He says I She says: Pobody's nerfect

She says:

I've been walking past the Gewerbemuseum regularly for years. I've often thought to myself, ah exciting, a museum, what's there, but that's as far as it went. Until now.

An exhibition about flaws, shortcomings and defects appeals to me. Mistakes are often more attractive than cold perfection, as shown by the widespread use of retro filters on Instagram, the popularity of live performances or the absurd value of misprinted stamps. The title also promises a certain level of humour and a playful approach. We are excited.

A collection of matches hangs at the entrance to the exhibition. Peter Herbert has collected and catalogued unsuccessful examples over the years and has even ended up in the Guinness Book of Records for "collecting the largest collection of matchstick abnormalities". I find the crooked, overly thick or multi-headed matches with far too much or no sulphur at all very amusing.

In general, I find the exhibition very entertaining. There is a collection of objects with production faults, a slideshow with pictures of makeshift household repairs or a list of inventions that were born out of mistakes. Post-its, for example! But there are also thought-provoking moments in the beautifully curated exhibition, such as a series of photos of increasingly abstract crocheted bed shoes that document the maker's sinking into dementia.

One of the focal points is design. Here, the implementation of coincidences in manufacturing processes, the flirtation with materials or the humorous taking of everyday objects to extremes is thought-provoking. Is a razor with blades on both sides of the handle really better than its more boring counterpart?

The exhibition ends with design. The last room invites you to get creative: Chairs are created with wood, adhesive foils or on the computer. And here I also find my co-author again, who is always a little quicker than me when reading the exhibition texts (a realisation that naturally makes me all the slower). He saws, screws and hammers with satisfaction and proves it: When the journey is so much fun, the end product doesn't really matter after all.

He says:

Admittedly, for a resident who is passionate about culture and knowledge, I know very little about the proud museum city of Winterthur. I live a few houses away from the Gewerbemuseum and don't even know what exactly they do. Based on the name, I'm expecting economic history. On their website, however, they promise me "sensual insights into current topics". Sounds more like fine art. However, the exhibition is called "Perfectly Imperfect", which sounds like grammar.

It turns out that the prefix "art" is also included in the name of the museum. And when we talk about arts and crafts, we usually just talk about design. So uncomfortable chairs, I think, and feel like an expert when the exhibition actually presents five chairs, one more impractical than the other, but even with the torched and melted ones, the information boards place a lot of emphasis on the fact that you can still sit on them.

The exhibition picks me up with its humour. It runs the risk of becoming somewhat arbitrary with its enormously broad theme of flaws in all kinds of products. Fortunately, it makes plenty of room for playful works such as the overly scientific collection of matches, the unmotivated Farfalla noodle or the Prosecco glass, whose 1 litre markings are as weird as if you were already drunk.

And at the end, to my delight, there is a room in which you actually have to make your own chair out of roof battens. Mine is colossally uncomfortable. Impressed by my design talent, I strut into the museum café.