BB: You’ve often described collecting in terms of responsibility rather than ownership. What does responsibility mean to you today, and has that sense of responsibility changed as your collection has grown?
LJ: For me, responsibility means understanding a collection not as private property, but as a platform for voices that deserve to be seen and heard. I am particularly drawn to artists who engage with urgent social questions and transform deeply personal experiences into works that resonate collectively.
We live in an age of antiheroes. The defining figures of my generation are often marked by heartbreak, depression, self doubt, and vulnerability. Precisely because they reveal their flaws, they become relatable and offer points of identification, especially for younger people. I am deeply interested in artists who explore these tensions and make inner contradictions visible.
The collection has increasingly become a space for doubles, alter egos, and shadow figures. The doppelgänger can reveal what a single figure often cannot. It externalizes conflict and shows identity not as fixed, but as fragmented, fluid, and negotiable. As the collection has grown, my sense of responsibility has expanded as well. It is no longer only about supporting individual artists, but about creating contexts in which these works can enter into dialogue and invite reflection.
In a world that feels increasingly complex and contradictory, flawless heroes often seem unconvincing. The antihero, by contrast, offers a more honest and open projection surface, one that allows for uncertainty and failure. Often, we learn more from stories of failure than from conventional narratives of success.
BB: You have collected over one hundred works, and you still return to that Katharina Grosse tie when you speak about the collection. Beyond being your first purchase, why has that object remained so significant to you?
LJ: The painted silk tie by Katharina Grosse was the first artwork I purchased, using my first salary as an administrative employee at the town hall. Because a tie is traditionally worn in official contexts, it symbolizes for me the transition between the world of art and the structures of public administration.
At the same time, the tie represents the tension between social norms and individual desires, a conflict that also shapes many antiheroes. That is why it has remained so significant to me. It is not only the beginning of the collection, but also a key to understanding its underlying themes.
I have always been drawn to radical artistic positions, and over the years the collection has grown to include powerful younger voices such as Thomas Liu Le Lann, Ser Serpas, Julian Jakob Kneer, and Rindon Johnson. I grew up with a love for extreme sports. My father was a bodybuilder and owned an intimidating motorcycle collection. Perhaps that background explains my fascination with risk, intensity, and visionary ideas.
Many works in the collection invite moments of reflection about good and evil, art and popular culture, value and commodity. Together, they do not form a closed narrative, but rather a network of perspectives. They reflect a contemporary condition in which the heroic is constantly deconstructed, fractured, or staged. The antihero becomes central not because it provides certainty, but because it endures ambiguity.
BB: You once said you don’t buy for your living room. What drives you to allow the collection to exist beyond your own walls?
LJ: I am deeply drawn to works that generate social interaction. Because I regularly present the collection publicly in repurposed spaces such as a former chapel, a butcher shop, a power station, or an industrial villa, the exchange with visitors has become an essential part of collecting for me.
The conversations I have with audiences, the impressions they share, and the discussions that emerge around the works continually teach me something new. They remind me how powerful art can be in bringing people together, creating networks, and initiating shared discourse that also changes us personally.
I often acquire installations because they allow me to remain in dialogue with the artists. Some of these works are impossible to live with in a conventional sense, such as Thomas Liu Le Lann’s seven meter tall depressive superhero. Yet they remain constantly present in my thoughts. It is very important to me to give these works visibility again and again, so that they can be experienced and shared with others.
BB: Has the collection taken on a life of its own?
LJ: I remember my first collection presentation very clearly. I had rented an empty chapel and installed a few small sculptures and works there. At the time, I could never have imagined that a decade later the collection would be presented in a major museum exhibition at Villa Merkel.
Working with the team there was an extraordinary experience. Together, we developed a rich educational program, produced films, and created a thematic thread that connected the different aspects of the collection. I am especially grateful to Sebastian Schmitt, who created an outstanding educational program with great dedication. Through films, guided tours, a children’s program, and the antihero library, he succeeded in creating a vivid narrative thread that connected the themes of the collection and engaged a wide range of visitors.
What fascinates me most is seeing how the works continually enter into new dialogues with one another and open up unexpected questions. The reactions of visitors and the response from the press were overwhelming. I could never have dreamed of such resonance. I feel very fortunate to have been invited to present the collection, participate in talks, and discuss it in inspiring publications. In that sense, the collection has indeed developed a life beyond my own intentions.
BB: You’ve spoken about growing alongside the artists you collect. Have those relationships changed the collection in ways you might not have anticipated?
LJ: The Jakob Collection is, in many ways, a collaborative project involving young artists, researchers, writers, and gallerists. I am constantly asking how we can support one another in advancing new ideas.
From this network, many unexpected collaborations and projects have emerged. The collection also builds bridges within the tri border region between Germany, France, and Switzerland. I travel to many openings and exhibition projects by artists in the collection, and through these journeys I continually encounter new places, curators, and ways of thinking.
What I could not have anticipated is witnessing how some of these young artists have developed over the years, creating remarkable exhibitions and extraordinary bodies of work. Following an artist early in their career, or sharing in the excitement of a gallery presenting their work at an art fair, brings me genuine joy.
I am deeply grateful for the encounters that the art world has made possible. They have fundamentally changed my life, and many of these professional relationships have grown into lasting friendships.
BB: I noticed writing is an important way you engage with the collection. What does writing allow you to understand differently?
LJ: Part of my engagement with art is highly social, but another part is deeply personal and research driven. I spend many hours in libraries such as the ZKM Library in Karlsruhe, studying texts, reading essays, and writing extensively for my own archive.
Literature plays a central role in my understanding of art. I am particularly inspired by Ulrich Bröckling’s concept of the post heroic hero, which has strongly influenced the way I think about the collection. For our last collection presentation, we organized the exhibition into chapters inspired by literary works such as Hermann Hesse’s explorations of the doppelgänger and Han Kang’s quiet antiheroine in The Vegetarian.
Writing allows me to slow down and uncover connections that might otherwise remain invisible. It helps me move beyond an immediate emotional response and situate the artworks within broader contexts of literature, sociology, and art history. This intersection between disciplines is something I would like to continue exploring in future projects.
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