CP: So you were there already before the decision of the foundation was made?
 
MD: Yes, I was working on the anatomy collections. We were a small group of six  working on different locations and at that time, we came together more often to create a collection policy. I started to experiment with smaller exhibitions ex-situ, in the city at various locations and out of that grew the idea to curate a permanent display. It was a very important step of the university to give trust to this, I would consider myself young at that time, with a very young and small team. They could have easily given the key to a big company and said: Create a museum. But they didn’t. So it was really one of the most beautiful times of my career. First of all I started with the mission and vision of the museum – What is the narrative? Who are we going to be? Who are we talking to?  – rather than looking at the collections and deciding what we should display. Often exhibitions start with a centrepiece and a decision what to show. And we did it the other way around. Once the mission and the narrative was ready, I started to dive into the collections to figure out how to tell a story. Another big decision was not to create a museum on the history of the university but on scientific thinking. Over the years our focus shifted from the scientific process to research methodologies. The artistic research process is also very present here today. That’s why I call the GUM a research museum, not a science museum.
 
CP: There is another important word in your mission: doubt. When you started to work here as the director of the museum, you wrote a book, The Museum of Doubt, which I would describe as a manifesto or mission statement for the GUM, like a new software. What is the Museum of Doubt in your understanding, especially when it comes to science?
 
MD: During the preparation time of the museum, I interviewed lots of scientists and asked them: What is science? And I was very frustrated because I got so many different answers.
They started to argue amongst each another, everybody claiming their own truths. Getting out of this dilemma was difficult. An important step in the further process was, to not tell what science is, but rather to explore with visitors what science can be. So I started to work on questions like: What does a philosopher have in common with a physicist? And a linguist with a botanist? And doubt was the only term they all had in common. They all agreed that you can never proclaim truth and that you always have to be open to throw your hypothesis away. For me doubt is the core of scientific thinking, but I’ve also learned that it’s such an important word for so many other knowledge creating disciplines, not just science. It’s also important in the arts. Doubting connects people if you don’t just want to be a follower and go into absolute certainties and truths.

CP: I understand this approach and understanding for developing a concept for a museum but on the other hand I ask myself what are the things that you don’t doubt but deeply believe in. Things that you are deeply convinced about.
 
MD: I deeply believe in aesthetics and beauty because that’s something that you usually don’t connect to a science museum. Most of the time objects in science museums are displayed with lots of bright light and bright colors, they’re presented as knowledge carriers, whereas I think in our collections lies so much beauty. So that was another important decision: We’re going to display the objects as art objects and not just as tools. Our relatively dark light setting in this museum is evoking contemplation, it’s bringing out the beauty in the objects.
 
CP: So in your internal decision-making and the development of your curatorial concepts it plays a big role for your exhibitions how it feels, looks and sounds.
 
MD: Yes, that’s also the reason why we always work with theatre scenographers for the temporary collections because they create a different kind of experience. We understand our exhibitions as stages, like a set, a scenery.

CP: When you wrote the book you probably also had to make rather practical decisions at the same time like how to shape the institution: Who’s in my in staff? What kind of structures do we need to develop this unique and bold vision? How did you make this whole thing practical?
 
MD: The way that you ask sounds as if everything would be ready and finished whereas I don’t feel like I’m ready. Everything is still in the making and in the experimental phase but like I said before, I think it’s important to stay in that making phase. We are a liminal organisation and my exercise is to keep it in this liminal phase and not let it land as an institution. It should never be ready. It should always be like something that can organically grow in order to feel what is happening in society, what is happening within the university. We are fluid and flexible. It’s a constant exercise to position ourselves within the academic and cultural field, in connection with museums and the arts. We never landed, we’re always in between. It’s not an essentialist approach. I think that’s a very healthy state for a cultural institution.
 
CP: When I was visiting the exhibitions and spent time looking at the objects and the way how you place them and contextualize them, there was one animal that resonated beautifully with the way how you describe your museum of doubt: The Tasmanian tiger wolf. Could you tell me a bit about that animal?
 
MD: It’s an animal that is extinct, although there are stories that it isn’t.

CP: Doubts…
 
MD: Exactly. It’s an animal that is not easily defined or put in taxonomy. It’s cute but it’s dangerous. It’s representing something that scientists are very curious about and something that humans really try to put in a box but it’s not possible. It’s a liminal, indecisive existence. So in that way, it connects strongly with who we are, yes.

CP: How do you bring this kind of practice into your internal work? When you have meetings, when you have to make decisions about your strategy, what you are planning to do in two or five years, how much of your understanding of doubt or this liminality also feeds into your internal work and daily practice?
 
MD: I’m not leading this organisation like an institution. We’re at a time where lots of people would feel comfortable to land in certain routines. I break that up constantly. For example now I’m trying to install the housemaker programme for performing artists who are not just here as residents but become also members of the team. Bringing artists into a team can be disruptive, because they introduce a different way of seeing and thinking. But for me, it’s constructive disruption. At their best, they are both co-builders and a thorn in the side. This can be difficult sometimes but it’s a very healthy way to keep it dynamic and alive.
 
CP: A colleague of yours from the Manchester Museum, Ciaron Wilkinson, said: If you follow the same process, you get the same result. And I guess, if you don’t doubt the process, you don’t get a different result. Is this the reason why your exhibitions do look and feel differently?
 
MD: Yes, and it’s definitely not choosing the easy path.
 
CP: But it creates difference.
 
MD: Yes, you know I’m a veterinarian, anatomist by training, and I’ve always kept this kind of naïve approach into this field. I don’t come from culture or arts and I’m not a cultural scientist. So I had no blueprints in my head and I keep that kind of naivety consciously.
 
CP: I hope you can hold that for a long time and especially for the future. I wish you all the best for that. Thank you.