We spoke with art collector Dr. Christine Würfel-Stauss about her personal connection to art, what drives her to collect, and which encounters with artworks have left a lasting impression. She shares her perspective on how the art world is evolving — and the questions and challenges she considers most pressing for cultural institutions today.
What inspires you to collect art? How do artworks shape your daily life and social interactions? And what was the first piece you ever acquired?
Engaging with art can open the door to a fantastical world where, if you truly immerse yourself, you may experience deeply moving moments. At the same time, art offers a focused lens through which to view human interaction and the cultural and political realities we live in. It creates a space for pause and reflection amidst the whirlwind of everyday life. And that, beyond any market value, is what makes a work of art truly precious.
A vibrant scene of artistic creation — beyond purely commercial commissions — can only thrive if there is some form of monetization at the end of the creative process. The acquisition of artworks by private or institutional collectors plays a vital role in this ecosystem. At the same time, collectors take on a key curatorial role: the decision to purchase a work is a crucial link in the chain of what is deemed culturally relevant and remains visible to the public.
The first piece I ever acquired was a work by the late artist Turi Simeti: a white canvas on which only the shadows cast by geometric forms mounted on the back of the work are visible. Rooted in the Zero movement of the 1960s, this piece engages with light and perspective — the sculptural elements shift in appearance depending on the lighting and the viewer’s position. It’s a dynamic, ever-changing interplay that creates a sense of contemplative clarity and a calming visual stillness.
I grew up near the Documenta in northern Hesse, and my first encounters with art there had a profound impact on me. It opened the door to a completely new and fascinating world where anything seemed possible — especially at a time when personal experience wasn’t yet shaped by the visual overload we live with today.
I remember seeing, for the first time, a large-scale installation that you could physically enter: an upside-down classroom mounted on the ceiling by artist Rebecca Horn. Ink dripped from the benches, along metal wires, across the room, and then out through the windows of the building. The intensity of that unexpected experience — how powerful and affecting art could be — has stayed with me ever since.
Credit: Vitali Gelwich
The art market is so thematically and geographically diverse that it’s nearly impossible for private collectors to maintain a truly comprehensive and well-informed overview of global developments — no matter how engaged or passionate they may be. That’s why exhibitions at institutions and, of course, galleries are essential to my discovery of works and artists. These exhibitions offer valuable insights into an artist’s practice and context.
I always try to conduct thorough research, to place the works in a broader context, and ideally, to engage in direct dialogue with the artist. I don’t restrict my focus to specific themes or look only for artists who meet certain personal criteria. I deliberately avoid narrowing my perspective in that way, nor do I aim to build a collection that is thematically exhaustive in any one area. In my view, that role is best fulfilled by institutional collections, which have an educational, archival, and preservation mission.
Art fairs act as a fine seismograph of the art market — a unique mix of public stage, global networking, and commercial drive. At their core, they’re about visibility and the perception of art.
The fair format allows visitors to gain a broad overview of the art world in a condensed timeframe. The physical and temporal proximity of works from a wide range of galleries and regions offers valuable insight into current themes and modes of presentation. Nowhere else can you encounter so many different artistic positions at once — and often without the curatorial filter of a specific exhibition theme.
A well-curated art fair becomes a cultural entity in its own right, especially when it’s accompanied by a strong supporting program of performances, talks, and panel discussions. In this way, fairs can open up new perspectives for visitors — not only on the social and political relevance of art, but also on its intersections with technology, geopolitics, and other pressing contemporary issues.
I encounter fascinating new works almost every day. What I find especially compelling right now are artworks that engage with today’s global political, social, and ecological challenges. Art reflects this moment of upheaval and uncertainty — and it can offer a space for reflection, for personal processing, and sometimes even for hope.
I’m also deeply intrigued by the rapid pace of technological change. Artificial intelligence, new forms of robotics, and virtual realities are giving rise to entirely new artistic expressions. These works often bring to light things we might not dare to imagine fully — and they raise important, thought-provoking questions.
Lately, I’ve been particularly drawn to large-scale works that incorporate multiple media and allow you to step out of the role of passive observer and become the protagonist of a new artistic universe.
One of the most pressing challenges is the significant financial cutbacks in the cultural sector, which are having far-reaching effects on museums and cultural institutions — especially in Berlin. A telling example is the recent discontinuation of Museum Sunday, which had allowed the public to visit many museums free of charge on a regular basis. This represents a serious threat to cultural participation and education, to cultural diversity, and ultimately, to the social cohesion of the city.
Looking ahead, it will be essential to establish a sustainable support system in which public funding and private engagement are meaningfully intertwined. Only then can museums fully live up to their mission of education, mediation, and preservation — and continue to maintain their international relevance.
There are many reasons to engage with art, and they can be deeply personal and shaped by the moment. But three come to mind right away.
First, art is always an invitation — an invitation from the artist to step into their world, their thoughts, their circumstances, and, in the case of historical works, their time. A work of art can open a window into another person’s experience in a way that goes far beyond surface impressions or self-presentation. That can be a deeply moving and enriching experience.
Second, art offers a unique kind of dialogue with the artist — one that happens outside the usual channels of communication that dominate our daily lives. It’s a universal language, not dependent on any one culture, currency, or spoken word, and yet it can be understood and felt by everyone.
And finally, in a world where so much of our professional and personal communication takes place virtually, art brings people together in real, physical space. We visit museums, exhibitions, events — we talk about what we’ve seen and experience it collectively. Art isn’t a protected profession; anyone can create it. It’s an open form of expression, not tied to a specific educational background. That openness makes it accessible to all — and that, in itself, is incredibly valuable.