Written by: Gea Vlahović Photos: Tom Wagner
Reiner Opoku is hands down one of the most esteemed curators and contemporary art dealers. His artistic career took off four decades ago when he decided to sell his bar in Cologne…
At the end of the 1970s, an art movement known as Junge Wilde spread all across Europe and the USA. As an expression of rebellion against the formal asceticism of minimal and conceptual art, it provided for a turn towards highly subjective, expressive painting.
The Junge Wilde (“Young Wild Ones”) painted with intense colours, rapid and broad brushstrokes, and their rise to fame is nowadays considered a watershed moment in the development of contemporary art. Their moniker did not have so much to do with the “wildness” of the art itself as to that of the artists, who sparked special interest of the then 22-year-old Reiner Opoku, the owner of a bar in Cologne, where some of them used to hang out.
The artists showed Opoku that living in art, for art and of art allows for a unique form of freedom. He realised he wanted to live that way as well, but also that he possessed something they did not: outstanding networking skills that could allow artists to present their work to the widest possible audience.
He made a decision: he sold his bar, and the rest is history, as they say. Nowadays, Reiner Opoku is a member of the global elite of art brokers, consultants and curators, whose portfolio boasts some of the most prominent figures in the world of contemporary art, such as Andy Warhol, Gerhard Richter, Yves Klein, Helmut Newton, Sigmar Polke and Josef Beuys.
His impressive resume includes the establishment of the first “department store” for 20th century art, the Kunsthaus in Cologne in the early 90th, participation in leading world art fairs such as Art Basel Miami Beach, 10 years of curating at the prestigious St. Moritz Art Masters at the elite Alpine winter resort, and among other things, a friendship with the recently deceased Croatian photographer and collector Čedo Komljenović, commonly known as Monty Shadow.
Opoku’s ties to Croatia do not stop there: about 15 years ago, he was one of the judges at the Rovinj Photodays festival, and as of recently he has a permanent address in Croatia – he and his family settled in Fažana, so now he divides his time between Fažana and Berlin, where he has an office from which he manages various global projects.
While in Fažana, Opoku curated an exhibition of the esteemed Belgian artist Arne Quinze, which opened in June 2023 at Stancija Meneghetti, as the first in a series of exhibitions in which the finest of art complements the union of nature, gastronomy, and luxury of this unique resort not far from the southwestern coast of Istria.
Therefore, we shall start this interview with a fundamental question for everyone who has found the meaning and purpose of their existence in art.
Every piece of art raises the question, “What is art?” Let’s start by defining what art means to you.
Art is an unspoken need of every human being, a need for survival in a space that defies rules. Since everyone is entitled to a different opinion on art, it resonates with each of us on a deeply personal level. That’s why it’s an extremely important part of our lives – were it not for art, this world be a very sad and plain place.
To be frank, I also believe that artists are nothing short of supreme humans, complex and intricate characters whose mission is to add value to the lives of others.
So, art exists to make the world a better place; by definition, it’s a form of idealism. Are you an idealist? Can curators even afford themselves to be idealistic?
Absolutely! I’ve been an idealist all my life; I’ve supported and helped out many artists before they were discovered, when they were just starting out– I believed in them when no one else did. So I’d definitely call myself an idealist.
Sometimes things work out for the best and other times not, but if you’re willing to take risks and go down a road less travelled, with no guarantee of success, then you’re an idealist.
Which qualities make a successful curator?
What matters most is letting the artist do their thing, the way they envisioned it. The role of the curator is not to dictate what the artist should do and how they should do it, despite the fact that some curators do just that. The curator’s job is that of a tuner: the artist themselves has no trouble figuring out what their work should look like and how they want to create and present it – all you have to do is give them some direction and make some tweaks.
The curator is just another tool in the service of creating a work of art. Every good curator abides by this principle.
You have no background in art education, yet you’ve become one of the most renowned figures in the art world. How did you come to be who you are today?
I’d more or less attribute it to happenstance. When I was 22 years old, I had a bar in Cologne that attracted various artists for some reason, and that’s how I met them. I didn’t plan for it to happen; I was just sort of pulled into their world; I felt that I could understand what these people were doing, which piqued my interest. And so I decided to sell the bar and start something new. One thing led to another, and I started working with some of the most important German artists of the period, who introduced me to the world of art, notwithstanding my lack of previous artistic education. I gained immense insider knowledge, which proved far more valuable than a degree in art history.
I worked as an assistant in art studios of Georg Dokoupil while also touring museums with him. I learned an awful lot from him at that time, even though I was still fairly young. So I’d say that I stumbled upon my path by chance.
Back in the 1980s, you were fascinated by the leading avant-garde artists of that time: Martin Kippenberger, Julian Schnabel… Is there a specific artistic period you’re particularly fond of?
I’ve recently been asked a similar question: if I could choose one painting from the entire history of art, which one would it be? I answered – “none; there are just too many good ones.” The same goes for artistic periods. I like Renaissance art, I like medieval art, I like impressionists. To be honest, I’m much more fascinated by the changes of art throughout history.
