What even is a sýningarstjóri?
Following our New Year’s Wishes event where many shared their ideas, concerns, and questions, one issue surfaced with particular clarity: the need to speak openly about the role of the curator and the conditions under which curating takes place in Iceland. This conversation feels not only timely, but urgent. At stake are the sustainability of curatorial careers, which are made meaningful through artists and artistic work, the quality and depth of exhibitions and public programmes, and the ability of future generations to imagine curating as a viable professional path within the Icelandic art field. For institutions, this raises questions of responsibility, accountability and long-term vision. For students, emerging and well-seasoned practitioners, it shapes expectations about what kinds of futures are possible and under what conditions.
Where does the role come from?
The word “curator” comes from the Latin curare, or “to take care”. Historically, this idea of care was literal, practical, and custodial: early curators in Europe and North America were responsible for organising, maintaining and safeguarding collections. But the conditions under which many of these collections were built also matter. From the cabinets of curiosity of the 16th and 17th centuries were often stocked through colonial extraction, looting and profound power imbalances.Later, the rise of public museums in the 18th and 19th centuries, closely tied to imperial expansion, formalised curating further around four key tasks: preserving, selecting, researching and displaying.
Throughout the 20th century, particularly with the emergence of modern and contemporary art as global fields, the role expanded significantly. Curators increasingly became involved not only in conservation and display, but also in interpretation, critical engagement and the development of exhibitions as discursive spaces. Exhibitions stopped being neutral containers and became understood as mediums, or languages in their own right. Exhibitions generated meaning, rather than merely containing or presenting it.
From the late 1960s onwards, the rise of the independent curator reshaped the field again. Curators began working across institutions, collaborating internationally, and developing exhibitions with their own vision, sparking debates about power, authorship and visibility. This presented questions of who got to shape the stories of art, and on whose terms?
These historical layers help us understand how curating today is inseperable from artists’ ability to thrive. Curators advocate from art, not beside it. Their work is not just about managing collections, but it is concerned with caring for conditions, building relationships, fostering ideas and contributing to shaping how art is experienced.
Our take on curating and its conditions
The urgency to discuss what curating means to the ecology of the Icelandic art scene is underscored by the fact that, as far as our research shows, there are currently only two institutional positions in the country that formally carry the title curator. At the same time, curatorial work is being carried out across a wide range of contexts: by artists, organisers, writers, educators and cultural workers whose labor often falls outside official definitions or recognition. Therefore, we find it necessary to ask how curating is practised in Iceland and how it might be supported going forward. Crucially, it is important to consider what even a curator is in our specific context.
To ask what a curator is risks narrowing the conversation to titles or definitions, when in reality curating is inseparable from the conditions under which curating takes place. In Iceland, curatorial work is often project-based, precarious and dispersed across institutional, independent and informal contexts, carried out by individuals (and groups) whose labour is not always named, visible or sustainably supported. These conditions shape how curating is practiced. And consequently what kinds of projects are possible, how relationships with artists and communities are held, and how care; emotional, ethical and material, is exercised, often without being adequately acknowledged or resourced. Institutional frameworks, or their absence, play a decisive role, as do questions of compensation, continuity and long-term viability. Thus, a curator is not defined solely by a title or position, but by a set of connected conditions including labor, precarity, visibility, consideration and sustainability, that determine whether curatorial practice can endure and for whom it remains possible.
Curating is a role that is central to the contemporary art ecosystem. While the term is often associated with exhibitions, curating encompasses far more than selecting artworks and installing them in a space. At its core, curating is a form of long-term research and a relation or way of relating that shapes how art is encountered, contextualised, interpreted and sustained over time.
In its most recognisable form, the curator of exhibitions researches artistic practices, develops conceptual frameworks, selects works and organises exhibitions and collections. Curators work closely with artists, over extended periods, to develop ideas, commission new works and situate artistic production within broader cultural, historical and social contexts. Their work includes research, writing, editing, spatial thinking, production oversight, mediation, fundraising, budgeting and communication. Much of this labour takes place long before an exhibition opens and often continues long after it closes.
