MONA - The new museum vernacular

I have heard all the hype for a while now, I’ve read the articles, I’ve endured all the work colleagues from across Australia visiting and speaking so highly of their experience, “It’s really different; there are no labels; you really should go and see it for yourself; what, you haven’t been yet? really?” Yes, I missed the very first version of Monanism, and have suffered great embarrassment, catching up with every work colleague back from professional duties/ visiting MONA since its opening in 2010. To be honest I also haven’t much been paying attention to others opinions which I realise on the plane into Hobart, I am a clean slate, ready to explore unhindered.

I arrived on Saturday afternoon back in January 2013 realising it was “market day” (every Saturday in summer).  To avoid the ferry passenger queue already at a complete standstill at the main museum entry, I decided to wander the grounds for an orientation of the site itself. I managed to get quite distracted for well over an hour, by the mini-festival up on the lawns. It was a relaxed atmosphere with people enjoying live music, laying about on beanbags and witty banter from a host being broadcast across the sound system, chatting to local providores at stalls around the perimeter, quality foods to sample and a charity lemon-aid stall run by children. I could have stayed longer, and as a local I would have enjoyed a day out, just for market day (and miss the gallery altogether).  The MONA foodfest certainly evoked the same relaxed and effortlessly sophisticated vibe that Hobart township was so good at showcasing.

Scattered beanbags in the aftermath of the festival

Fear of the dark

I finally arrived inside and quickly realised this casual sophistication I witnessed outside also translated to inside. Bubbly staff at the entrance ushered me to receive my O and explain the device was the labelling system. A very quick tutorial, and a glance at the galleries map (hard copy) and I was on my way. So far my journey was effortless, I was equipped and already intuitively flicking through screens familiarising myself with the IPod touch format. Descending in the glass lift I prepared myself, in the few moments of calm silence after the throngs of the crowd upstairs.

 

Stepping off into the void

 

Once in the lower void, the gigantic sandstone rock face escalated to what seemed 5 storeys above. It was stunning and had an immediate impact on everyone who entered. The scale of the Museum was revealed (in parts), hanging off the rock face – pinned lightly to it, to create the cavernous void. The sense of awe it created, was reminiscent of other great architectural features such the turbine hall of the Tate Modern in London. It was spectacular and daunting as I craned my head to see other visitors poking their heads over a wall above, pointing downward and across at something they could see, (and I could not) yet another floor or so above me. I started to get the sheer gravity of the exercise ahead of me and almost immediately went into a panicky head spin. Where do I start? How long will this take me? I’m running out of time to see it all! Julius Popp’s Bit. Fall is a perfect introduction to what lies beyond in the darkness, it is pop culture, provocative and a comment on our technology driven society. The one thing you learn about MONA is, they are not afraid of the dark, they are not afraid of going where other museums seem to be. 

 

Shrouded car - an invitation to peer through the heavy rope curtains

I took the advice of the attendant upstairs and went to the entrance of the new exhibition Theatre of the World.  I engaged with the O straight away and touched the update button to find an introduction audio from the curator. As I stood in the darkened threshold I viewed the display of random and unconnected objects and was invited by the narrator to look at the objects and reflect on the art of looking and ways of seeing. In fact this introduction was perfect for setting the scene for the tone of the whole museum. You had to have your eyes peeled to navigate the dark spaces but also an open mind for the installations ahead.

Room after room were iconic contemporary  and conceptual pieces juxtaposed with the historical (tribal dance masks, carved statues, coral specimens, Egyptian sarcophagus, ancient Greek and Roman coins, Neolithic flints and mortuary amulets). Every nook and cranny had surprises something up high, down low, around corners like a labyrinth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Darkness decending corridor

 

The IPod touch application was intuitive from the outset. Just hit the update button and wait for the works around you to upload, select the image relating to what you were viewing and find all the information. You could read basic data, listen to audio of interviews with the artists, read the Gonzo (David Walsh ramblings) and the whimsically termed “art wank” if you fancied something more traditionally ‘discursive’. The format was easy to navigate and convenient, just updating as you went along to select from the nearby works to explore on screen. It could also be flicked to landscape orientation for a more accessible font size and a slightly revised, more gestural scrolling interface much like viewing album covers in an ITunes library. But where was the map showing my location and where some of the routes ahead? I was lost in the dark – which way was out?

  

Fear of missing out

There was one frustrating part for me some way through the Theatre of the World: I just couldn’t at all find the data of the object in front of me. Instead I got other objects I had just viewed or others that didn’t resemble the piece at all, (or any in the vicinity).  Giving up after scrolling through the list of objects, I just ventured ahead. Turning a corner, it dawned on me that I may have been locating something, as the object seemed to be located on the other side of the gallery but in fact just behind a wall where I was standing moments before. This happened on a couple of other occasions where I couldn’t immediately find the object in the list of “nearby works”. As perplexing and slightly frustrating as it was at the time I quickly got absorbed in exploring more interviews, or random gonzo anecdotes, musings on the work or behind the scenes chit chat or the “art wank” button.

