
Wish Tree for Berlin, 1996/2025
YOKO ONO: MUSIC OF THE MIND installation view at GROPIUS BAU, 2025
Photography by LUCA GIRARDINI (GROPIUS BAU)


Photography by LUCA GIRARDINI (Courtesy of GROPIUS BAU)
Questions. Provocations. Possibilities. For curator Patrizia Dander, these elements converge to dismantle outdated museum norms and create radical art experiences – like she did with the bold spirit of YOKO ONO: MUSIC OF THE MIND exhibition, which opened on April 10, 2025, at Gropius Bau. Here, over 200 works spanning seven decades are brought together, inviting visitors to discover, re-experience, and, in some cases, even complete the works themselves. In this conversation, Dander reveals how her vision and curatorial approach have been transforming institutions in Düsseldorf and Munich, and now Berlin, challenging us all to rethink what a museum can – and should – be.
hube: Throughout your career – from co-running the white light exhibition space in Düsseldorf to curating at Haus der Kunst and Museum Brandhorst in Munich – what common thread connects these diverse projects, and how have they shaped your current work?
Patrizia Dander: I’d say the common thread is curiosity. I didn’t start out in the arts – my background is in psychology. But contemporary art pulled me in because it felt like a space where so many aspects of life are negotiated. Art can be weird, beautiful, even disorienting – and that’s what I love about it. I’ve always believed that no one should need a specific background to engage with art. Whether you come from psychology, architecture, or something completely different, there should always be an open door. That’s something I think about a lot when I curate – how to create space for different ways of engaging with art.
h: With your background in psychology, how do insights into human behavior and perception inform the design of immersive exhibition experiences that resonate with a wide audience?
PD: Not in a direct, ‘here’s my psychology toolkit’ kind of way. I finished that degree back in 2002, and I’ve worked in the arts for far longer than I ever did in psychology. But what’s stayed with me is a deep interest in people – especially artists. Through their work, artists offer us new ways of seeing the world – and I love that. So maybe that’s the connection: a fascination with how people think, feel, and make sense of things.
h: Your recent co-curation of YOKO ONO: MUSIC OF THE MIND brings together over 200 works spanning seven decades. How has working with Ono’s radically participatory art influenced your overall curatorial vision?
PD: I first encountered Yoko Ono’s work in the early 2000s at a small exhibition at nGbK in Berlin, and I was completely taken by its simplicity and depth. There’s a real generosity in her work – an open invitation to take part in it, rather than just observe. That always resonated with me. So when the opportunity came to work on this exhibition, it felt like many long-standing thoughts I have had about participation, accessibility, and art finally came together.
h: Yoko Ono’s art invites direct audience participation. What were some of the most unexpected challenges you encountered when adapting these interactive elements for a major institution?
PD: It’s certainly not like curating a conventional painting exhibition. Participatory works require a different kind of caretaking – you have to make space for change. One piece we’re showing, Add Colour (Refugee Boat), has its roots in Ono’s early conceptual paintings. In 2016, for an exhibition in Greece, she developed its current form in response to reports of hundreds of thousands of displaced people arriving in Europe. It features a white boat in an all-white space. Visitors are invited to write messages on the walls and on the boat itself – the work is in constant transformation. That’s what makes Yoko Ono’s art so powerful: you can never predict what it will become.
h: Having worked in cities like Düsseldorf, Munich, and now Berlin at Gropius Bau, how do these distinct cultural environments influence your curatorial strategies and audience engagement?
PD: The history and character of a city – and of each institution – shape the way I think about programming. I try to make exhibitions that are anchored in both the DNA of the institution and its local context. At Haus der Kunst, for instance, it was essential to address the museum’s history during National Socialism and find ways to engage with that legacy – like Anri Sala’s installation The Present Moment, which brought a composition by Arnold Schönberg, one of the composers ostracised by the Nazis, into dialogue with the space. Düsseldorf has a remarkable legacy of conceptual art and Fluxus, which made it an ideal setting for Yoko Ono’s work. That same resonance exists in Berlin, with its own Fluxus history. The next exhibition I’m preparing for Gropius Bau looks at Kreuzberg and its historical influx of migrant communities. Again, it’s deeply rooted in place while speaking to broader societal changes. I want my work to resonate with its surroundings – even if that happens in different ways each time.