Beyond exhibitions, curatorial work takes other forms: organising public programmes, talks, screenings, publications, podcasts, performances or temporary interventions; managing commissions for new artworks; researching artists, practices or collections; and building long-term discursive platforms rather than singular events. What connects these diverse outcomes is not a format, but a process. All this is to say that curating is a way of working that combines critical thinking, care, responsibility and sustained engagement.
A lively curatorial field is essential to the development of the entire art ecosystem. Curators work with multiple artists while also bringing together a wide range of creative collaborators, graphic designers, editors, writers, educators, technicians and institutions, activating networks that extend far beyond individual projects. Curatorial work plays a crucial role in outreach and networking, facilitating international exchange by bringing artists and collaborators to Iceland and supporting Icelandic artists’ work abroad. Supporting curators, therefore, is not a niche concern but a structural investment in the resilience, visibility and critical capacity of the field as a whole.
Curating in Iceland: traditions, misunderstandings and precarity
In Iceland, the curatorial as a profession is relatively young and remains structurally fragile. At present, there are only two official positions labelled with “curator” within public institutions. These include Curator of Exhibitions at The National Gallery and Curator, Erró Collection at Reykjavík Art Museum. Owing to this, career development opportunities and job security for curators is limited. There is a widespread misconception that curators are relatively well positioned within the creative field and that they easily find work aligned with their studies and expertise. This is not the case. When curators in Iceland do find work, it is often under alternative job titles such as “project manager” or “department heads.”
This for us is a misnaming that obscures their professional profile especially as their international counterparts are titled head curator, assistant curator, curatorial research and so on. This lack of recognition of curatorial work has tangible consequences. When curatorial work is not named, it becomes harder to argue for appropriate compensation, timeframes, authorship and professional development, especially abroad. Curatorial labour remains invisible and expectations around exhibitions become compressed into production and delivery rather than research, dialogue, care and historical art regard. This also limits mobility beyond the local context. Internationally, curatorial experience is recognised through curatorial titles, so working under administrative labels weakens opportunities abroad. No institution in Europe would appoint a project manager to curate an exhibition.
On account of this perhaps the term sýningarstjóri which is used to describe curatorial roles in Iceland needs to be redefined. In English the term would translate to “manager of exhibitions”. While widely accepted, the word sýningarstjóri is limited as it frames the role as being solely about exhibitions (sýningar), overlooking the broader scope of curatorial work as outlined above. Rethinking terminology, description and naming is not cosmetic but a necessary step toward recognising curatorial labour as skilled, time-intensive work. This linguistic limitation shapes expectations. It can lead to misunderstandings about what curators do, compressing a complex process into the moment of display. It defines the curator as a bureaucrat more than an agent capable of creativity, meaningful exchange and alternative ways of organising within institutional and unconventional contexts. Indeed neighbouring Nordic countries have chosen to adopt the term kurator, reflecting a broader understanding of the profession and aligning with international discourse. Understanding what a curator is, where the role comes from and how it functions within Icelandic traditions is a necessary step toward building better conditions for both curators and artists.
At the same time, Iceland has a strong and valuable tradition of artist-led initiatives. Artists have historically taken on multiple roles: producing, organising, writing, installing and curating their own and others’ work, organising art festivals, establishing a museum! This tradition is not something to be replaced or undermined. On the contrary, it has been essential to the vitality of the Icelandic art scene. Acknowledging the role of the curator does not mean denying the curatorial intelligence of artists, nor insisting on rigid professional boundaries. Artists can curate, curators have their own artistic processes. What matters is recognising that curating is a form of labour and expertise in its own right. One that can support artists, strengthen contexts and improve the conditions under which art is shown and experienced. When curatorial work is rushed, underfunded or misunderstood, the result is often poor mediation, weak contextualisation, or exhibitions that fail to fully support the artworks they present. Making curatorial labour visible is therefore not about hierarchy, but about responsibility, about emotional support and the well-being of artists. By making the role of the curator visible, we do not diminish artistic autonomy. Instead, we strengthen the networks of care, dialogue and collaboration that allow art to thrive.
