The Museum of Broken Relationships, an exhibition that originated in Croatia, is a collection of objects donated by people from around the world, each object telling a story of a past relationship. The objects, which include a wedding dress, a crumbling garden gnome and a cast from a broken leg, are displayed alongside texts detailing the tales of passion, romance and heartbreak they symbolise. New items, donated by people living and working in Covent Garden, will be added to collection for the London show, which also takes place at 38 Earlham Street, WC2H 9LH and in store windows in the Seven Dials area. In addition, there are commissioned works made in response to the exhibition by artists, and a series of associated events.
What a brilliant idea for a museum! We’ve all been through it, and we’ve all got something we could give to the exhibition. So it’s nice to see what other people around the world have given, plus the stories are interesting, sometimes funny and more often than not, heart-breaking.
Below is a selection from the museum with stories of the past relationships. My favourite has got to be the phone, what a good idea to give your phone to your ex so they can’t call you!
An Ex Axe
1995
Berlin, Germany
She was the first woman that I let move in with me. All my friends thought I needed to learn to let people in more. A few months after she moved in, I was offered to travel to the US. She could not come along. At the airport we said goodbye in tears, and she was assuring me she could not survive three weeks without me. I returned after three weeks, and she said: “I fell in love with someone else. I have known her for just 4 days, but I know that she can give me everything that you cannot.”
I was banal and asked about her plans regarding our life together. The next day she still had no answer, so I kicked her out. She immediately went on holiday with her new girlfriend while her furniture stayed with me. Not knowing what to do with my anger, I finally bought this axe at Karstadt to blow off steam and to give her at least a small feeling of loss – which she obviously did not have after our break-up.
In the 14 days of her holiday, every day I axed one piece of her furniture. I kept the remains there, as an expression of my inner condition. The more her room filled with chopped furniture acquiring the look of my soul, the better I felt. Two weeks after she left, she came back for the furniture. It was neatly arranged into small heaps and fragments of wood. She took that trash and left my apartment for good. The axe was promoted to a therapy instrument.
A Cell Phone
July 12, 2003 – April 14, 2004
Zagreb, Croatia
It was 300 days too long. He gave me his cell phone so I couldn’t call him any more.
“I love you” Teddy bear
2002
Zagreb, Croatia
„I love you“ – WHAT A LIE! LIES, DAMN LIES! Yes, it’s like that when you are young, naïve and in love. And you don’t realize your boyfriend started dating you just because he wanted to take you to bed! I got this teddy bear for Valentine’s. He survived on top of my closet in a plastic bag, because it wasn’t him who hurt me, but the idiot who left him behind.
A Glass Horse
1982-1997
Maribor, Slovenia
One day I was tidying up the bedroom. I opened the closet and found a small cash-box. I opened it. At the bottom of it I saw my wedding ring, and next to it a little glass horse. I took it in my hand. It was made in a workshop on the island of Murano, Venice.
Old memories – If I remember correctly, my husband and I took a trip to Venice. It was a splendid day, the sun was shining. I was young, I was in love. I had wonderful dreams about our future. Venice is a city of people in love. We walked slowly along the streets, across the squares and stone bridges. The streets were full of people, full of tourists. Young people were walking hand in hand. Everyone seemed happy. We soon arrived at the Canal Grande, a long narrow street full of beautiful palaces. The facades were bathing in the sun. We stopped at the place called Café Gondoliere and went in. Inside there was a group of tourists, older men reading newspapers, and smartly-dressed women eating cakes. We sat down to enjoy the scene. After some time I went to the women’s washroom and when I came back, my husband was paying the bill. We made a quick decision. We went to visit the glass-works of Murano.
I was admiring an artist who was making beautiful sculptures in glass. In front of us he was sculpting a beautiful horse. I said: Oh, I would be very happy if I had it. Then we returned to the city. It was a long walk back to our hotel. We didn’t talk a lot, but it was a peaceful time which both of us enjoyed. I was very happy. Just before we reached the hotel my husband kissed me on the cheek and gave me a small package. He said: Darling, I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. You are my life. I answered: Me too, dear. When we entered the room, I opened my gift and saw the little glass horse.
20 years later, I am divorced. His love disappeared like the wind. I put the glass horse into the box beside the wedding ring and shut it. I say to myself: Don’t cry! Tomorrow is a new day.
A “MIRA FURLAN” Bowl
Almost 3 years, January 2003 – September 2005
Ljubljana, Slovenia
You wanted me to bake bread. Because a woman kneading dough is so erotic, isn’t she? You probably thought I’d work up such a sweat that it would drip from my breasts directly into the bowl. One summer day I dressed up only in an apron, just for you and the bowl. In three years I made bread five times in this bowl. It never was any good, always hard as a rock. I don’t know why. Maybe it is because the bowl is too small for kneading, or because I sometimes forgot to put in the yeast. Do you put an egg in bread? You were always eyeing me suspiciously when I was “getting to work”. You wanted me to be like Mira Furlan in the film “Lepota poroka”. But I’m not Mira Furlan. Now I know that the bread was bad because I was afraid that you would – like it happened in the film – smash it on my head with a hammer, if I happened to look at another boy for a tad too long. After that I only ate salad from the bowl for a while. I lost 21 kilograms. And the Furlan woman is not such a babe anymore.
Underpants
2003 – 2005
Zagreb, Croatia
A size too small…but I didn’t mind at all.
A Wedding Dress
1994 – 1997
Berlin, Germany
We married in Greece and in Japan when we were just over 20. I wore this dress on August 20, 1994 in Kavala, Greece. We had 800 guests. A Greek magazine reported on the wedding of 3 countries. One radio station even had a special coverage.
Against our will, we became rather known there, which was followed by many nosy questions from different people pointing their fingers at us.
Our goal was a happy home with many children.
But Mother Nature did not deliver – and couldn’t children wait until the end of our studies?
It was very important to him, a very happy man from the beginning, to be a young father. Finally, nothing was missing…
Slowly, the page turned. Impatience tipped the scales and brought a dark gray sky over our initial happiness, built a thick white wall between our fields of vision that stifled each feeling in its embryo.
On the other hand, some things became clear on his side that moved me to separate and after a while to return to Germany, but not to my home town, Stuttgart. Berlin won me over and I am finding more and more in this town and in the people that love me.
I started to feel at home here and even have a family. It is the best moment- to be an independent grown up offering a safe thread of life to a small being, and thus not to be alone.
I get very bored of lookbooks, it’s very rare that I find a lookbook that actually inspires me and makes me want to buy the clothes. One think I never get bored of however, are comics (yes, I know I’m a geek! I own it!). So the lookbook for Nike’s Autumn 2011 collection really took my breath away. The lookbook is a collaboration between Nike and two female comic book artists; Jan Duursema & Amanda Connor entitled “Make Yourself a Superhero.” Which is meant to take the focus off of the celebrity athlete and put it on the every day woman.
