Tag: Relational Aesthetics

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.

Apr 12, 2025

🎡 W9 (2) – Speed Curating at CAT × CAP: Conversations that Sparked Something Real

By Hanyun Xue

On 16 March 2025

In ✨ Individual Curatorial Project: Fluid Curating, 💬 Peer Exchange & Curatorial Dialogue, 🧭 Field Notes & Exhibition Visits

Hi everyone,

This week I participated in a special joint event between CAT (Contemporary Art Theory) and CAP (Contemporary Art Practice) students. We met not on Teams, but face-to-face in the West Court, and I have to say—it was more inspiring than I imagined.

The format was based on Speed Curating, a method adapted from the UK Arts Council. CAP students introduced their art practices in quick 2-minute bursts, while us CAT students shared five key curatorial interests. It was fast, a little chaotic, but filled with energy and curiosity.

🎨 Meeting Artists, Meeting Possibilities

As a CAT student working on my Fluid Curating project, this event was a goldmine. I heard so many artist presentations that aligned with what I’ve been thinking about—audience interaction, sensory engagement, performative gestures, and curating as a living process.

Some CAP students showed deeply personal work about memory, others presented interactive installations. I had some great chats about how audiences can intervene, not just observe; how we might co-create exhibitions where the boundaries between artist, curator, and viewer start to dissolve.

✨ My Five Curatorial Keywords

To help introduce my ideas during the event, I shared five key themes that define my practice. I’ll share them here too:

Decentralised Curation
I want to challenge top-down models. Can the audience’s decisions, movements, and emotions shape the exhibition just as much as the curators’?
Audience Intervention
I’m interested in how viewers might not just observe, but alter—touching, rearranging, or reshaping the work as part of the exhibition itself.
Co-Creation
Rather than presenting finished works, I want to collaborate with artists to create open structures where outcomes remain fluid and evolving.
Curation as Process
I see curating as something unfolding in time. Not a fixed result, but a process that’s shaped by those who enter the space and what they bring.
Shifting Curatorial Authority
What happens when curators give up control, and artists invite intervention? Can letting go create something more alive, more real?

These ideas became beautiful conversation starters. Some CAP students lit up when I described exhibitions as perception practice fields, or when I said, “What if we don’t design the message, but design a mood and let the rest happen?”

One of the artists, Sijia Chen, shared a tree with us—though not just any tree. This one was an installation made of welded steel branches, fuzzy pink yarn, and sparkling hanging ornaments. Right in the center stood a solid metal trunk, something she built herself.
She said it represents those immovable forces in our world—systems, structures, or maybe even fate. But what caught my attention were the branches. Around the steel frame, she invited us to add colorful bendable sticks (they had wires inside, so we could twist them into shapes).
People made spirals, loops, even strange little symbols. This wasn’t just decoration. She called it “an editable tree.”

And honestly, I loved that phrase.

The idea behind it was so powerful. Sure, the trunk—the core—is fixed. But everything around it? Open to change.
It’s a metaphor for participation within structure, for how individuals can intervene, re-shape, and re-narrate even within rigid systems. It reminded me so much of what I’m trying to do with Fluid Curating. Not to destroy the framework of exhibitions, but to invite others into it. To say, “Come, add your branch.” The editable tree became, in that moment, a perfect symbol of co-creation. It was poetic, but also quietly radical.

I walked away thinking: maybe my own curatorial space could offer this same gesture. A framework that’s solid, but soft around the edges. A space where people don’t just observe, but gently re-edit what’s there.

Another work that really stuck with me came from artist Xudong Jia. He showed us a digital interactive piece—on screen, it looked like pink flowers exploding outward, or maybe colorful ink swirling in water. It was beautiful at first glance, almost hypnotic.
Then he told us the title: The Evil Flower.

The screen was equipped with facial recognition. Every time someone approached, the image would shift. The flower would grow bigger, darker, more aggressive.
Jia explained that the piece was about the butterfly effect, about online violence—how no single snowflake in an avalanche is innocent. The more people watched, the more the flower “blamed” them.