If curatorial work is understood as skilled time-based labour, further questions follow naturally: could there be a strand of funding that respects, recognises, acknowledges and supports curatorial work? Should curators be able to apply for Listamannalaun (artists’ salaries)? Should the Icelandic Art Fund have a specific funding category dedicated to curatorial labour, one that would be kept separate from the exhibitions production category? For independent curators in particular, the absence of sustained financial support makes it difficult to develop research-based practices or to take risks that do not immediately result in a visible outcome.
What could support look like?
A small number of art institutions in Iceland currently offer open calls for exhibitions, and among them Hafnarborg stands out as a consistent and well-established example of a curator-oriented opportunity. Its annual open call for a curated autumn exhibition, supported by a publication, provides an important professional platform for curators working in Iceland and demonstrates how open, transparent structures can support both curatorial practice and public programming. Beyond this example, opportunities for independent curators to propose and lead exhibitions remain limited. Open calls are more often directed towards artists’ portfolios, with exhibitions curated in-house, which can make it difficult for curators to develop and realise exhibition concepts autonomously. Where curators do work with institutions, this frequently happens through informal or project-based arrangements that rely on significant unpaid labour and offer limited long-term security. At the same time, these conditions point to clear possibilities for development. Greater transparency around institutional programming, clearer timelines for decision-making and more formalised pathways for curator-led proposals would significantly strengthen the professional landscape for curators. While invitations to contribute exhibition texts or assist with curatorial tasks offer valuable experience, they could be complemented by structures that allow curators to take on greater responsibility and authorship over projects.
Expanding opportunities for curator-led exhibitions through dedicated open calls or curatorial strands within existing programmes would support the growth of independent curatorial practices while also enriching institutional perspectives. Such approaches would not only improve working conditions for curators, but would also help diversify artistic voices and contribute not only to a more dynamic and innovative art scene but also to the long-term sustainability of both curatorial and artistic careers in Iceland. It is widely acknowledged that curatorial labor exists within Icelandic art museums, whether under the titles of project manager, head of department, or museum director. Nor is it being argued that curating is absent from the Icelandic art field, either institutionally or independently. Rather, the issue at hand concerns the precarious and opaque structures that continue to limit the long-term growth, accessibility and professional development of curatorial practice in Iceland.
One particularly concerning tendency is the increasingly common practice of not publicly announcing vacant positions within museums. Over the past year alone, at least three curatorial or curatorial-adjacent roles in leading Icelandic art museums appear to have been filled outside of open calls and not transparent hiring processes often with temporary contracts and their continued renewal in order to avoid making proper announcements. While informal recruitment is not unique to Iceland, its normalisation within publicly oriented cultural institutions raises serious questions about transparency, accountability and equal access to professional opportunities.
Given that only a very limited number of formally designated curatorial positions are currently visible within Icelandic art museums, a fundamental question emerges: are Icelandic museums, in a structural sense, curated? If curatorial responsibility is dispersed, obscured, or absorbed into administrative or managerial positions, what happens to curatorial accountability, research, and critical positioning? What is a museum without a curator? And relatedly, how are standards of quality, care and critical engagement upheld in the absence of clearly articulated curatorial roles?
This lack of structural recognition of curatorial work is also reflected in how curators are represented (or not represented) within the Icelandic art world.There is currently no active union or félagasamtök specifically for curators. Such a body could play a crucial role in advocating for the profession like ensuring curatorial perspectives are included on museum boards, participating in public and institutional discussions and contributing to policy-making that shapes the future of the field. Without collective representation, curators remain largely absent from the spaces where decisions about funding, programming and institutional priorities are made. This absence has direct economic consequences. Curators are for example not included in SÍM’s taxti (the Artists’ Association of Iceland’s recommended fee framework for fair pay or viðmið um sanngjarna greiðslu) despite the fact that curators often work under comparable conditions of precarity, short-term contracts and project-based income.