Art wank? Some might call it colloquial, but I found this labelling very refreshing, so much so, I read the room brochure from cover to cover, (with good deal of amusement). When was the last time anyone read a room brochure from cover to cover? I believe this casual and conversational tone does a fair amount to relax the visitor and create a more receptive ambience to engage with the content, particularly the difficult content. Standing by yourself looking at a photograph of a dog copulating with a man is no easy feat in a public situation, but standing with a stranger looking at said work does become slightly...awkward. But I found security in the O and in wearing the headphones a sense of displacement from others, which for me, helped overcome uncomfortable feelings while viewing confronting content with others.

There is fair amount of shock-value on the walls at MONA. They admit “there are all your favourites, and some stuff you totally effing hate”. MONA’s honesty here is likely backed up by the data captured by the O. In social media style the visitor is invited to Love or hate artefacts along their journey using the O. It was engaging enough to see the works I liked and how my vote stacked up against the majority.  Cute descriptors such as “621 other people have similar warm and fuzzy feelings about this object” is all entertaining enough but some of the statistics left me wanting to know more and to have the data quantified further. 621 out of how many? Just because it wasn’t captured on the O doesn’t mean it wasn’t liked by 1000 other visitors who saw it that day – or since it had been on display?

The content was generally a bit more lo-fi than I had expected (poor quality sound recordings of the interviews) but all worked together as a package. It all seemed really so effortless until I remembered the gallery host instructions “Simply upload your email address when cued by the system and your journey is saved. So why has it asked me four times to retype my email address? Have I got concurrent tours going at the same time? Inadvertently hitting the O return home button was a common error I made, out of habit using my IPhone which meant some waiting for it to reboot. Finally at the exit I asked the attendant to check I had signed out properly, and just as well I did as she explained “now your tour is saved”. At this point, I was slightly sceptical I would receive an email with my tour saved in one piece. Within 2 hours of arriving back to my hotel I checked my email account to no avail, leaving me with a deflated feeling, also confused how I could get such an intuitive simple system so wrong. I decided to go back the next day to get to the bottom of it...

Fear of falling

After checking my email on Sunday morning, lo and behold my MONA tour was there and in one neat tour. I had a new found respect for the O and felt slightly guilty I had decided to front up to MONA with a complaint about the technology. Once there, I took less time to navigate the system (and the galleries) and settled in to cruising around without such a huge agenda. Everything seemed far effortless than the day before. I couldn’t help but notice quite a few visitors abandoned the O device altogether. I even overheard one female explaining to a gallery attendant “it’s frustrating, I’m too focussed on using the thing and not looking at the art properly”. I couldn’t help agree my first day was a bit fatiguing taking in the ‘whole’ MONA experience, reading the small screen text, while also trying to take in the whole of the building and the art piece by piece.  I did have to remind myself to look where I was walking at times. There was a gentleman who’s partner had the device and was compelled to explain things as he pointed and commented – I don’t like this one, this is crap”. Walking on the same gentleman stated “WOW look at this, how amazing” The O is a device people could dip in and out of as the collection could certainly be appreciated in its own right.

That said, I couldn’t help but feel that visitors who weren’t using the O were missing half the fun. The Zizi the affectionate couch label explained if you patted and stroked the furry upholstery Zizi would respond. The purring and mews were interactivity at its best. As I was sitting another visitor joined for respite, without her O, she missed the surprise of the vibrating responses until I explained it was no ordinary gallery seating.

 Views through the layers of architecture, as if installations in themsleves

Most contemporary art galleries create similar experiences and environments, where the visitor enters a magical place and forgets about the daily humdrum and is truly absorbed in an ‘other-worldliness’. This sort of contemporary art experience can be enjoyed pretty much anywhere in the world depending on the curatorial programming. It isn’t unique to MONA. But, there is something... different, strangely compelling and truly exceptional about the place. What is it about MONA that creates this I believe it is the sheer single mindedness of David Walsh. He has created a new language, a casual, conversational tone that puts the visitor at ease with the highly sophisticated displays and allows meaningful engagement on a number of levels.

MONA creates an atmosphere which is astoundingly different and in your face (dark spaces, confronting art, offensive smells, disorienting walkways, poor quality audio interviews, indulgent bars and sloppy language, and loud music) and yet completely accessible. This new language, “the new museum vernacular” is a complex formula where, collection, curatorial direction, vocabulary, programming, technology and environment all come together so effortlessly in a seamless unison.

Fear of failing

Visiting MONA has highlighted to me that museums should take more of a leap of faith and give their audiences the benefit of the doubt, let them be afraid, explore on their own terms, don’t get too preoccupied with “interpreting” everything, and be relaxed and honest about what the museum is about. Why not be bold and try new approaches? Some people will get it and others won't... and that’s OK! With these principles, MONA goes a great way to democratise the experience, is inclusive and promotes inquiry, provokes responses and provides range of engagement. Funding permitting, other museums should be quick to follow a few examples from MONA and soon the world will be “monanised”.