It hit me hard. The interactivity wasn’t playful, it was accusatory. You weren’t in control of the work—it was confronting you. That twist in perspective really stayed with me. It wasn’t interaction for interaction’s sake; it was interaction as responsibility.
I kept thinking about how this could fit into my own idea of Fluid Curating—where audience behavior doesn’t just “complete” the exhibition, it actually shapes its emotional direction. What if interactivity could be unsettling? What if being seen by the artwork is part of the artwork?

This piece challenged me. And that’s exactly what I want my exhibitions to do.

🧠 Reflections and Next Steps

This session wasn’t just useful—it was moving. I left with several artists I’d love to follow up with. Some of them are exploring clay as a soft resistance. Others are working with sound, text, or ephemeral materials.
I can already imagine co-curating something gentle, open, and audience-responsive together.

In the next few weeks, I’ll be deepening my readings on participatory art and affective curating. I’ve already started noting quotes from Curating and the Educational Turn that feel like they’re speaking directly to what I’m trying to do:

“They seem to seek not the masterful production of expertise… but the co-production of question, ambiguity and enquiry.” (O’Neill and Wilson, 2013)

Yes. That’s exactly it.

This was more than a networking session. It was a seed-planting moment. And I’m already looking forward to what might grow.

Mar 16, 2025

W8-Tracing Emotion Through Space: Three Galleries, One Heart-My Field Notes from Glasgow

By Hanyun Xue

On 11 March 2025

In 📚 Curatorial Theory & Literature Reflection, 🧭 Field Notes & Exhibition Visits

🌙 Tracing Emotion Through Space: Three Galleries, One Heart
— My Field Notes from Glasgow

When I first set out for Glasgow, I didn’t think too much. I just felt it was always worth going to see some exhibitions. But I didn’t expect that this one-day journey would leave behind so many subtle ripples inside me.

🏛 First Stop: Hunterian

It looked like the kind of museum I had always imagined—rows of neatly aligned display cases, carefully controlled lighting, and spaces so clean they resembled laboratories.
The exhibition itself was powerful, dealing with colonial medicine, bodily control, and scientific violence. I stood in front of a wax anatomical model, and suddenly I realized: this wasn’t just about “presenting knowledge” it was also a kind of violence of being observed.

I began to ask myself: as curators, when we reconstruct these histories, is there a risk that we unknowingly repeat this gaze?

Thoughts of my own curatorial project floated into my mind. If I want to tell a story about the body and memory, how should I wrap that pain? With cold light? With silence? The rationality of Hunterian made me want to rebel.

That evening, I looked up several books and tried to process the confusion I felt. In Labour and Monopoly Capital, Harry Braverman’s analysis of Fordist labor made me wonder—does exhibition design also contain a form of knowledge division and a discipline of vision? Burton Benedict’s The Anthropology of World’s Fairs opened my eyes to how spatial atmospheres shape collective psychology, affecting how we read an object.

And then there was Propaganda and Empire by John M. MacKenzie. He reminds us that exhibitions don’t just present history, they actively construct it. That struck me deeply: if I want to explore bodies and power in my project, then form itself can never be neutral.

✨ Second Stop: Tramway

The moment I entered Tramway, I knew I’d remember it for a long time.

There was no prominent signage at the entrance, but inside, the gallery unfolded like a giant dream. Maud Sulter’s You are my kindred spirit quietly lived in this space. Semi-transparent curtains drifted softly, and images emerged from behind fabric—making me slow down, as if walking through someone’s family memories.
Photos, videos, and sound fragments wove together overlapping identities of mother, daughter, and Black female poet.

What stayed with me the most was the lighting—so beautifully handled. Some artworks were rimmed with a warm glow, like the sun casting slanted rays onto old curtains at dusk. It didn’t just illuminate, it narrated. Sometimes it felt like a secret being gently lit, sometimes like longing softly crying in the corner.

There was also a “circular reading room” in the space—books, headphones, stools, a projection—arranged like a soft corner of a home. I sat there reading Sulter’s family photo albums and poetry, and suddenly I understood: an exhibition doesn’t always have to display—it can accompany.

