Christine Würfel-Stauss, an accomplished attorney with a PhD in the philosophy of law, seamlessly balances her professional life with her dynamic passions in the world of art and fashion. Dividing her time between the U.S. and Germany, her homes serve as her own canvases, adorned with an impressive array of contemporary art and design that reflects a discerning eye.

Her journey into art collecting has been an organic evolution, guided by a profound appreciation for works  significance, meaningful connections with artists, and a sensitivity to works that resonate both intellectually and emotionally. “The fact that the acquisition of work is one of many necessary pieces to keep independent, sometimes critically acting, prolific artistic practices alive is what guides me most,” she says.

In this conversation, Würfel-Stauss shares how her collecting philosophy has transformed over the years, offering insights into where and how she acquires new pieces, and revealing stories of acquisitions—including the Rebecca Horn work that got away. She also delves into the interplay between art and fashion, and reflects on the challenges and rewards of collecting, including the logistical hurdles posed by a one-ton artwork by Carsten Höller.

Christine Würfel-Stauss with work by Ayako Rokkaku. Photo Max von Treu

Has your collecting philosophy changed since you began buying art?

It definitely has changed significantly along the way. In the beginning, my thoughts were centered around individual pieces as if each was a universe in its own right, an independent entity that got incorporated into me and my family’s life.

The first purchases were accompanied by the excitement and fascination of having private access to something that I used to admire only in publicly shared spaces. I felt so fortunate to suddenly be able to take care of something that I consider of cultural importance and significance. Over the years, my focus has shifted from individual works to the artistic message and mission of the artist as expressed in their body of work as a whole.

Of course, it is all purely subjective, sometimes triggered by the spark of a moment. It can be a fluffy happy bubble to indulge in for a second or a profound, highly intellectually demanding, critical abyss that leaves us disillusioned. The combination of these elements continuously sharpens my intellectual understanding of life’s challenges and deepens my knowledge of myself and the world around me. It can at times be disillusioning and saddening as well, but this is what I cherish deeply in art.

Christine Würfel-Stauss’s son with work by Marianna Simnett and Jeppe Hein. Photo Max von Treu

You are active in the fashion and art worlds. Do you feel more at home in one or the other?

I consider fashion, as far as the creative process is concerned, an artistic practice that aims to make culturally relevant statements. It incorporates highly sophisticated processes of creation. In that way, creating in the world of discerning fashion and the process of dressing, when used as a means of self-expression, is a form of art that intersects with other modes of creative practices. And always has. For example, sartorial choices have already been of paramount importance in ancient iconography, in which they often carried cues for the moral character of those who wore them.

Despite all of the elements that the traditional fine arts and fashion share, one has to keep in mind that artworks may travel in time purely for their intellectual or aesthetic content, while fashion serves a practical purpose and is continuously renewed to meet commercial and societal needs. But even so, the artistic approach to the creation process of fashion and the influence of art on fashion adds a paramount layer; it can foster more places for creativity and cultural exposure.

Christine Würfel-Stauss at Paris Fashion Week in fall 2024. Photo: Christian Vierig/Getty Images

And now collaborations between contemporary artists and fashion brands are more prevalent than ever before, which helps to bring artistic visions to a wide audience. Just a few months ago, Kim Jones filled the set for his new menswear collection for Dior with large versions of Hylton Nel‘s distinct cat sculptures and counted him for much of the inspiration towards this new collection. Hylton is a ceramicist from South Africa who is in his eighties and whose work I have been following for years. We have some ceramic pieces of him on our dining table and to see his work getting such a widely visible stage and new context was a special moment of joy for me. Art and fashion are interwoven, synergistic creative practices on so many levels and I enjoy engaging with them both.

Painting by Robert Nava. Photo Max von Treu

Where do you buy art most frequently and why?

Most artworks I buy from galleries that I have a trusting and longstanding relationship with and whose program I love. I always try to engage actively in their cultural cosmos and to know most of their artists personally, attending exhibition openings, symposia, and special projects whenever possible. Having this full scope gives me a much deeper understanding of the artistic messages and opens the path to a better appreciation of the artwork itself.

I very much like how tightly some galleries are interconnected with cultural institutions, establishing their program within today’s cultural canon and fostering a wider, public interaction with important cultural messages. The Berlin-based gallery Société, for example, worked closely with the museum Hamburger Bahnhof in Berlin to realize an important, intense body of work by Marianna Simnett that was shown at the museum accompanying the European soccer championship this year. Works resulting from a project like this have a special cultural impact in my view as they are parts of a greater, multi-leveled piece.

