Curating means: to care

What happens when nine curators from the independent music scene sit down at one table?
When conversations unfold — about art, work, politics.
About the small things that are sometimes bigger than the big ones?

You meet people who know that closeness, warmth, and intimacy can give an event more fire and energy than exploding audience numbers —
especially when paired with continuity and a clear inner stance.
A stance rooted not in figures, but in the artistic and human richness of the scene,
and in the uniqueness of each territory in Switzerland.

An exchange about care.
Conviction.
And the quiet radicalism of concerts in miniature format.
A meeting that inspires, shakes things up —
and allows new ideas to grow.

The word curate comes from the Latin curare.
It means: to care, to tend.
But also: to treat. To heal.

I curate in Locarno. Jonas Kocher curates in Biel.
Sometimes we call each other. And we say things like:
”I’m just writing an application for…”
”It’s important to me that…”
”We’ve got something exciting developing here…”
Or also:
”That didn’t work.”
”It’s a bit much right now.”
”That was great.”

We talk about our work. Sometimes just to check in.
And afterwards, writing applications somehow feels easier.
Sometimes I even write a new concept right away.
New ideas appear.
That’s why I like calling Jonas.

Recently, he said:
“Let’s talk with some other curators, too.”

And so now, on a Monday afternoon, nine of us are sitting around a table in Biel.
It’s warm. Very warm.
We’re drinking coffee.

Curators in the independent scene are usually musicians.
And since curating doesn’t pay more than making music,
most also have a day job.
And because they know things have to be done,
many are also politically active — unpaid.
And those with families are also drivers, housekeepers, tutors, or whatever else is needed.
Hyperactive multitaskers of the highest order.

And yet — or maybe because of all this —
they haven’t forgotten
that between every note and every action sits a great silence.
One that sets everything in motion.

That’s why they listen well. Very well.
And when they speak, they have something to say.
Something of real value.

Now I almost find it hard to write about it.
My head is full. My heart too.
Full of impressions, full of admiration —
for the creativity, the love, and the care
with which everyone shapes their events.

And I — with my German roots — think:
It’s impressive how calmly things are done in Switzerland.
With continuity. With quality.
How resources are shared and distributed.
How deeply human and poetic the thinking and making of events can be.

On the train, I keep reflecting.
On what communication truly means: coming together.
Letting things bloom.
Why this kind of music is always political. Subversive.
Why concerts in miniature format
can be a form of revolution…

…and I miss my stop in Olten.
And ride all the way to Zurich.

I let the feeling settle in me:
that it is indeed possible to be with people
who think and talk about these things —
and act on them, each in their own way.

And so I miss the change in Arth-Goldau as well,
and continue my journey on the panoramic train.

Two hours of concentrated conversation
in the heat of summer.
A powerful dose.
My head and my heart are overflowing.

I arrive in Locarno two and a half hours late.

And yes:
I’ve written another new concept.

Present were:

Cyril Bondi, Mira Hirtel, Sara Käser, Christian Kobi, Jonas Kocher, Antoine Läng, Christian Müller, Natalie Peters, Marina Tantanozi.

Eine Initiative von https://bruit-asso.org/ und https://www.carovana091.ch/

Article in German and Italian under: https://de.carovana091.ch/post/kuratieren-heißt-sich-kümmern