Matchbox Museum

The idea for the Nanomuseum originated like many of my exhibitions and projects do: from conversations with fellow artists. In the case of this portable object, it was a dialogue with the late German artist Hans-Peter Feldmann, who was known for his groundbreaking exhibitions as well as publications that date back to the 1960s. Among Feldmann’s many artistic endeavors was a shop that stocked various eclectic items. During a visit there in the 1990s, I purchased a small frame measuring two inches long and three inches wide. It would go on to become the ready-made architecture of the Nanomuseum.

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Around the same time, I was immersed in my “do it” project, which began in 1993 and has since taken place in 169 cities. In practice, the “do it” project can be instructions, recipes, D.I.Y. endeavors; it’s gone beyond boundaries. Yoko Ono, who I met in the early ’90s, contributed her Wish Tree, an extraordinary piece that involves making a wish and then inviting your friends to do the same. You keep wishing until the branches of the tree are covered with wishes, and then you can explore the tree.

We spoke about the Wish Tree as an instruction piece, back then, so everybody could make their own. I then showed Yoko the frame of the Nanomuseum. She’d been making these amazing, small drawings of dots, where the dots accumulate into a mass. And out of the mass, figures emerge, like a meditation exercise. Out of this very, very simple methodology, complexity grows. Life grows out of these dots, and everything is connected. Yoko developed a dot drawing especially for the Nanomuseum—usually her drawings are diptychs, but she wanted one side of the frame to be empty.

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From the start, my idea for the Nanomuseum has been to host easily transportable exhibitions. It’s a similar format to Robert Filliou’s Museum Chapeau or, more recently, Dayanita Singh’s portable Museum Bhavan. As a completely open museum, there are no restrictions on holding regular exhibitions; hence, there might be periods without shows followed by days with multiple exhibitions. This flexibility views time as freedom rather than constraint. The space does not need to be filled, but the small frame can be easily populated whenever desired or necessary.

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Once the Nanomuseum was exhibited within Sir John Soane’s Museum, and Cerith Wyn Evans took Polaroids of it within the museum, and then photographed that image, repeating the process like an infinity mirror. It was a very memorable piece. Then there was a show by Chris Marker, whose homage to the composer Alfred Schnittke brought a sound dimension to the Nanomuseum. Gabriel Orozco developed a series of computer drawings. Nancy Spero developed a collage museum. Jonas Mekas, a photographic diptych. And Leon Golub: a Nanomanifesto. Hans-Peter Feldmann showed random pictures so that the museum was never the same on any given day.

I always thought it could be fascinating to go much, much smaller, to actually work with nanotechnology and make it the smallest museum in the world. To go from centimeters or millimeters to nanoscale. Another unrealized dimension of the Nanomuseum is the idea that it could somehow be multiplied, so that everyone could have their own. It could be a sort of D.I.Y. project, so people could do their own shows, invite their friends, invite different artists, a bit like “do it.”

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The purpose lies not in the frame itself as an object, but rather in the exchanges it inspires The Nanomuseum serves as a catalyst for conversation—a mobile catalyst at that. Wherever it travels, it not only documents its experiences but also sparks diverse dialogues. Whether it’s done by myself or others (since the museum is portable): Sharing it with friends, acquaintances, or even strangers often elicits immediate feedback and serves as a starting point for new ideas and references to form.