Get Your Metrocard Here! Or, More Ways to Spend Money at MoMA

 









I refilled my Metrocard today … at MoMA.

A Metrocard vending machine is included in the exhibition Talk to Me, MoMA’s meditation on interactive design. Despite the exhibition’s theme, many of the objects on view can’t actually be handled; my 1990s brain prevented me from successfully engaging some of those that could. (Thankfully, the Menstruation Machine, 2010, is for display only … can the phrase ‘too much information’ apply to inanimate, if not inert, objects?) Signs tell viewers that they can enhance their experience of the exhibition by logging onto MoMA’s wifi with their phones; even my 2010 phone refused to cooperate. Then, I saw the Metrocard vending machine.

Once I determined that it was fully operational (if slightly modified—see the photos above), I took the opportunity, not to purchase one of the special-issue cards it dispenses, but to refill the card I’m currently using. Like most New Yorkers, I already have about six Metrocards in my wallet, each with $1.80 on it, or some other useless sum.

The experience was actually sort of great. I was lucky enough to be in the museum before it opened—a first, and a huge advantage (see The Museumgoer is, Against All Odds, Present). In fact, aside from the guards, I was alone at Talk to Me. I had only ever bought a Metrocard surrounded by harried commuters and clueless tourists. This was the cleanest machine I’d ever seen—none of the fingerprint-and-mystery-goo of your typical Metrocard vending machine. My credit card swipe was successful on the first try—another first. Mostly, though, it was a pleasure to interact with the machine without feeling rushed, without worrying about missing the next train. It gave me an opportunity to notice just how well-designed it is; it’s colorful and whimsical, like Mondrian’s Broadway Boogie Woogie (1942-43, in MoMA’s collection).

It’s also communicative, like the electronic billboard in the 1991 movie “L.A. Story," which dispensed life lessons along with the traffic conditions. If this object existed, it would have fit perfectly into Talk to Me. “L.A. Story” is an urban fairytale, however, and while many of the objects in the show are supremely innovative, they didn’t speak to me on an emotional level, as MoMA’s curators suggested they might.

Postscript:

I was a little disappointed that Edward Kienholz’s The Friendly Grey Computer—Star Gauge Model #54 (1965) wasn’t included in the show. This kinetic sculpture, which is owned by MoMA, purports to interact with viewers by answering their questions—yellow flashing lights indicate yes, blue lights indicate no. Of course, Kienholz’s attitude toward technology was ambivalent—the “machine” sits in a rocking chair and a text tells viewers that “Computers sometimes get fatigued and have nervous breakdowns, hence the chair for it to rest in.” This may more accurately reflect most people’s feelings about technology than the organizers of Talk to Me realize.