The exclusion of curatorial labour from such frameworks reinforces the misconception that curating is either administrative work or voluntary cultural service rather than a specialised professional practice. This is not a uniquely Icelandic problem. In 2023, the Swedish Curators’ Association published a nationwide report showing that even in a context where curating is an established profession, curators remain structurally undervalued and are excluded from long-term public funding and underpaid. The report frames this not as a failure of individuals, but as a cultural policy choice, warning that when curators are denied access to research grants, international residencies, stipends and fair-pay frameworks, the entire art ecosystem suffers. For Iceland where curatorial titles are rare, collective representation is absent and funding structures are even narrower, it signals that without political recognition and material support for curatorial labour, curating cannot be sustained.
We would welcome an expanded role for Icelandic Art Center in fostering spaces for development in the curatorial field. The center is uniquely positioned to generate sustained, high-profile opportunities for curators working in Iceland, yet this potential remains under-realised. One clear step would be to establish it as a standard practice rather than an exception, that Sequences, Iceland’s only art biennial, as well as the Icelandic Pavilion at the La Biennale di Venezia, are curated by art workers based in Iceland. Such commitments would need to be matched by long-term professional support, ensuring that these curators are not only visible locally but are equipped to develop international careers. This could include structured mentorship, funding, and institutional advocacy that enables curators to move beyond single commissions and into sustained global engagement. In addition, the center could initiate open calls for curatorial research trips, residencies, and collective platforms, creating entry points that are accessible rather than invitation-only. Finally, greater transparency around the visitor programme through public-facing outcomes such as masterclasses, panel discussions, or lecture series would significantly strengthen its impact. While these proposals may appear ambitious, they represent concrete steps toward fostering dialogue, collaboration, and long-term relationships within the field, rather than perpetuating isolated encounters that primarily serve institutional interests.
Ultimately, these questions are larger than curators alone. They concern the conditions under which art is researched, presented, and understood in Iceland. Institutions, funders, educators and policymakers all play a collective role in shaping these conditions. When curatorial labour is supported through equitable funding structures, fair pay, representation and collective organisation, the entire art ecosystem is strengthened. If curators are given the space to work sustainably, they are better positioned to advocate for artists, engage publics and contribute meaningfully to shaping the cultural scene they help bring into being.
Curating does not sit downstream from art, it is one of the conditions that make art public, legible, and durable in cultural memory. To sustain curators therefore sustains the ecosystem that sustains artists. The question is not whether Iceland can afford to support curatorial labour, but whether it can afford not to. When curators are structurally excluded, it is not only a profession that is diminished; it is the future audience for art, the international presence of Icelandic artists, and the collective imagination of what this field can become. Care is where the word began, but care is also where relevance begins. If we want art in Iceland to continue to thrive, curating must be recognised not as peripheral labour, but as a core cultural infrastructure. Art has no public future without those who work to bring it into view.
Below is a list of curatorial associations in the Nordic region that you might like to follow to be able to attend any future events, panels or symposiums, you might be able to apply for the IAC’s travel grant to attend or get your workers union to cover expenses if you are in a full time job at an insitution.
The Swedish Curators’ Association - https://svenskcuratorforening.se/
The Swedish Curators’ Association is a politically independent non-profit organisation to represent, safeguard and promote curators’ professional, economic and social conditions by
The Norwegian Association of Curators - https://www.norskkuratorforening.no/
The Association works to enhance the understanding of curatorial practice in Norway and Sápmi to promote the legal and economic conditions of its members vis-à-vis public policymakers and cultural institutions.
UKK (Young Artists and Art Mediators) in Denmark - There is not a Danish equivalent, this is the closest organisation to it - https://ukk.dk/en
UKK is a professional organisation for artists, curators, and art mediators. We work for a sector of art with more diversity, new forms of practice, and mission-oriented structural development.
The Association of Curators in Iceland - Has not been active as there have not been any more meetings or activity apart from the intital meeting to found the association in 2023 -
https://association-of-curators-in-iceland.mailchimpsites.com/
Its purpose is to represent, protect and promote curators' professional-, economic- and social position
To our knowledge there are no more counterparts in Scandinavia please send us a message on instagram if you are a part or know of any other associations or unions in the broader Baltic and Nordic region. We will update this entry accordingly with that information and other resources made aware to us.