Interior view with work by Conny Maier. Photo Max von Treu

Do you buy work at fairs or auctions?

I rarely buy art at a fair; either I have bought a work from the gallery’s fair preview beforehand, or if it is a gallery that I have not acquired something from before, the interesting pieces I see at their booth have mostly already been pre-sold. I might stay in touch with that gallery beyond the fair if a work really catches my eye, hoping I can find another good work by that artist sometime in the future.

With auctions, I try to follow the major auctions and all auctions of works by artists whose works I particularly like so that I always have an overview of what the market and current pricing. Occasionally, I buy a work at an auction, but that is only when it is a more historic work or when the pricing differs significantly from the primary market.

Painting by Huma Bhabha. Photo Trenity White

What was your last purchase?

It was a sculptural work by Carsten Höller, which was offered secondary market. It is a sphere equipped with lights that oscillate in a frequency that is supposed to trigger the activation of certain brain functions. The piece unbalances the rational mind and learned behaviors, making the viewer’s organic response to light emissions a component of the work itself. I first saw this work at a gallery show way back and long before starting to purchase art.

When the sphere became available for a reasonable price, I bought it not foreseeing the logistical challenges I would run into due to the scale and weight of the piece. The work came in a large crate weighing almost one ton. When everything was finally lined up for the pickup a hurricane hit the storage facility in the U.S. where the crate had to be picked up. The ground became so unstable from all the rain that the forklift got stuck under the weight. Days later, when the crate was finally loaded, the truck transported the piece through heavy weather for several days until it arrived at the art storage facility. However, the crate was just millimeters too large to fit through the entrance. An alternative space had to be found quickly, as the crate was blocking access to the entire storage area—an unexpectedly challenging task. Once installed, the piece will have plenty of stories to tell.

Paintings by Yohei Yama (left) and Nobert Bisky (right). Photo by Max von Treu

What art events are on your calendar this season?

The fair and exhibition calendar has become so busy that it is increasingly difficult for me to attend everything I would love to. I always try to see most of the major art fairs, especially Art Basel in Basel and Paris, Frieze London, and sometimes TEFAF, and usually at least a few of the smaller fairs to have a somewhat comprehensive overview of the current offerings. For the remainder of this year, I will be focusing on seeing non-commercial art exhibits and sites.

I traveled to Japan with my family this month to explore artistic sites and exhibitions that we either had not yet visited or would like to show our two little boys now. Among the destinations I was most looking forward to are the islands of Naoshima and Teshima, which have been transformed from a post-industrial history into art-filled wonderlands that I have been wanting to see for years. The Teshima Art Museum, with its work by Rei Naito, is something I have been reading a lot about and it has been one of the art venues in the world I was longing to see. We continued to Kyoto and Tokyo to see historic sites as well as different contemporary art projects, including a show by Lucas Arruda at an ancient Buddhist Zen temple in Kyoto, which is usually not open to the public, and the Louise Bourgeois retrospective at the Mori Museum.

Another cultural event on my calendar this fall was Ballroom Marfa‘s 20th Anniversary Gala in New York. I went on a road trip last year by myself to finally explore Marfa and all the artistic sites there. My days along the way were so exhilarating and so inspiring that I will definitely visit again, ideally with my husband and our boys. The genius brains behind Ballroom are Virginia Lebermann and Fairfax Dorn who founded the museum to create an institution to foster free artistic expression across various disciplines. I know them and admire their unwavering dedication to enabling some of the most exciting art projects over the past two decades. The event in NYC celebrates this and its exciting future ahead. It is also a wonderful international community of friends that has formed around Ballroom.

View of a sculpture Bunny Roger. Photo Max von Treu

Is there an artwork you regret not purchasing?

Yes, it is Rebecca Horn’s Butterfly Machine from 1989 which was auctioned in July at Christie’s in New York. The kinetic, mechanical sculptures she has been creating throughout her career have always been some of my favorite sculptural pieces. They profoundly capture the intricate relationship between natural phenomena and the man-made world. In particular, the pieces where she combines elements of fragile beauty with the raw roughness of metallic mechanics are utterly brilliant and hold significant importance in art history. Butterfly Machine was reasonably priced and the auction slipped my attention. It would have been my dream piece by Rebecca Horn.

