Museum of Broken Relationships

Ever had a broken heart? Own an object that won’t let you forget? This is your opportunity to give it a perfect new home. Brokenships collection is everyman’s museum safeguarding the mementos of our once grand loves. It is a chance to every broken...

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A simple watch.. 2015-2018. | Mich. México

We live in different states and kept with the relationship for more than 70% of the time. Because of this.. we saw each other only every weekend with luck, 2 weeks with not so much luck.. It was a gift for my birthday, the first birthday we spent together..

She gave it to me inside a small purple box with a short but heartbreaking, clever and meaning message..

It said ‘I love spending time with you, so Lets make every second count’..

Next to that.. she showed me that she bought another watch exactly like mine.. so we would be thinking about each other every time we looked for the Time..

We would be connected trough time…

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A simple watch.. 2015-2018. | Mich. México We live in different states and kept with the relationship for more than 70% of the time. Because of this.. we saw each other only every weekend with luck, 2 weeks with not so much luck.. It was a gift for my birthday, the first birthday we spent together.. She gave it to me inside a small purple box with a short but heartbreaking, clever and meaning message.. It said 'I love spending time with you, so Lets make every second count'.. Next to that.. she showed me that she bought another watch exactly like mine.. so we would be thinking about each other every time we looked for the Time.. We would be connected trough time...

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A tape recorded for me by my ex-girlfriend April 2010 — August 2011 | Zagreb, Croatia

If we ignore the fact that she was six years younger and underage (16 when I was 22), she was everything I’d always wished for. Despite the reign of terror carried out by her parents, who probably (although not openly) considered me a villain that exploited gullible teenage maidens, we were doing great. I felt that we were meant to be together until the end of time or something like that. I also thought... okay, bring out the cheese dish now, that she was “The One”. Back then she made me this mix tape, which was really sweet of her. So, fast forward to the bad part, one day she decided to dump me for another guy, something I never saw coming. Needless to say, I suffered greatly and intensely. Although I’m not drama-prone and have since gotten over her, I’ve developed some commitment issues that are still giving me a hard time. When we were breaking up, I jokingly told her that I’d donate the mix tape to the Museum of Broken Relationships to ease the pain. A year and a half later, that mediocre joke becomes reality. By the way, I’ve never actually listened to the tape as I don’t own a functional tape player.

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A piece of artwork I made in response to what happened... difficult to pin down... summer 2007...  July 2007 | Penryn, Cornwall, UK

When I look back and revisit the past, there were moments of epiphany when I knew things were never going to be the same. Meeting Shev was one of those moments - he taught me all that's good about love. And I was watching the madness slowly consume him. The mania slowly crept up on him and was accompanied by newly found delusions of grandeur. It took about a month. The lucid moments became fewer and fewer, and it was like watching a long, slow, torturous, painful death. He felt it coming, 'Sach, I know something's happening to me I just don't know what, but whatever happens, please remember I love you'. As his shadow-self emerged, his voice changed; and as his voice changed, the mania intensified; and as the mania intensified, he became sleep deprived; and soon he was caught in a loop tearing round Delhi trying to get it on with every woman who smiled at him for he was suddenly God’s Gift Incarnate. His most precious books along with my letters were torn up and scattered around the city that never sleeps. Sacrificial offerings to Shiva, the God of Death, Destruction and Reincarnation. When he was finally brought round three weeks later, all that remained was a cold, closed heart barely beating, running on lithium 'questions of science; science and progress do not speak as loud as my heart tell me you love me come back and haunt me oh, and I rush to the start' It's been five years and one month since Shev flew out of his burning bed to dance with Shiva’s dead. There's not much left to remind me of us: one letter, a mug, a small picture of a naïve, or perhaps the word is native, dancing man, his Grandmother’s shawl, a handful of photographs, three silver bangles, Salman Rushdie's 'Haroun and the Sea of Stories' and four playlists, beaten with tears, scratched with wear and stuck on a loop. The second one we made together on my last night in India, 30th March 2007, and the last time I saw Shev. We called it 'A Moment a Minute aka Just Married'. That was just before I fell asleep whilst we watched Eternal Sunshine, our limbs effortlessly entwined. For months, no, probably years those songs served as a conduit to transport me back so I could remember because I was so scared that I may forget. Today, five years on, I know I'll never forget. The details have faded and lie dormant in my cells, but Shev often comes when I'm sleeping to that liminal dream space somewhere betwixt and between.

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A  Galileo thermometer Fiery 6 months + heart-breaking 4 months = 10 months | Taichung, Taiwan

A teenage crush on campus. Now I am writing it all down in remembrance of the  pure love.