I’ve witnessed huge changes in the world of art since the beginning of my artistic journey. I was introduced to this world in the early 1980s, when the conceptual art of the 1970s was all the rage, and then the “Young Wild Ones” took it by storm. They put the art of painting back on the world map in a way that was very aggressive, very loud, and very expressive. Along came the transavantgarde from Italy, Neo Geo and other artistic interventions. When it comes to the world of art, change is the only constant. Changes occur all the time as artists are constantly on the lookout for new themes. And this is the one thing that will never change.
If we consider the process of reshaping the world as political, to what extent, if at all, must art be political?
Art has always been political, but it doesn’t mean that it necessarily has to be. The history of art is full of politically engaged artists who mediated important changes – musicians, writers, painters, etc. – who made significant political contributions with their works. Just think of the graffiti artist Shepard Fairey, who tremendously helped the Obama campaign.
Art has this power to drive change through its involvement in political discourse.
How do you perceive works of art? What qualities do you look for in an artist, and in art itself?
What matters most is identifying the artist’s uniqueness, the very thing that sets them apart and makes them stand out. That’s challenging because every artist is concerned with being unique by default, and every single one of them wants to create something new – they are all in search of their own place in the history of art.
That’s why I consider it crucial to get to know the artist, their personality, since only then I can determine whether their work is a product of authenticity and not, say, pretence. The key criterion for fully understanding someone’s work, recognising how it differs from the work of all other artists, and determining the sincerity and authenticity of the artist’s message is a personal approach.
Which criteria do you use to identify promising artists? How do you balance the need to represent established, well-known artists with discovering and promoting fresh talent?
In this day and age, one can gather a lot of initial information via the Internet. The next steps include reviewing portfolios, attending various exhibitions, and listening to what other artists, gallerists and curators have to say about a potential protégé. So that is definitely one criterion one must follow for it always yields the necessary information.
Would you say you also have a nose for art?
I wouldn’t say that; I have to admit that I do not follow my nose at all. I’m 62 years old; I grew up in the 1980s surrounded by artists who were young and wild back then, and are now 60 or 70 years old, just like me. That’s my origin story and all my future chapters are purely its extension. It’s a generation I know very well, and I can’t – I don’t even want to – keep up with every new fad. All I really desire is to work with people, which is precisely what I’ve been doing all along.
I might help out a younger artist from time to time, but basically I’m sticking to familiar ground.
What does your curation process look like, and how do you settle on the themes or narratives of an exhibition? What’s on your mind when you’re selecting works to ensure a meaningful, wholesome exhibition experience that appeals to all visitors?
I recently curated an exhibition in an abandoned Viennese villa from the early 20th century that belonged to a family of art collectors, which was very influential during the Belle Époque period. I was given carte blanche to pick artists, so I selected fifteen of them, mostly painters, class of 50s and 60s of the last century. I assigned each artist a room, and the works were selected on the basis of their mutual correspondence and communication. These were all pretty famous artists, and what we got was an eclectic collection of figurative and abstract works.
In this case, my goal was to create an experience as if those 15 artists were part of your personal collection, each of them having their own room in your house. So, that was the key criterion. The concept for the festival in St. Moritz, where we set up exhibitions all over the valley – in churches, chalets, schools, sports halls, along the shores of the lake –was completely different.
Thus, the curator’s selection always has to do with the space in which the exhibition is held and the environment in which it is located. If you’re in a regular museum, you focus on the artist’s oeuvre and their most representative pieces, and if you’re in a place like Stancija Meneghetti, the driving force behind the curation process is a fusion of nature and history – in this particular case, the history of the winery and its setting – that is, the hotel, and the desire to create an experience that appeals not only to people from the art milieu, but to the general public as well.
You see, when it comes to public spaces, it is paramount to initiate a dialogue between the observer and the observed. Some will like what they see while others won’t, but it’s crucial that the experience moves them all, that everybody there forms an opinion.
Art originates in a realm beyond tangible reality, yet it manifests itself in the physical world. To what extent do current geopolitical circumstances influence art? Do you fear for the future of the so-called highbrow art?
I do not fear for the future of art in the slightest. The truth is that contemporary art has become a matter of prestige, a sort of commodity, which means that it goes hand in hand with money. This doesn’t change even in the face of the current global context: global crises don’t affect the world of art. People may have become a little more prudent, but when it comes to the circles in which I run, the prospects of art haven’t changed much. Simply put, contemporary art is more a matter of money than it is about shifts in political attitudes. We just have to come to terms with that and accept that this is the way things are now.
This will probably change over time: the financial aspect will become way less important, but it still plays a significant role for the time being.
How to strike a balance between art and commerce without compromising the art? Some artists, such as Damien Hirst, sell their works for millions. Where is the breaking point of artistic intransigence and who determines it?
