Kathleen Soriano, a British curator, is spearheading the 150th-anniversary celebration of Lithuanian artist M.K. Čiurlionis with a major exhibition titled ‘From Amber to the Stars. Together with M.K. Čiurlionis: Now and Then.’ Opening on March 21st at the M.K. Čiurlionis National Museum of Art in Kaunas, Lithuania, and running through October, the exhibition promises a fresh perspective on the artist’s work, placing him in dialogue with contemporary artists from around the world. Soriano, known for her work in broadening the artistic canon, previously curated a successful Čiurlionis exhibition at London’s Dulwich Picture Gallery in 2022. We spoke with her this February about the challenges and rewards of bringing this ambitious project to life.
You curated the inaugural Čiurlionis exhibition in the United Kingdom, which was very well received. Could you walk us through the process of how that came together?
I used to be the director of a wonderful museum in the UK countryside. Early on, I wanted to exhibit a contemporary Australian artist, but there was concern that nobody would attend because the artist was unknown. That experience stayed with me. Later, at the Royal Academy, I realized that large institutions have a responsibility to broaden the canon and bring more artists to the public’s attention. I curated a large exhibition of Australian artists, partly so that future curators outside London could point to the Royal Academy’s precedent when proposing shows of lesser-known artists.
This belief in expanding the range of exhibited artists aligns with the Dulwich Picture Gallery’s “revelatory” programming strand, which showcases artists who are not widely known. I curated a successful exhibition there on Norwegian artist Harald Sohlberg. Afterwards, they asked me who I’d like to feature next. Because of my growing reputation for championing overlooked artists, I received many suggestions. Justė Kostikovaitė, then the Cultural Attaché of Lithuania in the United Kingdom, recommended Čiurlionis.
I found his work incredibly interesting, particularly his leaning towards Symbolism. Symbolist art, with its search for meaning, resonates strongly with contemporary audiences. Čiurlionis’s approach, his dramatic and powerful story, and the scale of his paintings all felt like a perfect fit for the intimate, domestic space of the Dulwich Picture Gallery.
I visited the museum in Kaunas multiple times, meeting with Osvaldas Daugelis, the director, and other key Čiurlionis experts, including the former president of Lithuania, who has written extensively about him. Everyone was incredibly generous and open, which is crucial when dealing with an artist of national importance. Often, there can be a possessiveness that hinders collaboration, but that wasn’t the case here. Working with the museum was a joy, and the fact that most of Čiurlionis’s works are held in one collection simplified the selection and loan process.
The Dulwich exhibition was a significant success. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how it would be received, but it seemed to strike a chord. Positive press coverage helped, and it coincided with a re-release of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which perhaps resonated with the fantastical elements in Čiurlionis’s work. We saw a diverse audience, including many young people and gamers. It was gratifying to see people finding different things in his art.
You mentioned that Čiurlionis is a figure of national importance for us. What’s your perspective on that kind of national focus? Does Great Britain have similar figures?
Historically, most countries have a single artist they elevate. In England, we have John Constable and J.M.W. Turner, artists who represent the height of artistic achievement and have international reputations. Constable, in particular, depicted a beautiful, peaceful vision of England. It’s about the power of culture and creativity. It’s fascinating that we often define a country not by scientific discoveries, but by literature, music, and art. In a world focused on STEM, we sometimes forget that culture and creativity unite us and provide shared experiences. We all seek that out. When you visit a new place, the first thing you do is explore the cultural sites. It’s at the heart of who we are.
Curating a major exhibition about Čiurlionis in his home country is different from showcasing him in the UK. How did you approach this?
Perhaps I was a bit naive, but because I love the museum and its staff, I didn’t initially feel the weight of potential scrutiny. I’m comfortable making exhibitions; it’s what I do. I have a clear vision, knowing that thematic exhibitions, especially, can be approached in countless ways. There’s no single right answer. It’s about the curatorial team and the artists they bring together.
I loved the creative process of collaborating with the two wonderful Lithuanian curators, developing ideas, and seeing the works alongside each other. Of course, now that the exhibition is about to open, it becomes a bit more daunting. But I’m confident that working with the Lithuanian curators has ensured we haven’t made any major missteps. We’ll see.
What was your initial idea for presenting Čiurlionis to both Lithuanian and international audiences?
The most important thing was to encourage people to look again. I know how easy it is to think you already know an artist and stop truly seeing their work. Museum displays often remain unchanged for long periods. I wanted to present Čiurlionis in a different light, alongside artists with similar existential concerns. The goal was to help people understand him in new and interesting ways.