At the time, I had an almost feverish imagination about what kind of a boy I would fall in love with, and I even listed all the criteria. He should:

 1. Be tall  2. Be tanned  3. Play music  4. Love post-rock  5. Especially love 'Explosions in the Sky'  6. Be able to cook (hopefully)

And I met him! He satisfied all the criteria I had listed above, even the  sixth! As luck would have it, this boy, my Prince Charming, also fell in love  with me. We started our whirlwind romance. Like any girl in love, I felt like  the luckiest girl in the world. This passionate love lasted about six months.  One day I suddenly realized that a criteria-fulfilling boy might not  necessarily be a considerate and tolerant lover. He might not understand you.  He even gave me a Galileo thermometer, wrapped in a crushed paper box, as my  birthday gift. WTF! Could that be the kind of birthday gift a 20-year-old  girl would expect?! So we broke up. From that day on I have never made  another list.  

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A  little rubber piggy Feb 2012 — Jan 2013 | Jerusalem, Israel

He gave me this piggy when we met on student exchange in the US. It was just a joke over how much he loves bacon and me never wanting to taste it as my heritage forbids it. Many evenings we spent together at home drinking some wine and cooking dinner. Loving and annoying each other. What goes first in the pan?! Enriching each other with family memories and favourite foods. How different our habits and clothes were, how different our food from Israel to Denmark. And yet we are so much the same. We loved each other purely and deeply, we loved our differences and we both knew that was part of our charm. Imagining our children was like imagining how it would feel to win the lottery. But for me it was too hard to change my path, to hurt my parents who only wished for me to be happy, with a Jewish boy. I made the wrong decision; one that was not fully and consciously my own. Here I am standing, 27 years old, like a toddler learning to walk, I’m learning I can make my own decisions in life, fully... Only now do I know, falling in love has changed my destiny and for this I am grateful. Maybe I evolved too late for this wonderful, wonderful person but I know it’s never too late to change. I’m giving you a glimpse at my piggy and a taste of our story, hoping we will all have the courage to consciously make our own decisions and the will to stand behind them. I will always follow my heart!

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New Yorker 2007 – 2012 | Cambridge, UK

She wrote an advertisement for a think-tank: 'wanted: thinking people'; I felt someone was calling me. During the opening lecture she was the only one daring to ask a question. I looked at her; she turned around and saw me looking. Her smile was cute, mischievous, with a grey tooth. We were too clever to be fooled by small talk. On our first date she entered my tiny house with a pink jumper and mud on her boots. 'So what should I do?' she asked. Sarcastically, I suggested my new silk carpet, so she did, without a second thought. That was her, never apologetic, with lots of energy and wit. We did not leave the house for three days. I think the entire city knew her, she did everything from establishing an NGO to editing a magazine, she knew PMs and ministers. A few months after we met she joined as a desk helper in a major news corporation - soon afterwards she was leading their team as a chief producer covering a war while I was fighting it. I got an offer from a university abroad and she agreed to join. When we left the country, she cried a lot. It was like seeing a newborn leaving its mother's womb. She looked lost and it was only me. She introduced me to the world. In New York she showed me the museums, the restaurants and the New Yorker. I, on the other hand, taught her how to hug, but it was like catching a flame, you can only pretend it is yours. Together we flourished and with her I realized my passion for intellect and the absolute need for it. I'm reading the New Yorker now. The thought that somewhere in Delhi, Nairobi or London we share one more incredible piece of information makes me smile. I sent the last issue we shared.

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I have a small box of items I collected over the span of our almost 3 year relationship (9/2/13 - 3/17/16 in Los Angeles, to Crescent City, then back to Los Angeles).  It has a bow from a vase of flowers, a jewelry box with a flower from every bouquet he ever gave me, dried out, a bear, a heart from a gift box set, a necklace pouch and box, cards with sweet messages (and broken promises), balloons and a framed poem he wrote and gave me as a Valentine's present.  After three years he claimed that the stress of my daily life was too much.  But he was aware of everything from my two children to my emotional past from day one.  So it was devastating and unexpected, I thought he was my forever, yet I can't bring myself to throw away these things that are from such a sweet and loving time.  I'm still trying to understand how the written words lost their meaning to him in such a short time.  Please rehome my heartbreak.  <3

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These are 2 pieces of artwork which were created by my ex-girlfriend. They reflect many aspects of our special relationship and one picture in particular our first new years eve in Budapest. These young lady had her own painful issues to work through from the start of our relationship but helped me through my own and I was convinced after 2 years of bliss that she was my soulmate. Although aware of her issues I really believed I could be the man to help her break the cycle of despair she seemed to have been accustomed to, unfortunately ultimately her own insecurities, lies and betrayal of us led me to end the relationship to sustain my own well being. I now suspect that she suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder, looking back there were so many red-flags. However, 4 months of no contact still leaves me wondering how someone, who was so amazing and perfect could simply change into someone else. When I look at these pictures it reflects a time when she was in her idolization stage -  She and I were blissfully happy and she made me feel like I was on cloud nine - she was the perfect girlfriend.  The sheer detail and thoughtfulness behind the work still leaves me breathless - but I cannot keep these pieces as they remind me of pain I have been and will be going through. It seemed crass to simply destroy them or throw them away so your museum seemed the perfect destination. I hope you can find them a home.

