curatorial: A Philosophy of Curating, edited by Jean-Paul Martinon, 217–226. London: Bloomsbury Academic.

Blog 1 – Project Title & Narrative｜From Authority to Co-Creation: Why I Curate “Fluidly”

By

On 12 April 2025

In ✨ Individual Curatorial Project: Fluid Curating

Curatorial Narrative: From Top-down Authority to Distributed Dialogue

When I first imagined Fluid Curating, I wasn’t interested in simply organizing an exhibition. I wanted to challenge something deeper: the invisible lines of power that often define who gets to choose, explain, and validate meaning in art. Traditional curating—though rich in historical methods—often centers on a single authoritative voice. What if we reimagine this voice as a chorus? What if meaning could emerge from conversation rather than instruction?

My project stems from this desire to shift away from the curator as sovereign. I was inspired by early discussions in Week 1 and Week 2 around institutions, platforms, and authorship, and began asking: who really holds curatorial power, and who gets to speak? These reflections led me to decentralisation, not as a purely technical gesture, but as a curatorial attitude—one that opens space, redistributes authorship, and invites collective meaning-making.

This shift isn’t just conceptual. It has emotional and ethical stakes. My vision for Fluid Curating is built around co-creation: an ecosystem where artists, audiences, and curators share responsibility for shaping not only the content of the exhibition, but its rhythm, its routes, and its interpretation.

Curatorial Questions Driving the Exhibition

  • Can meaning be co-authored rather than delivered?
  • What happens when audiences don’t just observe, but write, vote, and narrate?
  • If we design for decentralisation, does power truly move—or just appear to?

These questions echo many discussed in our course, especially those explored during Week 4 (Curatorial Ethics), Week 9 (Publishing as Curating), and Week 10 (Publics and Participation). They continue to guide my decisions—from spatial design to media choice, from participation structure to the ethics of attribution.

What Fluid Curating Means in Practice

Fluid Curating is not only a name, but a structure—one that puts decentralisation into curatorial action. It proposes an exhibition framework that cannot be completed without the audience. It is not “for” them, but “with” them.

The space is designed as a rhizomatic grid rather than a linear pathway, enabling visitors to navigate freely, remap meaning, and even rename spaces using coloured tape trails. The artworks—primarily participatory installations by CAP artists and invited collaborators—remain open-ended until activated by audience interaction. Visitors become necessary co-authors in bringing the work to life.

Interpretation is equally decentralised. Audiences can scan a QR code to access a shared platform (via Woolclap) where they co-write curatorial texts, share voice notes, and reflect in real time. These contributions are updated and projected daily, forming a “living wall of meaning” that evolves with each visitor’s presence.

Display arrangements are not fixed. Every three days, works are reconfigured based on audience feedback, voting, and engagement metrics. Exhibition design becomes fluid—data-driven but people-responsive.

After the show, audience-created content will be compiled into a collectively-authored Zine, capturing curatorial texts, sound fragments, and reflections. A summary market report will also be generated to visualize interaction heatmaps, keyword clusters, and value perception trends—offering emerging artists and institutions new insights into participatory demand.

This is not a spectacle of participation—it is an invitation to redefine curating itself.

Case Studies: Inspirations That Changed My Curatorial Lens

Several exhibitions and curatorial models became reference points:

  • Documenta 11’s “Platforms” (2002) replaced one curatorial voice with many.

  • Gwangju Biennale’s “Roundtable Curating” model reimagined curation as circular and collective.

  • Manifesta 6 and its offshoots like Night School transformed exhibition into experimental schools.

  • Copenhagen Free University and Tania Bruguera’s Arte de Conducta redefined artists as curators of knowledge and experience.

Together, these cases helped me see how fluid, participatory, and educational models decentralise curatorial control and share authorship with artists and publics.

Soft Reflection: From Concept to Commitment

Rather than offering a separate reflection section, I believe my project’s material and structural changes speak for themselves. Through studio visits with CAP artists, peer review exchanges, and in-class provocations, I came to see co-creation not as a supplement to curating, but as its generative core.

The move away from speculative technologies (NFTs, blockchain, AI) toward something more grounded—student-led, low-cost, audience-responsive—wasn’t a compromise. It was a choice. A choice to center experience over infrastructure, participation over programming.

As Rancière reminds us in The Emancipated Spectator, the act of seeing is never passive—it is interpretative, active, and political. Fluid Curating doesn’t just accept this—it designs for it.

Citations

  • Jeffery, Celina. The Artist as Curator. Bristol: Intellect, 2016.

  • Macdonald, Sarah. Exhibition Experiments. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007.

  • Martinon, Jean-Paul. The Curatorial: A Philosophy of Curating. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013.