The commercial aspect of art has become ever more prominent in the last 20 years or so; nowadays, art equals value, one that is measured by auction house standards and the prices that works of art fetch on the market. In the 1990s, or even in the 2000s, the goal of every young artist was to become famous.
Young artists of today are much more down-to-earth, more aware of the world around them; they think about the environment, about all the problems that plague modern societies. They have respect for these matters; money is less important to them.
Damien Hirst has been an established artist for more than 30 years now, as has Jeff Koons and that entire generation. They are polar opposites to what we see in art today. Every new generation of artists has to make a difference; they can’t follow the beaten path. Young artists always have to think outside the box and come up with their own themes, and today these themes often revolve around topics such as gender issues, social affairs, ecology etc.
What about curators; what are the key challenges they face today?
I’d say the same goes for curators: new generations of curators are more concerned with the realities of the world, wars, and environmental issues. Many exhibitions you see today address these topics.
Could you share some memorable experiences or anecdotes from your career as a curator? Is there an exhibition or project that holds a special place in your heart?
I was particularly fond of a completely random collaboration between two established painters, Georg Dokoupil and Julian Schnabel. It was five years ago. Schnabel visited me in Berlin. He had a few ideas he wanted to pursue and needed a studio to work on them. It hit me that Dokoupil had a studio in Berlin and that the two of them were acquainted, so I hooked them up and they hit it off right away.
Schnabel was drawn to the paint drips on Dokoupil’s floor, and he suggested the two of them make something together. So they got to work, carved out Dokoupil’s floor, painted, and after four days they produced 15 enormous canvases, each measuring 3×5 meters, resulting in a duo exhibition that we set up.
That extraordinary dynamic between two established artists happens once in a blue moon; that momentum that arose from the collision of their artistic personalities was nothing short of incredible.
The curator aims to change the perception of art and reshape the world of art itself through their work. Does it go both ways? Has art, in turn, changed you?
Definitely! It gifted me with a sort of relaxed attitude towards life, the belief that it is indeed possible to have a different life than the one imposed on you by society.
What’s the most important thing you’ve learned from artists and about them?
I’ve learned something I came to live by: that being free to do what you want is the very meaning of life and the most valuable thing a person can have. Artists have that kind of freedom, they are free in their art, and it is this feeling of being untethered that has always appealed to me, which is why I wanted to be a part of that world, to work with them, to be free – doing something I truly enjoy. Of course, duties and deadlines are always present, but creation, the freedom to create… That, in my opinion, is a prerequisite for a fulfilling life.
You live in Fažana now; do you already feel like a local?
I currently split my time between Fažana and Berlin with my family, but I’d dare say that Fažana is our primary residence; this is where our child goes to kindergarten, and we’re here to stay.
How’s your Croatian coming along?
So far I know how to order food in a restaurant, but that’s about it. I still have a lot to learn…
You’ve mentioned the St. Moritz Art Masters festival, which you curated in Switzerland. Are you currently working on any similar projects?
In its time, Moritz Art Masters was regarded as an innovative platform that fostered collaboration between international brands and art. Brands such as Cartier, Mercedes, Bank Julius Baer supported us, both financially and otherwise. My friend and partner Monty Shadow served as the ambassador for the brands, while I took charge of the artistic aspect. This synergy was extremely fruitful.
I have worked on the Parley for the Oceans project for the last ten years. It’s an environmental organisation based in New York, founded by my close friend Cyrill Gutsch, his partner Lea Stepken and me, which collects plastic from the oceans and seas in order to process it and recirculate it back into production. Within the scope of this project, we cooperate with some big brands and institutions such as Adidas, American Express, World Bank, and United Nations.
Parley has several strands of action. The first one revolves around turning plastic into new materials that are later reused to produce something useful. Second, we aim to rid the shores of oceans, seas, and rivers of plastic. There is also a scientific strand, within which we support scientific research efforts in finding alternative materials to replace plastic. We also have an educational programme for teaching children and young people how to reduce plastic use. We have made it our mission to avoid the production of new plastic in every way we can.
And then there’s the artistic segment, which I run with my small Berlin team, where we partner with artists to organise exhibitions, workshops, art editions and sell works of art to raise funds for environmental projects.
Is the role of art galleries and museums in society changing?
Museums are still home to art; that much hasn’t changed. What has changed is that art is increasingly becoming a public good, a shared asset, and in this regard, museums must change their approach in order to attract new audiences. Galleries, on the other hand, represent the commercial side of the world of art. They must exist not only to provide a roof over the artist’s head, but also to allow them to monetise their art and continue to create new art.
Where is the world of art headed, and what kind of future awaits it?
Art is headed in the same direction as ever. It’s always been subject of questioning, but also ever present. It’s here, it will always remain here, and it will never cease to exist as a promise of the future. For that is the meaning of art – to bear within itself this promise of the future, something us humans can turn to.
Looking back, what are you most proud of?
My children.
If you were to leave this job one day, what would you do for a living?
I’d be a fisherman in Fažana.