h: Is there an exhibition space you haven’t worked in yet but would love to curate in?
PD: Oh, absolutely – the Villa at the Serralves Museum. Their main building, designed by Álvaro Siza, is a stunning example of modernist exhibition architecture. And right beside it stands this beautiful Art Deco villa, full of history and atmosphere. Both spaces, with their layered sense of time, would be extraordinary to work in.
h: Collaboration is at the heart of many of your projects. What qualities do you seek in curatorial partners and artists, and how have these collaborations enriched your exhibitions?
PD: There’s no such thing as a one-woman show in curating. Even with a strong vision, a curator’s work is always shaped by those around them – colleagues, collaborators, artists, institutions, and, of course, audiences. With MUSIC OF THE MIND, that network expanded even further. We’re fortunate to collaborate with Neue Nationalgalerie and Neuer Berliner Kunstverein, which allowed us to present Yoko Ono’s work across the city. I love that – sharing the generosity of an artist’s practice and celebrating its full scope. Collaboration creates a lateral flow of knowledge and ideas, often revealing unexpected overlaps between projects. It makes exhibitions more dynamic, more relevant.
h: As technology reshapes how we interact with art, how do you envision the role of the museum visitor evolving, and what innovative forms of engagement are you excited to explore?
PD: This is something I explored in Future Bodies from a Recent Past: Sculpture, Technology and the Body since the 1950s at Museum Brandhorst. We looked at how technology has shaped sculpture and influenced how we understand the body since the 1950s. And yet, no matter how much technology surrounds us, we remain physical beings. Even with tools like Virtual Reality or AI, I believe people still long for in-person experiences. It’s a bit like cinema – you can stream a film, but sitting in a theater, watching it with others, is something else entirely. Museums offer that kind of shared space. Exhibitions like Yoko Ono’s with its focus on participation, tap into this enduring sensory need even more, even as new modes of engagement continue to develop.
h: Looking back over your diverse career, can you share a particularly challenging yet rewarding turning point that has influenced your approach to curating today?
PD: I wouldn’t be who I am without the path I chose and the people I met along the way. Working with fantastic artists, colleagues, and directors has been fundamental. My first boss, Rita Kersting, remains an absolute reference – her deep commitment to artists left a lasting impression. A key turning point was my time at Museum Brandhorst in Munich. When I joined, many visitors still saw it as a private museum, though it’s a state-funded public institution. Together with the director Achim Hochdörfer, we set out to shift that perception – to open up the museum in terms of both programming and accessibility. That transition was incredibly formative. It’s also part of what brought me to Gropius Bau, where a recent change in leadership under Jenny Schlenzka is once again opening up space to rethink how institutions operate.
h: Beyond high-profile projects like the Yoko Ono exhibition, are there emerging themes or artists you’re eager to explore in your future projects? What new directions do you foresee for your curatorial work?
PD: Some questions remain as vital as ever – especially around artists who are still not being seen or heard enough. Right now, together with art historian and curator Gürsoy Doğtaş, who has done extensive research on the legacy of migrant artists in the German-speaking world, we’re working on a project focused on Kreuzberg, the district where Gropius Bau is located. It’s one of the most culturally diverse areas in Berlin, and its transformation since the 1950s – shaped in large part by its migrant communities – reflects broader societal shifts in postwar Germany. So many artists who engaged with these themes have rarely been shown. I hope this exhibition will resonate with visitors as much as it inspires us to develop it.

Chair Piece, 1962
Photography by YASUHIRO YOSHIOKA
Courtesy of YOKO ONO

Lighting Piece, 1962
Photography by YASUHIRO YOSHIOKA
Courtesy of YOKO ONO

Wrapping Piece, 1961 (performed by Yoko Ono 26 September 1967)
Photography by SHERIDON DAVIES
Courtesy of YOKO ONO

The Blue Room Event, 1966, installation view, YOKO ONO: MUSIC OF THE MIND, GROPIUS BAU, 2025
Photography by LUCA GIRARDINI (GROPIUS BAU), artwork courtesy of YOKO ONO