  • O’Neill, Paul, and Mick Wilson. Curating and the Educational Turn. London: Open Editions, 2010.

  • Smith, Terry. Thinking Contemporary Curating. New York: Independent Curators International (ICI), 2012.

W10 Reflective Blog: Rethinking “Fluid Curating” – From Conceptual Ambition to Grounded Possibility

By

On 27 March 2025

In ✨ Individual Curatorial Project: Fluid Curating

Reflective Blog: Rethinking “Fluid Curating” – From Conceptual Ambition to Grounded Possibility

1. Initial Vision: A Decentralized, Tech-Driven Exhibition

When I first began shaping the idea for Fluid Curating, my ambition was to create a dynamic, audience-led exhibition model that fully embraced decentralization—where curatorial authority would no longer rest solely with the curator but be shared with artists, audiences, and market forces.
I was drawn to terms like “NFT,” “blockchain,” and “Web3,” which seemed to promise transparency, open participation, and algorithmic co-curation.
Inspired by digital culture and new media trends, I envisioned a hybrid exhibition across a physical site and online platform, with real-time artwork reconfiguration based on audience voting and NFT market trends.

2. Critical Feedback and Conceptual Challenges

However, during peer review and my tutorial feedback, I was faced with key challenges that pushed me to rethink this plan.

One major issue was the conceptual clarity of some core elements. My peer reviewer, Yuhang Yang, questioned how terms like NFT and blockchain—actually supported the idea of a “fluid” or time-sensitive curatorial logic. As I reflected on this, I began to see the contradiction: while my project sought to highlight ephemerality, transformation, and flux, NFTs, by their very nature, are mechanisms for permanence, ownership, and archival preservation. Their association with speculative market value also risked reducing curatorial decision-making to financial metrics, which ran counter to the community-led values I wanted to embrace.

Another question raised during feedback was: What tool or system could actually support this curatorial complexity in practice? I realized my original plan combined too many advanced technologies and open-ended processes without clearly demonstrating how they would function together. As a result, the exhibition risked becoming fragmented—more of a conceptual collage than a coherent experience.

Beyond conceptual concerns, there were also practical limitations. My initial choice of venue—FACT Liverpool—was exciting but ultimately unrealistic. The projected budget far exceeded the £2000 limit.
The technical demands, duration, and uncertainty of long-term online platform maintenance added more instability.

These challenges didn’t discourage me—instead, they became catalysts for productive rethinking.

3. Turning Point: Visiting Participatory Works by CAP Students

A defining moment in my curatorial journey came during a joint event between CAT (Contemporary Art Theory) and CAP (Contemporary Art Practice) students.

blog link:

https://blogs.ed.ac.uk/s2500923_curating-2024-2025sem2/2025/03/16/%f0%9f%8e%a1-w9-speed-curating-at-cat-x-cap-conversations-that-sparked-something-real/

This experience moved me deeply. I was struck by the raw potential of these young artists, their vulnerability, and their innovative use of participation. Many works relied on interaction—audiences speaking, touching, or altering the piece to complete it.

And suddenly, something clicked.

I had spent so much time trying to simulate “fluidity” through technology—imagining algorithmically shifting displays, blockchain-backed value systems, ever-changing screen layouts.


I thought decentralisation meant sophisticated mechanisms: rapid visual updates, complex voting platforms, market-responsive curation. But here, right in front of me, were works that already embodied decentralisation, through something more organic: Audience participation.

These artworks didn’t need flashy screens or AI sensors. What they needed was space—for the audience to step in, to shape meaning, to complete the work.

I realised that the artists and I had been walking parallel paths—both seeking to blur authorship, to soften control, to share decision-making. In that moment, I saw myself not as a controller of space, but as a facilitator of resonance. My curatorial voice didn’t have to dominate; it could listen, invite, and hold.

This was the real turning point. I let go of the need for tech-heavy infrastructure and embraced a more grounded, people-centered approach.

4. Rethinking Participation: From Tech to Human Presence

Around the same time, I was writing peer feedback for Xuchuyue’s curatorial project. She used opera not just as a theme, but as a structural framework—with rhythm, tension, and release shaping the audience’s emotional journey.

Her approach made me question my own assumptions. I had believed audience engagement needed to be mediated through technology. But her project reminded me: participation can begin with something far simpler. Inviting someone into another’s story, another’s voice, can be a powerful act of decentralization.

I began asking myself: Where does emotion happen in my exhibition? Have I left enough space for people to feel, not just interact?

What I’ve Learned

This journey has taught me that decentralization in curating isn’t just a structural or technological shift—it’s a relational practice. It means inviting people in, letting go of control, and designing with sensitivity to affect, ethics, and community.

