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Yvonne Borrmann
For a long time, Yvonne Borrmann moved back and forth between Argentina and Germany. She has been living in Berlin with her family for the past seven years now. The TV journalist is as dedicated to art as she is to theater, which is why she’s involved with two institutions she particularly values: the Schaubühne and the Deutsche Guggenheim.
As a journalist, you’re often involved with art.
Yvonne Borrmann: I work as a journalist for TV. Because I grew up bilingual and traveled back and forth between South America and Germany, I had this complex that I didn’t write well enough in German, which was why I went into television instead of print. We’ve been living in Berlin for seven years now, and I make documentaries here on a freelance basis. My last project was about artists in Berlin. Recently, to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I completed a film about young artists for the German Information Center—not just painters and sculptors, but also theater people and musicians who grew up in a reunified Berlin. But I’m not working very much at the moment, as I’m expecting my third child.
So besides art, you also love theater.
YB: Yes, I also have an honorary position on the board of the Friends of the Schaubühne Association. The committee wanted to include more young people and began recruiting new members. My aunt Ruth Walz worked at the Schaubühne for years as a theater photographer, which was why I saw the plays with Bruno Ganz. That was my own personal tie to Berlin and to this particular theater. When I was a kid, I always went to the Schaubühne when Peter Stein’s legendary production of Three Sisters played. Initially, I wasn’t so sure about a Schaubühne run by Thomas Ostermeier. But then I thought about how important it is to get young people interested in contemporary theater. It’s an intellectual challenge, just like contemporary art. Especially in the Internet era, when all anyone seems interested in is how many Facebook friends they have. When people hardly have the patience to read a whole book anymore, it’s all the more important to be able to concentrate on a single thing. This is exactly what a play at the Schaubühne reinforces—the ability to concentrate on something for two or three hours. I too find it unbearable sometimes to sit in a chair for that length of time [laughs]. But a play has to touch you personally, of course; this is my expectation for any form of theater—or fine arts. It has to knock your socks off.
How did you first become interested in art?
YB: I’ve always been interested in art. Maybe it was also a result of moving around so much—because it gave me a home anywhere I went. The first thing my mother did in each new city we moved to was to take us to the museums. But I was also introduced to art through my friends, some of whom are artists themselves. My best friend, who moves back and forth between Berlin and San Francisco and knows a lot about art, took me along to Art Basel years ago. A fundamental interest has always been there. And particularly because my husband has a profession very different from mine—he heads a venture capital company—it’s something that’s very nice for couples to do: to go on studio visits, meet artists, travel to fairs, or have discussions with like-minded people. To put it in a very banal way, these are things that are nicer when you do them together. It’s more fun to talk about things like this at the end of the day than about the daily routine, children, the job. There has to be something that transcends all this.
You yourself collect art. What kinds of work interest you the most?
YB: I wouldn’t call it collecting. Actually, I hate it when I go to these gallery weekends and people ask me if I’m an artist or a collector. I’m neither of the two. We don’t collect, we just buy on occasion, on gut instinct. The focus is definitely on conceptual works and on photography. And then, of course, a personal contact to an artist also plays a big role here—you value their working method or approach, you love the work, and then, at some point, you buy something. Of all the works we have, we know many of the artists personally. At any rate, it’s an important form of contact. But I don’t really see myself as a collector.
The economy is in crisis right now, which means that the art world is too, of course. American museums dependent on private sponsors are running out of cash. People speculate that art has to become deeper again, that it has to move away from the hedonist social event and back to content. Do you believe that attitudes towards art are currently changing?
YB: Much has changed in the art world over the past several years, that’s for sure. And a lot of people have jumped onto the bandwagon. But what I find awful are all these art groupies. Art has taken on a completely different status—and now the general public is interested in it as well, which is good in itself. Even the economic crisis won’t change much in that respect. To be a bit mean, you could say that art is today what tennis or golf were in the eighties—something you simply have to be part of. But at the same time, it’s great when people get excited about it. The hedonist aspects will change—if for no other reason than the fact that the money just isn’t there anymore. There won’t be the same kind of partying going on: that was a dance on the volcano. Many people say that the quality will improve; this is something I’ve observed as well. On the other hand, I’d never say that it’s great the crisis is here and that everything will become so much better now. Good art has been made, even in the recent past—but that is something each person must decide for herself.
But you do believe that the interest in art will remain.
YB: Absolutely. Art has become so important over the past twenty or thirty years. I think what will remain are the huge numbers of visitors to the museums, the fact that private collections have opened up to the public, that people travel to Christian Boros’ bunker to see his art. This widespread interest, particularly in contemporary art, won’t diminish. The whole art field has changed far too much for that: the collections have taken on the character of museums, and conversely the museums have taken on the character of collections—for instance in Berlin or Munich, as can be seen with the Museum Brandhorst. A lot has been set in motion through private collections being made public. This forces the museums to think over their role, to redefine themselves or to forge connections, depending on the position they want to take.
What do you think is the role of the Deutsche Guggenheim on the Berlin museum scene?
YB: Because the Deutsche Guggenheim is so different from the Guggenheim in New York, it seems like an in-between thing to me. And it’s something we really need here in Berlin—which is why I’m a member of the Deutsche Guggenheim Club. It puts on small, exquisite exhibitions. The fact that the space is so tiny compared with New York lends a very special, intimate atmosphere to the exhibitions there. At the same time, the Deutsche Guggenheim has a strong relationship with its public—for instance through its lectures or the children’s program. My oldest daughter is five now, and we’re just starting to take her to the children’s events. I like this American system, with its social commitment to children. That was missing here, and that’s one reason why the Deutsche Guggenheim plays such an important role in this city.
Which exhibitions did you like the best?
YB: The first thing that comes to mind is The Vanity of Allegory, the group exhibition curated by Douglas Gordon. It was done very well, very intelligently. I knew his work previously, but for me the way Gordon conceived the show opened up an entirely new approach to him as an artist. And then, apropos theater, William Kentridge’s Black Box/ Chambre Noire, of course. And Anish Kapoor’s Memory—also because we visited his London studio with the Club. It’s always impressive to experience an artist when he or she talks about their work, which Kapoor did in such a modest and wonderful way. When you see the exhibition afterwards, you have a completely different relationship to it. It’s always so wonderful, and that’s why I like almost every exhibition at the Deutsche Guggenheim—how this space can change, and how intelligently the exhibition program is implemented.
What’s the most important thing to you about the Deutsche Guggenheim Club, besides the encounters with the artists?
YB: Unfortunately, we often don’t have the time to take part in the trips that much anymore. But we visited the last Venice Biennale with the Club. This was particularly great because it was such a small circle. That’s one thing I find really important: meet the member. It’s good to get to know other people, to exchange views. Actually, I’m a part of it because it’s also a way to support the institution, whether it’s the Schaubühne or the Deutsche Guggenheim. Not merely because one wants to profit from it personally by getting to know the artists. Instead, the motivation can be to say: I like what they do, and I’d like to support it.
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