Here’s the full transcription of this seventh article:
When Art Meets Hospitality: My Visit to the Sainsbury Centre
I often find myself weighing how much I should share about my experiences with galleries, museums, and professional connections, because in the arts, we all know it’s not always wise to speak too openly about who you know and what happens behind the scenes. Usually, I leave out much of what happens during my professional meetings (and, of course, my personal life, though the two are often closely intertwined). However, this time I felt the need to give more details about how my visit to the Sainsbury Centre unfolded, so that you could understand just how singular this institution truly is.
I live in London, and since I no longer have a car, travelling to other cities for exhibitions can sometimes be a real challenge. I received a few invitations from the Sainsbury Centre to visit, but because it’s based in Norwich, I never managed to make the trip. Last week, though, stars aligned: I was visiting my sister in a nearby city and she kindly offered to drive me. The only catch was that her small baby had to come along too. The plan was simple, I would meet a curator, see the show, chat a bit, and then I’d head back so my sister wouldn’t be left waiting too long. I didn’t expect it would turn into such a wonderful day, one where I could see art, meet inspiring people, and still enjoy real family time.
When we arrived, we were both impressed by the look and atmosphere of the University of East Anglia campus, where the Sainsbury Centre sits. Finding a parking space was easy, and once inside the museum, I was immediately greeted by the curator, who agreed to show me around. I introduced my sister and mentioned that she’d wait outside in the park with the baby. But the curator, who, as it will matter later in this story, happened to be a woman, insisted that they both join us for lunch before the tour. My sister isn’t in the arts, the baby obviously isn’t either (though I’m already working on it), and I was there more in a professional role than just dropping by to see a friend who happened to work there. But the curator welcomed us all without hesitation, which already set the tone for what would become an unusually warm day.
We were shown into the canteen and invited to help ourselves to sandwiches and drinks. Again, unexpected. The curator even chose a table where my sister could easily keep the stroller nearby in case she needed to step out quickly. We both felt a bit awkward at first, my sister has never joined me on a work meeting before, but at the same time, this didn’t feel like work at all. I’m always grateful when museum or gallery staff take time out of their busy schedules to guide me around, but here the level of hospitality was something else.
As you can imagine, my nephew quickly became a little star of the lunch table. I’m exaggerating a bit, but still, I was deeply moved by how warmly everyone engaged with us. Other staff members quickly joined us, sharing their expertise and career paths, and were not at all bothered by the occasional baby noises or interruptions. It felt less like a professional networking moment and more like forming genuine friendships.
At some point, I noticed that most of the people at our table, and at the nearby ones, were women, with only a few men around. Those sitting with us agreed that the Centre’s curatorial and marketing departments are indeed female-dominated. In London’s art scene, that imbalance is usually reversed, and it made me reflect on how much the care and attention we received that day may have been connected to the fact that women were leading the way.
After lunch, we headed to the permanent collection, and the presentation really stood out. The Sainsbury Centre was established when Sir Robert and Lady Sainsbury (yes, THAT Sainsbury family) donated their collection to the university. The display avoided the rigid categories typical of museums, such as period, theme, or medium. Instead, everything was placed at eye level with sculptures spaced widely enough so you could walk around them. It communicated a sense of interconnection, that art history is not a straight line, but a web of inspirations across cultures, eras, and geographies. That impression was crystallised for me in one particular installation: an empty glass case large enough for a human, with an open door and a sign inviting visitors to step inside, “become the artwork,” and write your own label. It was a reminder that every story and every person matters, regardless of where they come from or where they are headed.
Next, the curator led us to the exhibition Can We Stop Killing Each Other? downstairs. Again, my sister offered to wait upstairs, but once more the curator insisted she and the baby join us, pointing out the elevator to make things easier. It may sound like a small gesture, but such care for visitors is not something I encounter in every institution.
The exhibition itself left a strong impression. Despite being on the lower level, the space felt surprisingly open, but of course, having the curator guide us through it in complete silence, before anyone else arrived, was a big privilege. Like the permanent collection, the show didn’t follow chronological or thematic divisions but instead circled around the central question and dived even deeper: How can art and creativity help us build compassion, understanding, dialogue and healing?
Why do dramatic traditions from around the world include killing in their plots? Does violent in entertainment perpetuate real-life violence, or does it increase our capacity for self-reflection and self-control?
The final room was particularly powerful: monumental paintings by Ethiopian artist Tesfaye Urgessa, who was the artist in residence at the Sainsbury Centre, were displayed alongside pieces by old masters like Picasso and Monet. Not beside them as equals, but towering above them, overshadowing them, rewriting their place in the conversation. In the past, Picasso was perceived as a genius who developed new forms of artistic expression that reshaped modern art. Now, art history is finally acknowledging how deeply his innovations were indebted to African art, masks and sculptures in particular. In this show, Tesfaye’s works felt like a reclaiming of space for those overlooked influences and stories.
We ended the visit with a warm goodbye, followed by a stroll through the sculpture park with my sister and nephew. Students, couples, families, people with dogs, all moving among monumental works that seemed woven into daily life. I absolutely loved it. These sculptures didn’t need to prove themselves or demand intellectual justification; they stood, proud and enduring, part of the landscape.
The day left a deep impression on me. The art, yes, but also the people, the hospitality, the atmosphere. If you ever find yourself with a free day and want a place where nature and art coexist in a way that feels both thoughtful and restorative, the Sainsbury Centre is a rare gem.