Notes From an Exhibition

MoMA's Pirouette read entirely from its published record: press release, viewing checklist and object files. What the framing claims, and where the objects do not support it.

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Keon Hwui Kim

Keon Hwui Kim

Object number 597.2017 in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art is a pair of shapewear shorts. The record gives the maker as "Spanx, est. 2000; Sara Blakely", the object as an "OnCore" high-waisted mid-thigh short, the date as 2017, the medium as nylon and spandex, and the credit line as the Items Exhibition Fund. Every one of those fields is doing work, and one of them quietly undermines the story the object was later asked to tell.

I did not see Pirouette: Turning Points in Design. I was not in the Philip Johnson Galleries at any point during its run, and nothing below is a report from the room. What follows is a reading of the documentation a large museum publishes about itself: the exhibition page, the press release, the viewing checklist, the collection records, and one review written by someone who was at the preview. That is a narrower thing than a visit, and it has one advantage over a visit. The wall text and the object record are both written by the same institution, and they do not say the same thing.

What the show was, according to its own paperwork

Pirouette: Turning Points in Design was organised by Paola Antonelli, Senior Curator in the Department of Architecture and Design and Director of Research and Development, with Maya Ellerkmann, Curatorial Assistant. MoMA's exhibition page gives the dates as 26 January to 15 November 2025 and the location as Floor 3, 3 North, The Philip Johnson Galleries.

The press release announcing the show, dated 16 September 2024, gives a different closing date: "on view from January 26, 2025 to October 18, 2025". So the exhibition ran about four weeks longer than announced. That is an ordinary institutional fact and not a scandal, but it is the first place where two MoMA documents disagree, and it is worth noticing early, because they disagree about other things too.

They disagree about size. The press release says the show includes "Over 100 Works from MoMA's Collection". Writing in Architectural Record on 27 January 2025, Ian Volner put it at "roughly 125 pieces". I have not found a published figure that both documents agree on, and the viewing checklist is not paginated in a way that lets me count reliably from the text I could extract. If you want a number for Pirouette, the honest answer is somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and thirty, and the institution itself never committed to one.

The entrance hall of a gallery, about 1916

A gallery entrance hall, about 1916. No known restrictions, Tyne and Wear Archives and Museums, via Wikimedia Commons.

The claim on the wall

MoMA's own description of the exhibition opens with a sentence that is also, according to Volner, the gallery prologue:

Design is a fundamental element of life, an enzyme necessary to our evolution.

The description closes by saying that the objects, seen together, "highlight the role of designers at their most inventive and constructive, and demonstrate the power of design to translate human experience into tangible forms and envision a better future". In between, it names the mechanism: the objects "had a deep impact both on design and the world at large".

Volner reports that Antonelli, speaking at the preview, said: "I didn't want to preach. I want each work to stand by itself." He describes a gallery in which the pieces sit "in discrete enclosures, most of them hidden in a warren of crimson veils", with the public "invited to guess for themselves how each item represents 'an enzyme necessary to our evolution', as the show's prologue puts it". He calls the approach "pleasantly Montessorian" and also flags it as "a potential weakness".

I want to take the curatorial claim seriously rather than sneer at it, because it is a real claim with a real mechanism inside it. It says: these objects changed the world; here they are; the change is legible in the thing. That is a strong empirical position for a museum to take. It is also the position the object records do not support.

Reading the checklist instead of the wall

Here is something I got wrong before I started. I assumed the viewing checklist would reveal the exhibition's thematic sections, because a show about turning points must presumably group its turning points somehow. It does not. The checklist is ordered alphabetically by designer surname and carries no section headings at all. Entries run in the museum's standard format:

Milton Glaser
I heart NY concept sketch, 1976
Ink and tape on paper envelope
2 7/8 x 3 5/8" (7.3 x 9.2 cm)
Gift of the designer Marcel Wanders
Knotted Chair, 1995
Carbon and epoxy-coated aramid fibers
28 x 19 3/4 x 24 1/2" (71.1 x 50.2 x 62.2 cm)
Gift of the Peter Norton Family Foundation
Milton Glaser
I heart NY concept sketch, 1976
Ink and tape on paper envelope
2 7/8 x 3 5/8" (7.3 x 9.2 cm)
Gift of the designer Marcel Wanders
Knotted Chair, 1995
Carbon and epoxy-coated aramid fibers
28 x 19 3/4 x 24 1/2" (71.1 x 50.2 x 62.2 cm)
Gift of the Peter Norton Family Foundation
Milton Glaser
I heart NY concept sketch, 1976
Ink and tape on paper envelope
2 7/8 x 3 5/8" (7.3 x 9.2 cm)
Gift of the designer Marcel Wanders
Knotted Chair, 1995
Carbon and epoxy-coated aramid fibers
28 x 19 3/4 x 24 1/2" (71.1 x 50.2 x 62.2 cm)
Gift of the Peter Norton Family Foundation

An alphabetical checklist for a thematic show is a small but real problem for anyone trying to reconstruct the argument from the record. It means the intellectual structure of Pirouette lived in the room, in the sequence of crimson enclosures, and did not survive into the document. If you missed the show, you cannot recover its reasoning. You can only recover its contents.