That night I opened Nicolas Bourriaud’s Relational Aesthetics, where he describes exhibitions as spaces of encounter. I felt so much resonance. And in Hawkins’ writing on the AIDS Memorial Quilt, I saw curating not only as a practice of structure, but as an act of social empathy.

I began to reimagine my own project Fluid Curating—could I also create a “non-exhibition corner”? A place where visitors stop reading labels, and instead pause to listen, to smell, to look at an old photo—and find their own relationship to the work?

🎬 Third Stop: GoMA

Our last stop was GoMA, where we saw John Akomfrah’s Mimesis: African Soldier. Three giant screens surrounded us, black and white war footage, slow-motion water washing over old photographs, and single-word subtitles like disenchantment and mourning, no narration, just music and fragments of visual poetry.

For a moment, I felt a bit lost. But I was completely drawn in. I remember one scene: soldiers dancing in uniform on muddy ground, music sorrowful and beautiful. I thought, maybe they were trying to reclaim their dignity as human beings in the midst of war.

I recalled Okwui Enwezor’s curatorial concept in Documenta 11, where he emphasized decentering the Western gaze and using exhibitions to address global trauma. Akomfrah’s work felt like a silent cry, a voice for lives swallowed by history. Other curatorial examples, like Red Shift or Treno, reminded me how art can be a stage for the silenced.

One line from the AIDS Memorial Quilt struck me: its center is wherever you find it. That made me realize—not every exhibition needs a clear narrative. Sometimes, scattered memories, flowing gazes, and overlapping emotions feel more true to how we actually experience life.

I started thinking seriously about non-linear structures in curating. Maybe what I need is not a “linear exhibition path,” but a kind of curatorial weaving. Not a script, but a net.

🎒 What I’ve Learned Isn’t Just Curating

As the day ended, I sat on the train back to Edinburgh with a phone full of photos and audio clips. I realized I wasn’t just viewing the exhibitions, they were seeing through me. They pierced through my obsession with “explaining everything,” and slowly opened up a new awareness: exhibitions can also be felt.

I don’t want to be a curator who only explains. I want to be someone who speaks through emotion: who creates a space where viewers can find their own moments of resonance between light and shadow, between sound and silence.

📚 Further Reading

Benedict, Burton. “The Anthropology of World’s Fairs: San Francisco’s Panama Pacific International Exposition of 1915.” Visual Anthropology, vol. 3, no. 1–2, 1990, pp. 17–34.

Bourriaud, Nicolas. Relational Aesthetics. Dijon: Les presses du réel, 2002.

Braverman, Harry. Labour and Monopoly Capital: The Degradation of Work in the Twentieth Century. New York: Monthly Review Press, 1974.

Enwezor, Okwui. “The Black Box.” In Documenta 11_Platform 5: Exhibition Catalogue, edited by Ute Meta Bauer, 43–55. Ostfildern-Ruit: Hatje Cantz, 2002.

Greenberg, Reesa, Bruce W. Ferguson, and Sandy Nairne, eds. Thinking about Exhibitions. London: Routledge, 1996.

Hawkins, Peter S. “Naming Names: The Art of Memory and the NAMES Project AIDS Quilt.” Critical Inquiry 19, no. 4 (1993): 752–779.

MacKenzie, John M. Propaganda and Empire: The Manipulation of British Public Opinion, 1880–1960. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1984.

Wilson, Fred. “Mining the Museum.” In Fred Wilson: A Critical Reader, edited by Doro Globus, 38–49. London: Ridinghouse, 2011.

Mar 11, 2025

W2-Initial Thoughts on My Curatorial Project

By Hanyun Xue

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! 💬)

Jan 27, 2025

Tag: Relational Aesthetics

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

Curatorial Narrative: From Top-down Authority to Distributed Dialogue

Curatorial Questions Driving the Exhibition

**What Fluid Curating Means in Practice**

Case Studies: Inspirations That Changed My Curatorial Lens