Interview with Silke Zimmermann, Curator of Musik und Lesung at the Krefeld Pavillon
The Krefeld Pavillon by artist Thomas Schütte opened in 2019 as part of a Bauhaus exhibition. Who would have thought that just a few years later, the octagonal central structure would attract international top musicians?
Since 2022, the pavilion has become a venue for music and literature. Musik und Lesung, curated by Silke Zimmermann, brings together international artists from a wide range of styles, from Brad Mehldau to Till Brönner. The space is intimate, the names are big. Cross-genre and unexpectedly different.
I spoke with curator Silke Zimmermann about how she puts together this wide-ranging program and what inspires her. Zimmermann, who has previously worked for Sony Classical, the Berlinale, and Schloss Elmau, is uniquely qualified to assess what the cultural landscape currently needs, what it is lacking, and which crucial aspect continues to be overlooked time and again.
The Krefeld Pavillon is known for its acoustics and its special atmosphere. What makes this place so unique for you?
The wooden octagon, where the artists sit almost in the center and the audience surrounds them, creates an extraordinary sense of closeness. We only have 99 seats. That is radical intimacy. It creates a completely different dialogue between stage and audience.
The pavilion practically invites experimentation. Adaptations, miniatures, things you wouldn’t attempt elsewhere emerge here. At some point I walked past this pavilion, right by a lake, and thought: perfect. The fact that the artist Thomas Schütte so warmly supports this new use is a real gift to me.
The program of Musik und Lesung ranges from jazz to literature, from international stars to emerging talents. How do you curate such a diverse program?
My main aim is to surprise people. My curatorial approach is to experience a small miracle. That’s why genres are not the focus. The understated title Music and Readings is very deliberate, because that is exactly what happens there.
Of course, there are clear technical limits. We only have one emergency exit, so certain line-ups, such as a trio, are simply not possible. Lighting is also an issue. For example, we’re not allowed to hammer nails into an artwork. All of this defines what is feasible.
I experience the pavilion as a kind of cabinet of curiosities. And then things happen that you can’t plan. Till Brönner, for example, played a miniature with us. He hardly ever does that. For me, that’s a small miracle. It has to be gripping for 90 minutes. I find there is an incredible amount of arbitrary programming where you’ve already heard everything after five minutes. My ears want to be surprised, and so do the audience’s.
What mistakes do you keep seeing at festivals or other cultural events?
There is too much focus on content and too little on the setting. A festival is a highly complex process, but the location is often neglected. I can’t believe how many venues smell of cold smoke. The spaces aren’t cared for.
Another mistake I often see is redundancy. We don’t need to duplicate what already exists. We don’t need the tenth poetry slam in a city. Everything is the same everywhere. Instead, we should be closing gaps and clearly asking: why is it worth going out tonight? People are more hesitant than ever to leave the house. The sofa at home is very comfortable.
We’ve been sold out for four years. Not just because of the names, but above all because of the atmosphere. In the beginning, people came who didn’t even care who was performing. They wanted to experience this special space.
What makes a good festival venue, regardless of its size?
The ambiance has to be right. Not just on stage, but all around. No long cloakroom lines, no dry pretzels, no bad parking situation, no disgusting toilets. When I was 30, I didn’t care about any of that. I went to Tresor in Berlin myself. It was dark, loud, terrible. Today, I do care. And that’s the feedback I get all the time.
We finally need to understand that the audience going out is getting older. They want to spend a nice evening with friends. That requires a well-crafted overall experience. When the surroundings are right, you can focus much better on the program.
The Krefeld Pavillon attracts a diverse audience, including many older visitors. What do curators need to keep in mind?
By 2030, every second person in Germany will be over 60. The baby boomer generation will therefore shape concert life for a long time. For this generation, the setting is crucial: a good glass of wine, a well-maintained space, social closeness. The music sometimes moves into the background and becomes secondary.
Younger people tend to attend concerts or festivals for the act itself. They are more willing to accept bad drinks. But if we think about culture in the long term, we have to take these priorities seriously. In my view, the older generation is treated unfairly. After all, these are the people who experienced Woodstock and similar events firsthand.
What do you wish for the German cultural landscape?
Money. Quite simply. We have enough talent. But it can’t be that clubs have to beg for their existence every single year, or that pianists play on scrapped grand pianos because there’s no money for instruments.
Culture needs a different anchoring in public budgets. Appreciation is lacking. At the same time, you can see what happens when an artist like Till Brönner performs in Krefeld. The entire city is proud. Culture as a location factor is massively underestimated. Companies don’t settle in cities where nothing is happening. People don’t want to live in cities without a cultural program. I don’t go to the theatre every day, but I’m still proud of the theatre here in Krefeld. They do an outstanding job.
How has cultural communication changed over the past ten years?
I’ve observed that cultural communication has become far more professional and much faster. In the past, you sent out a press release and offered a press meeting. Journalists could respond with yes or no. Today, sometimes ten minutes after a concert ends, a fully edited piece is already online, with text, GIFs, and icons. Sometimes I think I’m dreaming. I find it phenomenal and have the greatest respect for it.
At the same time, we must not forget the classic channels. For people over 60, flyers still work extremely well. We sell a large proportion of our tickets through flyers. If we want to continue reaching this generation, we need exactly this mix.
What do you see as the future of festivals?
Those that will survive are the ones that take curation seriously and sharpen their profile to the maximum. For me, the formula remains: 50 percent program, 50 percent setting.
Is there an anecdote from your work that has stayed with you to this day?
Yes, absolutely. I once invited John McLaughlin to Schloss Elmau. An absolute icon, the first major fusion guitarist to work with Indian musicians. I could hardly believe my luck. Shortly before the concert, at 6:30 pm, he came to me and asked for a special cable. His entire band was there, tons of equipment, but this one 75-centimeter cable was missing.
The house electrician helped us build a cable in seven minutes. As a result, I had a very stressful concert hour. But it was the concert of concerts. I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened if we’d had to cancel. Normally, artists like that travel with five guitars. He had only brought this one.