Reading and responding to Xuchuyue’s work opened my eyes to emotional architecture. Visiting the CAP studios showed me the strength of collaboration over spectacle. And listening to feedback forced me to ask hard but important questions.

In the end, Fluid Curating is no longer a conceptual ambition suspended in technical abstraction. It is now a practice grounded in people, space, and story—one that breathes, listens, and changes with those who participate.

cover

W2-Initial Thoughts on My Curatorial Project

By

On 27 January 2025

In ✨ Individual Curatorial Project: Fluid Curating

Title: Speculative Curation: Exploring Symbolic Power in the Art Market 🎨💡

 

Introduction: My Theme and Background

 

Lately, I’ve been brainstorming ideas for my curatorial project, and I’ve decided to focus on “Value Construction and Symbolic Power in the Art Market.” This theme was inspired by my personal experiences—working at Sotheby’s made me realize that the value of art isn’t just about the work itself. It’s shaped by a complex interplay of cultural, economic, and social factors. The price tag? That’s just the surface. The real power lies in the narratives and systems behind it.

This theme aligns perfectly with the values of our course, especially the ideas of relational and critical curating. I want my project to explore how auctions construct cultural meanings and challenge viewers to rethink the invisible mechanisms of the art world.

 

Initial Research and Course Insights

As I began my research, the concept of the “Capitalocene” (thanks to our lectures!) became a key lens for my thinking. It frames capitalism as a force that shapes not just economies but also culture and societal structures. This helped me see the art market as more than a transactional space—it’s a microcosm of modern power dynamics.

One example that stood out during our class discussions was the “24/7” exhibition (2020, Somerset House). This show explored the relationship between time and consumer culture, and it sparked my thinking about how auctions—both brief and performative—are like ritualized spectacles of cultural value.

I’ve also been diving into the work of Andreas Gursky, particularly his piece 99 Cent (1999). His hyperreal depiction of consumerism highlights the tension between the mundane and the symbolic—something I think is deeply relevant to the art market.

📖 References:

•Gursky, A. (1999). 99 Cent. C-Print.

•Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste. Harvard University Press.

 

Gursky, A. (1999). 99 Cent. C-Print.

(Source:https://www.andreasgursky.com/en/works/1999/99-cent/zoom:1)

 

 

 

Speculative Curation: My Format and Approach

For my project, I’m envisioning a participatory, interactive exhibition that simulates the experience of an art auction. My goal? To let visitors step into the roles of bidders and experience how value is constructed in real-time. Here’s my current plan:

🎤 Main Exhibition Areas:

1.“The Auction Room”:

•A multimedia installation recreating the atmosphere of a high-profile auction. Participants can bid on artworks using virtual tokens, deciding on their value based on provided backstories.

2.“Behind the Scenes”:

•A display showing how artworks are marketed and their values shaped by institutions, media, and collectors.

🤝 Interactive Elements:

•Visitors will anonymously “bid” on artworks and see how their choices affect the final outcome.

•A live projection of data will show how each piece’s “value” evolves based on audience participation.

This participatory model reflects the “relational curating” we discussed in class. By involving the audience, I hope to transform them from passive viewers into active participants in the symbolic power dynamics of the art world.

 

Critical Reflection: Challenges and Next Steps

Of course, the complexity of this theme presents challenges:

1.Simplifying Complexity:

•The art market involves multiple layers (economic, cultural, political). How do I simplify this for my audience without oversimplifying the meaning?

2.Engaging Participation:

•How do I ensure visitors engage meaningfully with the auction simulation, rather than seeing it as just a “game”?

To tackle these, I plan to:

•Research case studies of famous auctions (e.g., record-breaking Sotheby’s sales) to find accessible yet impactful examples.

•Get feedback from peers and tutors to refine the interactive elements and ensure they resonate with viewers.

 

Next Steps and What I’m Looking Forward To

🔍 What’s next?

1.I’ll dive deeper into auction case studies and symbolic capital theories.

2.Begin drafting initial sketches of the exhibition layout and interactive elements.

3.Share my ideas in group discussions to get feedback and refine my approach.

✨ What I hope to gain:

•Insights from my classmates on how to make the interactive elements more impactful.

•Suggestions on how to balance the educational and participatory aspects of the project.

 

Closing Thoughts

Writing this blog has helped me organize my thoughts and refine my project focus. I’m excited to explore how art auctions are not just about selling artworks but about constructing entire systems of meaning and power. I look forward to getting feedback from everyone—every perspective helps me improve! 😊

(P.S. If you’ve been to an art auction or have thoughts about symbolic power in art, I’d love to hear your insights in the comments! 💬)

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