Gretta, the other curator, was also keen to engage different audiences, including those with a greater interest in science. We incorporated elements of scientific interest into the exhibition to further encourage a fresh perspective on Čiurlionis. We’re not trying to change his story; it’s about prompting people to consider it in the context of other artists, both past and present.
Why was it important to include contemporary artists from around the world?
Again, it’s about reaching diverse audiences. Kaunas has a strong reputation for contemporary art, with its regular biennial. However, many people who attend the biennial might not consider visiting a Čiurlionis exhibition, thinking it’s art from the past. I’ve always liked juxtaposing past and present.
Čiurlionis has much to say to contemporary artists, and, in fact, several of the contemporary artists in this exhibition had never heard of him before. Now, they’re passionate about his work. His inspiration remains relevant to artists today. It’s valuable for artists to see how a predecessor grappled with similar themes and how they expressed them.
The exhibition is divided into thematic sections: the sea, the cosmos, and a connecting “navigation” section. Within the cosmos section, there are areas devoted to the sun, the moon, and the creation of the world. The works within each section resonate and dialogue with each other across time, showing how different artists approach similar themes.
Does literature or music play a role in the exhibition, or is it solely visual arts?
Literature is definitely present. Čiurlionis was heavily influenced by writers, so we have Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, books by Nietzsche, and a crucial book by Camille Flammarion with a famous engraving that also inspired contemporary artist Anselm Kiefer. It’s fascinating to see how the same sources of inspiration continue to resonate.
There’s a section in the sea portion of the exhibition that explores the Jūratė myth, represented through art objects. Music is present in Katy Paterson’s work, where she plays Vivaldi’s Four Seasons on a turntable that rotates at the speed of the Earth, making it almost imperceptible.
The artist duo Semiconductor has recorded solar flares, accompanied by white noise, which is another musical intervention. And at the beginning of the exhibition, Čiurlionis’s De Profundis is played on headphones alongside a sculpture installation by Miguel Rothschild, also titled De Profundis.
We’re also showing Georges Méliès’s A Trip to the Moon, the first science fiction film. And, most importantly, we’ve commissioned a new film from Emilija Škarnulytė, inspired by the exhibition’s themes, which will be shown in the museum’s auditorium.
How has the modernist architecture of the museum inspired your curatorial ideas?
I remember being impressed by the crown on the building, which cleverly incorporates elements of Čiurlionis’s paintings. That was a powerful image for me on my first visit. The museum has a grand, elevating entrance.
However, when creating the exhibition, the focus was primarily on the interiors. You work within the existing space. The architecture didn’t inspire the ideas for the exhibition, but it did influence the rhythm and pacing, the placement of works, and how they interact with the space. The U-shape of the gallery works perfectly, with the sea on one side, the cosmos on the other, and the connecting corridor.
My approach is to consider space and content together. We knew the themes were space and the cosmos, but how do you connect them? We realized that travel between the two happens either in a spaceship or a boat, and that became our narrative.
What has encountering Čiurlionis and his art revealed about Lithuania and its people?
Perhaps it’s more that I feel I’ve come to understand Čiurlionis better through working with so many Lithuanian people. It’s not just that I know he lived in a different time, but working with Lithuanians and visiting the country, understanding the landscape he loved, has given me a deeper insight.
What else have you learned during the curatorial process?
I’ve learned that the power of imagination is central to being a great artist, and how much bravery it takes to allow that to happen, especially given the difficulties Čiurlionis faced. He was incredibly resilient. He persevered because he knew it was important to communicate his thoughts and understanding through paint and music. He recognized these as vital forms of communication, as important as speaking or writing.
I’ve learned about the power of communicating through different forms and how masterfully he did it across a range of disciplines. And that his work can still move people today. Sometimes, Lithuanians might forget that because he’s placed in the past. Hopefully, this exhibition will help people see his continued relevance.
Has your choice to be an independent curator been rewarding?
That’s a big question. After 30 years working for large institutions, and coming from an entrepreneurial family, I wanted to see what I could achieve independently. I’ve been working for myself for 11 years, and I love it. But it’s hard work. I’m able to do it because of the connections and networks I built during my institutional career.
Working in the cultural sector today is challenging, particularly in the UK, with difficult funding situations, cost of living, and economic pressures. It’s even harder for artists. I’m fortunate to have had those years in an institution to build a foundation.
