M-O-N-A, MONA

On a rainy day in Tassie (as its abbreviated round these parts), we ventured to the newly opened and slightly misguided Museum of Old and New Art in Berriedale. I'd read a feature story about the iPod touches provided for navigating the space being stripped of their security chips and ripped off by the dozen, so I was intrigued.

The MONA hasn't yet figured out what it wants to be. The extensive art collection sings back up for the on site winery, high end accommodation, brewery and collection of serviceable, if pretentious, dining establishments. The buildings themselves are modern and stark and quite a contrast to the rolling hills of farmland that surround.

One can opt to take a ferry to the MONA directly from Hobart, but we drove. Like an unpopular kid who doesn't expect guests at his party, the MONA is completely under-prepared for the number of visitors taking it up on its free admission. The parking lot was too small by a hundred spots, thus the surrounding grounds had been turned into a mud pit. The museum cafe cranked out food far faster than ample seating became available for the diners. Some of the exhibits themselves felt more like an elbow to elbow opening in Chelsea than like a fine art museum.

The reason I thought the MONA was blog worthy, though, was nothing to do with any of that. What's interesting is the founder's attempts to weave high techery and self mockery right into the experience. The author tags, work titles and descriptions can only be viewed by updating one's location on the iPod and choosing the piece from a thumbnail. Once there, a couple of other tabs become available; one titled “Art Wonk” that has a quote from the artist, a snoozy interview, or a theoretically charming anecdote about the acquisition of the piece. The other tab is titled “gonzo.” I'll let that one be.

The museum seems like the aspirational collection of one dude that needed storage. And this dude's tastes run to boobies, poops, humping, and dead stuff. There is an entire floor off limits to kids or requiring parental supervision. And while I'm not bothered by the inclusion of menstrual blood in art, it does seem like well trampled ground. Perhaps in Tasmania, where the small city art scene is still fetal, shock and awe is new.  Funnily, whether because of discomfort with the subject matter or just excitement about about the handy device they'd been leant, the majority of patrons seemed far more engaged by the iPods than by the cocks and balls and slashery on display. 

While Ed and I found the need to hold a device a distraction from enjoying the exhibits, the masses seemed to love it. We talked for a while afterwards about how technology could be employed to enhance the work rather than steal from it. We didn't arrive at a solution, but it was fun to test drive one art wonk's hypothesis, if only to decide that it failed. Perhaps its an Australian thing. 

One metal poop, smiling.  By Nell