May 2026

Before an exhibition opens, something else is already being made. Catalogs are designed, essays commissioned, flyers printed—and, at the Pinakothek, a booklet made for visitors to fill with stamps from 42 schools. By the time Munich Jewellery Week begins, a parallel world of printed matter has taken shape alongside it—and when the week winds down,

A head of lettuce in a hotel sink; a vitrine tipped on its side, spilling red, yellow, and black beads across the floor; 20 robotic vacuum cleaners carrying jewelry through a gallery, indifferent to the visitors trying to catch them. What does any of this have to do with how jewelry is displayed? Everything, argue

Schmuck—or Munich Jewellery Week, depending on who you ask—is a pilgrimage, a marketplace, a reunion, or a reckoning. Each year in March, Munich becomes a temporary capital of contemporary jewelry—a week when makers, gallerists, curators, collectors, and critics inhabit the same rooms, the same openings, the same conversations. The essays gathered here emerged from that