Tag: participatory practice

If I had to describe these three group events in one word, it would be: alive. Not just because we were surrounded by real flowers and blooming ideas, but because the experience of making something together—as a team—felt truly vibrant.

🎬 Collective Event 1: Film Sharing Afternoon at Summerhall

On March 20, our curatorial collective gathered in the Collective Space at Summerhall for a film-sharing session. We didn’t set out to impress or instruct—our only goal was to feel together. And that’s exactly what happened.

Each of us brought a short experimental video—mostly from UbuWeb, some from YouTube—and we watched them one by one. No lectures, no long analysis. Just a few soft words on why we chose what we chose, and then a moment of stillness to sit with what we saw.

I shared Joan Jonas – Left Side Right Side (1972)
🔗 Link to film

It’s a raw, direct piece that uses the body and the camera to challenge how we see. Jonas’s gestures—moving from left to right, shifting her gaze—felt like she was handing over control of the frame to us. I chose this work because it captures something I want to explore in “Fluid Curating”: what happens when we surrender authority and invite others to take part? What does curatorial space feel like when it becomes shared, intimate, and unstable?

Film Selections

Here are some of the works we watched together:

Staff at Moderna Museet by Annika Eriksson
Cycles by Zeinabu irene Davis
Why Modern Art is so Expensive? by Business Insider
Singing in the Rain by Gene Kelly & Stanley Donen
Interior Scroll – The Cave by Carolee Schneemann
Love Sequences – Qanun by Gobelins
Inspirator by Abigail Lane
Lanvin, Alka-Seltzer, Veterano ads by Salvador Dalí
The Neighbor’s Window by Marshall Curry

Each one offered a different way of sensing—through rhythm, silence, contradiction, or vulnerability. Together, they formed a constellation of emotional and visual textures.

（The poster designed by Sarah）

Collaborative Setup

What I appreciated most was the way we worked as a group. Someone brought popcorn, another taped up the windows to dim the light, someone else set up the projector. We didn’t assign roles like a production team—we just moved together, intuitively, like a collective with shared purpose.

This event reminded me that curating is not just about objects or spaces—it’s about shared energy. In that room, every gesture felt like part of the exhibition already.

Sometimes, curating doesn’t need walls or text panels. Sometimes, it begins with a projector on a wobbly table, a dim room, and a handful of people ready to sit quietly with each other. This was more than a screening. It was a rehearsal for the kind of curating I want to practice: slow, shared, and emotionally intelligent.

💻 Summerhall Event 2 – Entering the World of Artsteps

This session was like stepping into a new dimension. Our teammate Beichen (a.k.a. our unofficial tech guide!) introduced us to Artsteps, an online tool for building virtual exhibitions. At first, it felt a bit like a game—dragging walls, resizing images—but then I realised: this is curation in action.

Together, we explored how to build a digital space that reflects a shared vision. Not just uploading images, but thinking about:

How does someone move through this exhibition?
Where should a pause happen?
Can digital silence feel like breathing space?

I loved seeing how everyone brought something to the table—some coded quietly, some discussed lighting effects, others helped title walls or test the walkthroughs. It wasn’t just about digital skills. It was about shared authorship.

This is curatorial practice in its expanded field: merging tech, aesthetics, collaboration, and playful experimentation.

🌸 Summerhall Event 3 – Flower Arranging with Feeling

From screen to stem, the next session took us in the opposite direction—back to the material world.

We gathered for a flower arranging session. It wasn’t a workshop in the formal sense. No one was “teaching” us. Instead, it was something more beautiful: a space to create side by side. Each of us brought different flowers, and as we sat together on the wooden floor, trimming stems and passing colors to each other, something shifted.

This wasn’t just about arranging flowers. It was about arranging time, presence, and attention.
There were no rules, just silent understandings. A shared sense of “you add that, I’ll hold this.”
The bouquets we made were different, but they all reflected the gentleness of co-creation.

I realised—curatingdoesn’t always begin with a concept. Sometimes it starts with care.

💬 Reflections on Practice

Looking back, these sessions taught me something vital. Curating isn’t just about selecting and displaying artworks. It’s also about learning how to be together—online and offline, formally and emotionally.