I have been admiring Horn’s work since I was a child when I first saw one of her giant installations at the Documenta in Kassel. It was the moment my passion for the arts started and I have admired Horn’s brain power and artistic forcefulness ever since that day when I walked into her classroom piece as a child in Kassel. All the furniture, desks, chairs, chalkboard had been mounted upside down to the ceiling. From each chair a long, thick metallic tube was winding down through the classroom, forming a bundle with all the metal tubes from the other empty kids‘ chairs which then made its way out one of the classroom window and several floors down the wall of the building to the ground. Along each tube blue ink was dripping, originating from each kids‘ chair.

Displaying this work after German reunification, at a time when personal and collective freedom were central themes in society’s reflection—particularly in the Kassel area, so close to the former inner German border—gave the piece an unforgettable impact. Its sheer scale further amplified its significance, leaving a lasting impression. I have been thinking about this lately again a lot as Rebecca Horn passed away recently.

Sculpture by Alicja Kwade. Photo Max von Treu

Which artists are you hoping to add to your collection this year?

In addition to a mechanical sculpture by Rebecca Horn, I would love to own one of Jason Fox’s brilliant watercolor works. I particularly admire his pieces where recognizable figures are layered translucently on the canvas, creating sharp, thought-provoking statements of political or cultural significance. These works are intellectually demanding, inviting deep reflection on motivations that go beyond a common understanding of societal and political engagement. They are also executed with masterful skill.

As for a more historic piece, I would love a mountain scene by Gabriele Münter depicting the landscape around Murnau, south of Munich. It’s an area where my husband and I spent much time when we first met, and we cherished visiting the Münter Museum located there.

How do you incorporate art into the home?

This is always a very intensive process. The pieces at home have to evoke an optimistic spirit or have a calming sense of contemplation about human values. They should be by an artist I like a lot on a personal level and form a harmonious whole with the interior. As beautiful as it is to have as many artworks in sight, it is more important that nothing appears overloaded. But most importantly, the interior needs to stay airy and light, and so I would rather alternate works than compromise on that.

Work by Turi Simeti. Photo by Max von Treu

What do you have hanging in your bathroom?

We have art in most rooms of our home, including some of the more unconventional spaces for displaying art, such as the bathrooms. One piece I particularly love is by Elladj Lincy Deloumeaux, displayed in a guest bathroom. It depicts a sleeping man being comforted in the lap of an unidentifiable figure. The materiality of the painting is especially mesmerizing—Elladj mixed the paint with sand from the area where he found the subject for the work. This subtle surface texture brings the motif to life, making it feel vivid and almost tangible.

Next to it is a work by Lydia Pettit, which depicts the midsection of a woman pulling at the edges of her shirt and underwear, exposing some skin. The piece is special and sensitive. I appreciate how both works convey moments of comfort in private, intimate settings, complementing the guest bathroom’s overall color scheme and atmosphere.

I also recently acquired an earlier work by Tracey Emin, which portrays two lovers intertwined. I plan to place it in my own bathroom, the most private space in the house, where the work’s profound intimacy can be truly appreciated.

View of painting by Elladj Lincy Deloumeaux. Photo Max von Treu

What about in your living room?

Above the sofa in the living room, in the U.S., we have a work by Conny Maier. It’s called Fun, and it is an earlier work in which one of her emblematic, distorted figurines interacts with a winding bamboo-like plant. Ever since I came across one of Conny’s first shows years ago in Seoul, I have loved her expressive style and her way of challenging the viewer’s perception of proportions. And I like her a lot as a person. In our living room in Germany, we have a bright, happy work by the Japanese artist Ayako Rokkaku by the seating area. It is a dream landscape of amorphous, fluffy elements, which sets a gleeful tone for the living area—a delightful escape from reality.

Also in this area of our home, we have a work by Thenjiwe Nikki Nkosi, which depicts a scene of a reward ceremony set in the historic context of sports competitions in muted purple and pink shades. It exudes relief, reward, gratitude, pride, and the appreciation of a single moment in time. It is a beautiful piece to be surrounded by daily, especially with kids.

Conny Maier Gigante (2023). Photo Sebastian Drüen

If you could steal one work of art without getting caught, what would it be?

It would be Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s Dance at Bougival, which is in the collection of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. This piece is so virtuosic in every aspect, but what makes it so unique is the sensual spark that radiates from this painting. The flush of the cheeks, the intimate proximity, the touch of the hands—it is almost possible to feel the swirl of the dancing motion. It always makes my heart skip a beat.

We used to live in Boston when I completed the dissertation for my PhD in law. During those years, we spent almost every weekend at one of the libraries in the Longwood area and would often walk to the MFA when we were done. Dance at Bougival was always my absolute favorite piece to see, and I still have a postcard of it from the museum store, which my husband sent me back then.