Weird Museums: The Museum of Broken Relationships

In 2003, after four years of dating, Dražen Grubišić, a sculptor, and Olinka Vištica, a film producer, called things off. As they were ending things, they began to look around their shared home with a new perspective: what would they do with all the sentimental items they’d collected during their time together?

We’ve all been there; torn between wanting to preserve an important part of own life and being unable to cope with the painful reminders. Dražen and Olinka, the artists that they were, imagined a place where these sentimental items could be preserved and appreciated for the significance they held. They turned to the internet to get advice on how to handle some of their treasures, but the only advice they seemed to get was to burn or destroy the items in some sort of cathartic ritual and that was not what they wanted. They began to joke about the idea of a museum for items from breakups and three years later they opened their first exhibit.

In 2006 Dražen and Olinka introduced the world to the Museum of Broken Relationships in the form of a traveling art exhibit. They gathered items from friends, and the collection grew with donations from everywhere they visited. Their little museum made headlines all over the world; people really related to their cause.

The “Ex-Axe” - used to destroy the furniture of heartbreaker [Image from Wikipedia]

Soon they had so many artifacts that they needed to find the collection a more permanent home. After having their request turned down repeatedly by the Croatian Ministry of Culture, they decided to just invest in their own space and establish the museum privately. In October 2010, The Museum of Broken Relationships in Zagreb became Croatia’s very first private museum. Though no longer together romantically, Dražen and Olinka found a new iteration of their relationship: they were now successful business partners. They’ve been quoted as describing the museum in the following way:

“[The Museum of Broken Relationships is an] art concept which proceeds from the (scientific) assumption that objects (in the broadest sense, i.e., matter as a whole) possess integrated fields—‘holograms’ of memories and emotions—and intends with its layout to create a space of ‘secure memory’ or ‘protected remembrance’ in order to preserve the material and nonmaterial heritage of broken relationships”

[Quote from Wikipedia]

I got an inside look at the museum courtesy of Charlotte Fuentes, the collection manager and generally wonderful human being. She explains that the museum displays between 90 and 100 objects at a time, but they accept virtually every donation they receive. They have over 3000 different stories and items in their collection and are always eager for any other donations they can get. Each item contains a placard with the name of the object, where it came from, and the duration of the relationship, then a few lines telling its story. I highly recommend checking out their website (www.brokenships.com) and browsing the pages and pages of items in their virtual collection, it will make you laugh and it will make you cry. I asked Charlotte what she would consider the most popular item in the museum and she shared the following:

“… in reality, I don’t think there is a most popular item in the display as every visitor will react differently.The idea behind the museum is so universal that it appeals to people of different nationalities, religions, cultures, races and ages. Love in all its forms doesn't need an interpreter so everyone can find a story that speaks to them. People react differently based on their own experience, but one thing is sure – the exhibits never fail to provoke a response, be it a sudden giggle, a hidden tear or silent contemplation.”

This is my favorite part about art and art history; the ability to connect with others on a primally human scale through objects. I think this is just the loveliest (no pun intended) concept for a museum: I could read these stories all day. I asked Charlotte if she had any personal favorite pieces and she sent me the information on two she particularly loves.

The first item is a reel-to-reel tape recorder and audio tape from Tokyo. She sent me the description on the placard:

In 1968, exactly 50 years ago, my father passed away leaving me and my mother behind. I was barely one year old then. There had always been a tightly sealed package inside our family Buddhist altar, and my mother repeatedly warned me not to open the package. To satisfy my curiosity, she said it was a reel-to-reel audio tape recorder with the recordings of my father’s voice when he was still alive. The reason my mother sealed the recorder was because of an Italian film that she had seen. There was a scene in it in which a motherless young boy finds a tape recorder, and when he plays it back, he hears the voice of his loving mother. The boy misses her so much that he plays the tape over and over again, until he accidentally erases her voice. The shock she had had during the movie affected her so deeply that she decided to wrap the package up carefully and place it at the very back of the altar to avoid the same tragedy happening to her audio tape. How ironic it is to resign oneself to never hearing the voice of a loved one in an attempt to never lose them! I thought it was about time that we released ourselves from this binding spell, so I asked a technical expert to play this reel-to-reel recording that has since become an antique. It plays the sweet and loving voices of my mother and father, cheering and clapping, and encouraging me to sing. I had just started learning how to sing.

The other item she shared with me was one I saw on the website but was too grossed by to do any further reading. I’m so glad she shared the story though:

The item is a 27-year-old Scab from My First Love’s Wound. The relationship lasted from 1990 to 1993 in Austria. Here’s the description: In 1990 my friend, my first great love, had a motorbike accident. Its consequence was severe road rash with several large scabs. The accident shocked me although nothing serious happened. From then on, I had a constant fear that I might lose my dearest one. For that reason, I kept one of his scabs after it had fallen off, with the (not so serious) idea in mind of having him cloned in the future if need be. I was studying biology at the time. In the end, my constant fear for him led to our breakup. Paradoxically, my fear caused exactly that which frightened me most. I have kept the scab to this day, for twenty-seven years. Although I have since become a biologist, I have long lost the desire to clone my then partner. My fears, however, I still struggle with…

Charlotte says that the most common types of donation the museum receives are clothing, plush toys, and other such belongings of the ex. “But I feel like it is hard to say it is the most common donation", she says, “because once you have read the story each object becomes unique and so different from the other story that would have a similar object. All the contributions are unique, moving, surprising.”

Remnants of bygone relationships [Image from afar.com]

Like other private museums, the Museum of Broken Relationships has been hit hard by the COVID-19 pandemic and have lost a lot of visitors due to travel restrictions. Not only that, they’ve also faced a series of earthquakes in the past year. If you’re looking for a way to support them and their beautiful cause, the museum offers some great souvenirs and a book by Dražen and Olinka. And, of course, they are always gladly accepting your items and stories from failed love affairs.

Sources and Further Reading

Official Website - Museum of Broken Relationships

Wikipedia - Museum of Broken Relationships

Youtube Video - Visit the Museum of Broken Relationships | Atlas Obscura [this was a really incredible watch if you have 4 minutes!]

Zagreb’s Museum of Broken Relationships - Atlas Obscura

Everything You Need to Know About the Museum of Broken Relationships - afar.com

Q&A: Co-founder Drazen Grubisic on the Museum of Broken Relationships - westword.com