Imagine a world where museums aren't just dusty halls of old artifacts, but vibrant hubs that spark life-altering sparks in the hearts of young dreamers—especially those from communities often overlooked. That's the bold vision driving Gus Casely-Hayford's ambitious project, V&A East, a fresh museum tailored for Generation Z and beyond. But here's where it gets intriguing: Can a single institution truly bridge the gap between tradition and inclusivity, or is this just another well-intentioned dream?
As a kid, Gus's older sister Margaret dragged him to the British Museum, a place that didn't always feel inviting. 'I was drawn to museums, but I didn't fully feel at home there,' he recalls, particularly because the exhibits rarely highlighted the narratives of Black British individuals like himself. Yet Margaret was unwavering. She insisted that these cultural spaces were meant for everyone, and if the stories weren't represented, it was up to people like him to rewrite them.
Fast-forward to today, and Gus is at the helm of V&A East as its director, crafting environments where young folks can stumble upon those pivotal experiences that shift their entire paths. These are lofty goals for an initiative spanning two locations in London's Olympic Park: the V&A Storehouse, which debuted in May and smashed its visitor goals in just a third of the expected time, and the V&A East Museum itself—a stunning five-story structure by Irish architects O’Donnell & Tuomey on Stratford Waterfront. The overarching objective, as articulated by V&A director Tristram Hunt, is to unlock the museum's treasures for groups that major cultural venues have historically neglected.
Despite setbacks like the pandemic, workforce shortages, and the sheer scale of erecting two intricate buildings, the museum doors will swing open to the public on April 18 next year. It's a cornerstone of East Bank, the mayor of London's £1.1 billion cultural and educational district aimed at revitalizing the post-Olympic areas—Hunt dubs it 'a vital piece of the 2012 Games' legacy.' Nestled alongside venues like Sadler’s Wells East, London College of Fashion, UCL East, and BBC Music Studios, V&A East received a substantial funding slice from the Department for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport, which Gus describes as 'remarkably generous.'
Gus comes across as approachable and upbeat, but it's his deep fervor for the arts that truly resonates. During our chat at the V&A Storehouse—amid a kaleidoscope of items from football jerseys and bicycles to vases crafted by nearby schoolkids—his drive shines through. He wants V&A East to be a nurturing haven for any young, artistic soul who might find the main V&A in South Kensington too intimidating yet has outgrown the Young V&A, designed for under-14s. East London, with its rich history of manufacturing and innovation, felt like the ideal spot; it's the birthplace of icons like Alexander McQueen and David Bailey. Gus is on a quest to unearth the next generation of such talents, positioning V&A East as their gateway to creativity. 'Many young people brim with imaginative fire, but museums don't always feel welcoming to them,' he notes. For beginners diving into this world, think of it as expanding the definition of 'museum' beyond static displays—now, it's a dynamic space where self-expression meets inspiration.
To make this happen, Gus has toured every secondary school in the surrounding four boroughs over the past five years, while the project team gathered input from around 30,000 youths, shaping everything from the core exhibits to staff attire—a burgundy waistcoat with a cinched back for personalization. The workforce mirrors the area's diverse makeup, emphasizing community integration. 'We've strived to root V&A East firmly in local neighborhoods,' Gus shares. 'This place is theirs, and the collections are ours collectively. It's uplifting to hear their voices echoing our goals in their own words.'
What can visitors expect? Hunt explains that they've reimagined the V&A's premier holdings through a modern perspective, tackling pressing themes like representation, identity, mental health, craftsmanship, and social equity. The permanent display, titled Why We Make, underscores a universal truth: 'Even before we speak or move, we create—it's a human instinct shared across cultures and eras,' Gus says. Featuring about 500 items from over 200 creators in more than 60 countries, it includes exquisite works like a ceramic piece by Ecuadorian Guinea Spanish artist Bisila Noah, a vibrant pink gown by local designer Molly Goddard, and fabrics from postwar Trinidadian innovator Althea McNish. These selections weave tales of global artistry across the V&A's specialties. And V&A East won't apologize for its diversity: 'National museums thrive on varied intellectual roots, so why not aim for the broadest, most inclusive audiences possible?' Gus questions.
Temporary shows add to the excitement, starting with The Music Is Black, a deep dive into 125 years of Black British music—from calypso and reggae to hip-hop and drill. Gus keeps mum on specifics, but expect nods to luminaries like Seal, Shirley Bassey, Stormzy, and Little Simz, plus Joan Armatrading's first guitar, a personal inspiration for him.
Yet, amid all this optimism, tough challenges loom for museums. Gus has championed the repatriation of stolen artifacts, proud of the V&A's efforts, including loans to Ghana's Manhyia Palace Museum. 'We're constrained by laws, so returns are often as loans, but it's progress,' he affirms. On funding ethics—where corporate sponsors help foot bills for temporary exhibitions—some insiders call critics 'pessimistic naysayers.' Gus acknowledges the concern: 'It's a big deal for everyone in this field, and we'd be meticulous about any partners, ensuring they're aligned with our values.' And this is the part most people miss: Is accepting money from ethically questionable firms a necessary evil for keeping culture alive, or does it compromise a museum's soul?
Gus hails from the illustrious Casely-Hayford clan, with roots in Ghanaian-British history tracing back to 19th-century statesman and writer JE Casely-Hayford, a champion of pan-African unity. His Ghanaian dad, Victor, was a lawyer turned accountant, while his Sierra Leonean mom, Ransolina, worked for the British Council—both immigrants adapting to new shores. His siblings excelled: Margaret as Coventry University's chancellor, Peter as a BBC Panorama executive producer, and the late Joe, a trailblazing fashion designer spotlighted in Somerset House's 2023 show on Black fashion. Gus gets choked up recalling Joe: 'He was my hero. I cherish the old art books he gave me—they're like treasures from him.'
His journey spans presenting BBC's Lost Kingdoms of Africa, writing on West African art, and leading the Smithsonian's National Museum of African Art in Washington DC (where he laments the political pressures on colleagues). His museum entry began post-PhD from SOAS, joining the British Museum's education team—the very spot where Margaret planted the seed of change. There, he orchestrated Africa 05, Britain's biggest African arts festival, uniting 150 institutions to celebrate the continent. It disrupted norms: 'Museums preserve history, but too often, they get stuck in it,' he observes. The lesson? 'Improbable changes are achievable.'
V&A East tops his achievements, realizing his dream of democratizing these 'spaces for everyone' through humanity's greatest creations. 'Art lets us connect emotionally, beyond mere thought,' he muses. 'Museums safeguard our finest creative drives.' For those skeptical about museums evolving, consider this: In a divided world, can cultural institutions truly foster unity without repeating past exclusions?
What do you think? Does V&A East represent a genuine leap toward inclusive art, or is it just window-dressing? Share your views in the comments—do you agree with Gus on repatriation and funding dilemmas, or do you see counterpoints we've overlooked? Let's discuss!
