Museum of Broken Relationships

When Olenka Vyshtitsa returned to Zagreb from her vacation, she told Dražen Grubišić about her idea to create something called the Museum of Broken Relationships.

We agreed on that was a great idea, and I think Drazen started Googling, and, well, this is something that should exist somewhere.

She remembers they Googled the phrase Museum of Broken Relationships in multiple languages to see if someone else had already thought of it.

But all they found were websites offering advice to people who'd gotten their hearts broken, telling them to just get over it and move on.

You know, destructive advice, forget everything, erase everything, go shopping, prepare yourself for something new.

There

was nothing like what Olenka and Dražen were imagining.

They didn't think about it for a while, and a few years passed.

But then Dražen asked Olenka if she wanted to submit the idea, which was an archive for relationships that had ended, to a big art show in Zagreb.

And so Olenka just wrote it down, like one page, and that's what we sent.

And we got accepted, and we had 14 days exactly to really create this.

Olenka and Drazen started spreading the word among their friends and acquaintances.

They were looking for contributions, items left over from ended relationships.

And then, of

course, there was this big question mark.

Is this going to work?

But then, people started bringing them things.

One broken-up couple brought them a yellow Vespa they used to ride together.

Now that the relationship was over, they just wanted to give it away.

Someone gave them a cardboard coaster with love notes written on it.

One woman brought them an old journal where she'd written about a boy she'd loved as a student.

Olenka remembers she'd often meet up with these people in the main square of Zagreb, underneath the big clock in the center, to do a formal handoff.

She says it was moving, knowing that people, many of them complete strangers, were handing over memories for her to take care of.

Sometimes she recognized them as people she'd seen around the city, and she liked getting to know little pieces of their lives.

Like one man, who she sometimes saw in a bar.

When Olenka Vyshtitsa returned to Zagreb from her vacation, she told Dražen Grubišić about her idea to create something called the Museum of Broken Relationships.

We agreed on that was a great idea, and I think Drazen started Googling, and, well, this is something that should exist somewhere.

She remembers they Googled the phrase Museum of Broken Relationships in multiple languages to see if someone else had already thought of it.

But all they found were websites offering advice to people who'd gotten their hearts broken, telling them to just get over it and move on.

You know, destructive advice, forget everything, erase everything, go shopping, prepare yourself for something new.

There

was nothing like what Olenka and Dražen were imagining.

They didn't think about it for a while, and a few years passed.

But then Dražen asked Olenka if she wanted to submit the idea, which was an archive for relationships that had ended, to a big art show in Zagreb.

And so Olenka just wrote it down, like one page, and that's what we sent.

And we got accepted, and we had 14 days exactly to really create this.

Olenka and Drazen started spreading the word among their friends and acquaintances.

They were looking for contributions, items left over from ended relationships.

And then, of

course, there was this big question mark.

Is this going to work?

But then, people started bringing them things.

One broken-up couple brought them a yellow Vespa they used to ride together.

Now that the relationship was over, they just wanted to give it away.

Someone gave them a cardboard coaster with love notes written on it.

One woman brought them an old journal where she'd written about a boy she'd loved as a student.

Olenka remembers she'd often meet up with these people in the main square of Zagreb, underneath the big clock in the center, to do a formal handoff.

She says it was moving, knowing that people, many of them complete strangers, were handing over memories for her to take care of.

Sometimes she recognized them as people she'd seen around the city, and she liked getting to know little pieces of their lives.

Like one man, who she sometimes saw in a bar.