When turning a dinner party into art, I must acknowledge the role of ethics associated with hosting. Hosting is not neutral. The act of choosing who is invited, how the table is set, and what questions are asked all carry dynamics of power.
By creating a space where people from different industries and backgrounds can converge, I attempt to pave way for dialogue and intersections to flourish, but I must recognize that I shape the conditions in which these conversations take place. When curating guest lists, I assume responsibility: Who is allowed at the table and who is left outside? As I review possible attendees, I must consider the voices that will be privileged to attend and any perspectives that might go unheard.
My dinner events are not just about food. These dinners offer a setting in which conversation can be guided. As host, I have power to make decisions whether or not to intervene as guests make their way through posed questions. There is vulnerability associated with this position, as I am held responsible for establishing a space where participants feel safe enough to share, become vulnerable, and take social and conversational risks.
I think of Ai Weiwei’s Fairytale. While my dinner parties certainly do not confront the politics of inclusion on such a scale — the man brought over 1,000 people to a place that would otherwise not have been accessed — the principle is similar. My dinners emphasize participation. What is valuable is not just who attends but how their presence can change the fabric of the experience. As artist and host, I hold this tension of creating space while recognizing the limitations I have before, during, and after an event.
Hosting requires a humility, an awareness of constrains while demanding curiosity. With this knowledge, I seek to create without fixating on outcomes so that I might challenge norms and allow space for the unexpected to occur.
