An Olaerts writes about the 'Collection of M'

You may have noticed that, since last summer, we have completely revamped the exhibition. Until 2029, you can view a new selection of some 300 historic and contemporary artworks in eleven rooms. Together, these comprise the ‘Collection of M’.

You probably know An Olaerts as a columnist for De Standaard. At M’s request, she roamed the museum rooms in search of an answer to this question: How on earth do you choose 300 pieces from 58,000?

Narrowing down a collection of 58,000 artworks to just 300 pieces takes courage, perhaps even a touch of magic or a bit of discord. M’s curators insist that it’s not the case, though. No hot tears in the museum storeroom, no harsh words in the meeting room. Despite sitting around a table with contradictory artworks from both ancient churches and contemporary studios. Above all, they shared a firm belief in a story that they wanted to tell together.

M's new anniversary collection display encompasses contradictions and things like a silver balloon. The exhibition is a tribute to humanity, which has been grappling with the same concerns and marvels for countless centuries. Occasionally, life can be like a vale of tears, but sometimes, it’s nothing like that at all. However, one constant remains: the footprints of those who have trod the same path before us. Whether they were disabled, speed demons, slowcoaches, soaring birds, cranky old folks, or even statues of stone, every single person leaves behind a unique legacy. No matter what period you find yourself in, art reminds you that you are never alone.

Zaalzicht 'Collectie van M', 2024, M Leuven, foto: © Wouter Van Vooren voor M Leuven

Bezoekers in de zalen van de 'Collectie van M' — Wouter Van Vooren voor M Leuven

Bezoekers krijgen een rondleiding van een gids in de tentoonstellingszalen van M Leuven — Wouter Van Vooren voor M Leuven

If loneliness were a small room, you’d see a balloon floating in the corner of the ceiling. It’s an illusion: someone was here before you. Once you’re gone, someone else will come. Don’t forget that! If you do, seek solace in M Leuven. Eleven rooms await, where you can hear time murmuring: Come, listen. Take comfort. Look at St. Jerome, sitting in his study with a skull. Consider Chronos in the woollen threads of a tapestry. See the girl on the banks of a river. She is staring at a clog with a sail on the water.

Art can do anything. It can float on paint and drift on indignation. The image of Sakala, the Congolese boy who once attended school in Ghent, permeates you like a toxin. His narrative consumes your heart. Even if you are a postmodern savage, a spoilt museum goer, or an Instagrammer with the attention span of a goldfish. There are so many hooks in M Leuven’s new exhibition that you’re always going to get caught on one of them. It’s Velcro, thanks to the bravado of curators, departmental heads and audience engagement staff.

“We’re not going to stick to chronology”, they said. “We’re going for transhistorical.” Abolishing chronology is the audacious summary they would never articulate themselves. They are too polite to raise their voices. To achieve this, they have recruited a prominent columnist who can confidently declare: “Go and examine it three times, as there is much to observe. It’s amusing, passionate, sensitive, exhilarating, harrowing, taxing, and timeless. It is also pornographic, which has endured for all time.”

Be daring.

An Olaerts

Author, Journalist and Columnist