Whether building a virtual gallery or weaving petals into shape, we were always practicing:

Shared decision-making
Respecting differences in aesthetics and pace
Making space for everyone to contribute

These moments, simple as they were, grounded my belief that “fluid curating” begins with real people, working together, experimenting, laughing, failing, adjusting, and making something new.

And honestly? That’s the kind of exhibition I want to make. One that’s not perfect, but deeply human.

Apr 21, 2025

Blog 2 – Curatorial Thinking & Theoretical Framework｜Decentralisation Is a Practice, Not a Concept

By Hanyun Xue

On 12 April 2025

In ✨ Individual Curatorial Project: Fluid Curating

Curating Is Not a Job Title, It’s a Way of Listening

When I began planning Fluid Curating, I kept asking myself: what does it really mean to decentralise curatorial authority? Initially, I imagined decentralisation as a concept—something theoretical, perhaps even technological. But through our course readings and field experiences, I realised: decentralisation is not something you announce. It’s something you do.

It’s a shift in posture—from holding the frame, to holding the door open.

In Week 4, we discussed curatorial ethics, including the redistribution of narrative authority, especially in postcolonial and feminist contexts. I was drawn to the idea that curating can be a collaborative composition of context and meaning. The Week 6 seminar on artist-led initiatives further deepened this view. When artists become curators—not to replace the role but to redefine it—it opens up the field. This echoed in the Artist as Curator volume (Jeffery 2016), which reframed curation as part of artistic practice.

The more I read and witnessed, the more I understood decentralisation as a verb—a series of gestures, choices, and systems that invite others in, not as guests but as co-authors.

From Command to Collaboration: What My Research Changed

The readings from The Curatorial: A Philosophy of Curating (Martinon 2013) and Curating and the Educational Turn (O’Neill & Wilson 2010) challenged me to think beyond “the exhibition” as an end point. They suggest curation is an epistemic practice—a way of producing knowledge collectively.

Especially helpful was Aneta Szyłak’s concept of “curating context”, where the curator doesn’t impose meaning but hosts overlapping interpretations within a site-responsive framework. This helped me reframe my own curatorial role—not as a selector of fixed content, but as a facilitator of meaning in motion.

Rather than positioning myself above the artwork or audience, I began designing structures that shift attention horizontally. For example, in my project, audiences co-write curatorial texts, contribute sound responses, and alter spatial routes. These are not symbolic gestures; they’re core structuring methods.

This approach was affirmed by models like Documenta 11’s multi-site “Platforms”, Gwangju Biennale’s roundtable curating, and the Manifesta 6 art school model. All these positioned education, conversation, and collectivity as curatorial tools—not add-ons.

The Artist as Curator: An Anthology – Almine Rech Editions

（Book Cover: The Artist as Curator: An Anthology）

（Manifesta 6 was set to take place in Nicosia, Cyprus from 23 September to 17 December 2006.）

（Gallery: Transmission Gallery, Glasgow）

So, Why These Changes?

In Week 9, when we discussed curatorial methods and publishing as curating, I saw that language and access also shape curatorial power. If the only text in a show is written by me, then it doesn’t matter how many QR codes I place—authority hasn’t moved. That realisation led me to include textual co-creation and anonymous reflection stations.

I also returned to the work of artist-run centres (Transmission Gallery, City Racing), which taught me that infrastructure can itself be a curatorial act. By choosing simple, accessible tools like Woolclap, and a flexible venue like ECA’s lobby, I was building the kind of distributed, non-expert, generous framework I believed in.

What I Learned

Decentralisation isn’t an outcome—it’s an ongoing curatorial method.
To shift power, you must also shift authorship, visibility, and voice.
Artist-led models, collective formats, and non-hierarchical texts offer not just references but models for practice.

As I continue developing Fluid Curating, I hold this central idea:
The best curation doesn’t make meaning—it makes meaning possible.

Selected References

Jeffery, Celina, ed. The Artist as Curator. Bristol: Intellect, 2016.
Martinon, Jean-Paul, ed. The Curatorial: A Philosophy of Curating. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013.
O’Neill, Paul, and Mick Wilson, eds. Curating and the Educational Turn. London: Open Editions, 2010.
Szyłak, Aneta. “Curating Context.” In The Curatorial, edited by Jean-Paul Martinon, 217–226. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013.

Apr 12, 2025