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I remember every single phone call. I remember every word you said. I will always remember the love I had for you for the past 9 years, the love that was never reciprocated.

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Paper sailboat September 2006 — July 2008 | San Bernardino, California

Instead of finding the love that I wanted, my relationship was more of an addiction. So painful, but seemingly impossible to walk away from. This sailboat was made during one of the many nights when we couldn’t help but be together. We said goodbye many times before he finally left my life.

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A ceramic rolling pin From birth to 6 years (1981) | Bedford, UK

Maternal separation is a broken relationship and is different to some of the current exhibits in terms of partner relationships’ ending. However the feelings of loss, separation, grief, rejection and hurt are similar in many aspects. All the physical memories of my mother were burnt, discarded and buried. The most difficult part was that no one ever talked about her so I had nothing. I had a ceramic rolling pin which surprisingly missed the anger and emotional cleansing at that time. I kept it and it was wrapped carefully in each house move I had over the years. This was mine to hold on to, to remember the happy moments of being in the kitchen with mum as a small child making Gingerbread men. A powerful memory evoking the actual feelings and memories of the day, the smells in the kitchen, the smell of my mum, being included, feeling happy. In October 2010 I was reunited with my mum. I now feel able to move forward in my life, and donating the rolling pin means I do not have to cling to it any more. 'Let the good times roll!'

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Guitar strings 11 months | Amsterdam, the Netherlands

 A birthday present symbolising our relationship. 'No strings attached.'

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A stun gun March 2009 — July 2010 | Zagreb, Croatia

The stun gun travelled all the way from Buffalo to Zagreb with a mission to protect his 'little treasure' from the evil people while he was away. The love ended because my beloved got his planes and flights mixed up. Instead of boarding the plane which was supposed to take him to his daughters, he boarded the one that took him to a rich widow on the coast. To this day, the stun gun has never been used.

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My mum's personal belongings She died in 2006 | Warsaw, Poland

We were like sisters. I would often be the one accompanying my mum, not my dad. He was left out, I never learnt why.

She was there every second of my life. Wanted. And unwanted. It is very difficult to have an awareness of your relationship with your child when it’s your only child through necessity, not choice. And it is very difficult to constantly bear in mind the fact that your mother is ill, has always been ill, and that the illness will eventually win. The first tumour grew even before I was born. The last one came when I was 24. Twenty-five years of constant fight. We all fought. I will always be amazed by her strength, the will to live, to love and to be loved. But if I want to stay sane, come to terms with the fact that I am also genetically prone to cancer; if I wish to finally end my mourning and simply remember what was beautiful; if I want to live my life not hers, I need to let go. This is my letting go. The shoes - she liked them so much that she never wore them so as not to destroy them in any way. The dress - she was 18 when she made it herself; it fit her beautifully even for her 40th birthday party! The suit - she looked so sexy in it but was so afraid of that look. The purse - I found it only after she’d died; loved it, but still, it is hers, not mine. It has to stay that way. Mum, I am sure you found your freedom. Now I am claiming mine. For the sake of my husband and my children. For my dad. Goodbye. 

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A  postcard Yerevan, Armenia

I am a 70-year-old woman from Yerevan, the capital of Armenia. I visited Zagreb back in 1967 and the city is very close to my heart. When I found out from a local newspaper that there exists the Museum of Broken Relationships,  I was sad and happy at the same time.

This is a postcard that was inserted through the slit of my door a long time  ago by our neighbours’ son. He had been in love with me for three years.

Following the old Armenian tradition, his parents came to our home to ask for my hand. My parents refused saying that their son did not deserve me. They left angry and very disappointed. The same evening their son drove his car off a cliff...

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Little figurines to forget 2 years | Buenos Aires, Argentina

I am S.E.F. I am 20 years old and I was engaged for 2 years to the person who had at first been my best friend. The objects I want to get rid of, without any regret, represent my relationship very well. I have always been enchanted by little figurines of different materials and sizes. My ex, knowing this, used to make for me all kinds of paper figurines. But the one that was very precious to me at the time was the Legolas from the Third World, made of tin. However, all that glitters is not gold- and neither is tin. This is why I am so determined to get rid of everything that makes me remember a very bad relationship that had lasted a very long time. Goodbye little figurines, goodbye T-shirt, goodbye photographs and goodbye Alejo!