Discussion: How can all this work actually be sustained? How do you account for unaccounted personal, social and economic sustainability within a climate-neutral endeavor?

Sustainability studies highlight that to ensure long-term coexistence on the Earth, we must go beyond addressing environmental sustainability alone and begin to account for economic, social, and cultural dimensions. While achieving climate neutrality is undoubtedly the most urgent prerequisite for any sustainable coexistence on a planet heading toward climate catastrophe, it addresses only one specific ecological aspect. In our project, we often encountered the challenge of balancing climate neutrality with other dimensions of sustainability, and trade-offs proved inevitable.

A 2021 study by Julie’s Bicycle estimates the visual arts’ annual carbon footprint at approximately 70 million tons of emissions—less than 0.2 percent of global emissions. These emissions primarily stem from visitor traffic, building energy use, and art shipments. Public art institutions contribute around 11 percent of this total, with large institutions leading the way due to their international exhibitions, jet-setting lifestyles, and significant visitor traffic. This illustrates the scale and the context we entered with SALT. CLAY. ROCK., a transnational yet predominantly regional project focused on the German–Hungarian axis. Compared to its 2.5-year timeframe, the project operated on a relatively modest budget.

Thematically centered on energy futures and deep-time, through the lens of nuclear research, we initially embraced the challenge of realizing the two-year research and exhibition project in a climate-neutral way. However, it soon became evident that climate-neutral production required extensive research and learning. It was a complex and often infeasible endeavor. On one hand, exploring and implementing climate-neutral solutions significantly increased our already underpaid workload and related stress. And on the other, the moderate budget frequently ruled out the possibility of opting for expensive climate-neutral alternatives without compromising the project’s content or focus. Recognizing these difficulties, we invited the working group members to reflect on their experiences and working conditions by answering the following questions:

1. During the SALT. CLAY. ROCK. project (fall 2022–end of 2024), how many hours per week did you work on average (both within and outside of the project)?

2. If you calculate your hourly wage by dividing your income by these hours, what would it be?

3. Did you take any holidays when you were entirely free from work? If so, how long?

4. Overall, how would you assess your personal and economic sustainability during this period?

5. Were there instances where you had to compromise climate neutrality for personal or economic sustainability or to maintain the project’s conceptual focus? Please provide one or two examples.

The average weekly workload of the group members ranged between eight and fifteen hours. As one curatorial team member noted, calculating the hourly wage “would only make one very sad”; indeed, the wage would be around half of the minimum wage in Germany. For all participants, SALT. CLAY. ROCK. was a side project alongside various freelance engagements or part- or full-time employment. Two members also balanced care responsibilities for young children. Characteristically, all participants were overworked, often working around the clock, and experienced phases of exhaustion. Those employed by institutions enjoyed greater financial stability compared to freelance curators. Taking real holidays proved challenging for everyone. Many participants attended online meetings and responded to emails even during our supposed breaks, or had to help out during holiday due to an emergency. The team collectively paused the project between December 20, 2023, and February 12, 2024, but most members still evaluated their personal sustainability during the project as poor. Work-related stress frequently affected physical and psychological health, personal relationships, and overall well-being. These strains also impacted the group’s social cohesion, stemming from the inequitable division of underpaid labor among members with diverse backgrounds, life situations, and skill sets. Additional pressures arose from illnesses and competing work obligations.

In these conditions, the group occasionally prioritized other dimensions of sustainability over ecological ones. For instance, we used private cars for research trips to remote villages to save time and money. Similarly, during production, we sometimes opted for familiar materials and methods rather than investing additional effort in researching and testing climate-neutral alternatives. Despite these challenges, and even personal difficulties, we never seriously considered reducing the project’s scope to ease our workload. On the contrary, our enthusiasm often led us to embrace new topics, ultimately increasing the number of commissions from seven to nine. We remained committed to producing professional, detail-oriented work while meeting curatorial obligations, yet neglected our own well-being—a persistent issue within the curatorial profession that deserves critical reflection and change.