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Cultural institutions have always claimed the authority to preserve culture. They decide what deserves to be remembered. What belongs in the archive. And, eventually, what becomes history. Today's guest has spent years asking a simple question: What happens if artists stop waiting for institutions and start building their own?
I met Simon Van Schuylenbergh during my years at P.A.R.T.S., back in 2017. The first time I stepped into his apartment, I was greeted by a giant zebra standing in the middle of the living room.I only later found out there were nine other giant zebras, all part of the stage design for one of Simon's solo performances.Looking back, it felt like a very good introduction to Simon's work.Everything begins with an improbable image. Then, somehow, it starts making perfect sense. In 2019, Simon ran Volksroom. An artist-run space where performers came to show ideas, and not conclusions. And a few years later came Ne Mosquito Pas. A platform built around an unusual invitation: "Artists are not expected to succeed; they are strongly invited to fail. "Perhaps because, once the pressure to make something "good" disappears, artists can finally get to the heart of what they want to make.
Last year, Simon gave birth to Anal Pompidou. A museum that doesn't exist, yet somehow feels very alive. Part institutional critique, part queer fantasy, part DIY cultural centre. Anal Pompidou has been running for a year now.The title makes people laugh. The programme keeps them coming back. Every evening begins the same way. Simon welcomes us into the 30-seat audience, always sold out.He presents the night. Then come three artists. Three performances.Ten minutes each. No permanent collection. No wall texts. Just work.
Now entering its second season, Anal Pompidou proves that sometimes, all it takes to build an alternative to cultural institutions is: A good idea, a few talented artists, relentless conviction, and the audacity to call it one.