So contents are what I looked at.

What the credit lines show

A credit line is the least romantic field in a museum record and the most informative. It says who paid, and when, and under what programme. Put four of Pirouette's better-known objects side by side and a pattern appears that the wall text does not mention.

Object

Object date

Accession number

Credit line

Milton Glaser, I heart NY concept sketch

1976

388.2009

Gift of the designer

Tim Ferguson Sauder, Brian Glenney, Sara Hendren, Accessible Icon

2009 to 2011

1175.2013

Gift of the designers

Spanx, Sara Blakely, "OnCore" high-waisted mid-thigh short

2017

597.2017

Items Exhibition Fund

Telfar Clemens, Shopping Bag

2016

177.2024

Committee on Architecture and Design Funds

Read the accession numbers as dates, because that is what the digits after the full stop are. The Glaser sketch entered the collection in 2009, thirty-three years after it was drawn. The Accessible Icon arrived in 2013. The Spanx short arrived in 2017. The Telfar bag arrived in 2024, the same year the exhibition was announced.

Now look at the Spanx entry again. The wall text names Spanx as one of the two objects that stand for the whole show: "from Post-Its to Spanx". Blakely founded the company in 2000. That is the turning point. The garment on the mannequin is from 2017. It is a later product from the same company, bought on the Items Exhibition Fund, which is to say it was acquired for Items: Is Fashion Modern?, the 111-garment show Antonelli organised with Michelle Millar Fisher that ran from 1 October 2017 to 28 January 2018.

So the object standing for a turning point in 2000 is a production sample from seventeen years after the turning point, acquired for a different exhibition, by the same curator. It is a perfectly reasonable acquisition. It is not evidence of the thing the label says it is evidence of. It is a stand-in.

The museum cannot hold the thing that did the work

This is the structural point, and I think it is the most interesting thing Pirouette accidentally demonstrates.

Take the Accessible Icon, accession 1175.2013, credited to Tim Ferguson Sauder, Brian Glenney and Sara Hendren, dated 2009 to 2011. Its medium, in MoMA's own record, is "Digital image". MoMA's curatorial text describes the project accurately: the designers redesigned the International Symbol of Access, originally drawn by Susanne Koefoed in 1968, and "deployed their redesign through street art, applying transparent stickers over existing accessibility signs in Boston", after which it was taken up by hundreds of institutions and municipalities including New York City.

Everything that made the Accessible Icon a turning point happened in the sticker campaign and the adoption that followed. None of that is a digital image. The museum owns the file. The world was changed by thousands of painted parking bays, municipal sign procurement decisions and a long argument about whether a symbol should show a person in motion. A collection can hold the file. It cannot hold the argument, and it cannot hold the procurement.

The same applies to the Glaser sketch, accession 388.2009. It is ink and tape on a paper envelope, 2 7/8 by 3 5/8 inches. It is smaller than a credit card holder. What changed New York's self-image between 1976 and today was a state tourism campaign, a licensing programme and forty-odd years of counterfeit t-shirts. The museum owns the envelope. The envelope is genuinely moving to look at, and it proves almost nothing about impact.

The Telfar Shopping Bag, accession 177.2024, is the one case where the record is more interesting than the label. MoMA's own curatorial text explains the brand's pricing mechanism: items start at wholesale cost, rise with demand toward the recommended retail price, or stay permanently discounted if they sell out first. That is the actual design work. The faux-leather bag in the vitrine is the visible residue of a pricing system, and a pricing system is not collectible. The record describes it because a text field can. The object cannot show it.

Where the show is right, and where I think the framing fails

Antonelli's refusal to preach is defensible. A show that asserted, object by object, exactly how each one changed history would be making claims it could not support, and the absence of a thesis is more honest than a weak one. Volner is right that the openness is daring. I think he is also right that it is a weakness, but not for the reason he gives. The problem is not that visitors will fail to work out where the curator is headed. The problem is that the prologue already told them: design is "an enzyme necessary to our evolution", the objects "had a deep impact", the show demonstrates "the power of design". The thesis is stated at the door and then withheld at every label. That is not Montessori. That is an assertion with the evidence removed.

What the objects actually show, taken together with their records, is a different and better argument: that design's effects are mostly systemic, mostly invisible, and mostly not resident in the artefact. A shapewear company's effect lives in the category it created. An accessibility symbol's effect lives in sign contracts. A tote bag's effect lives in a pricing algorithm. A tourism logo's effect lives in licensing. A museum of design, doing its job well, ends up with an accidental proof that objects are the least important part of design.

The phrase "turning points" is where the two stories collide. A turning point is a claim about causation. A collection is a record of ownership. Pirouette presented the second and labelled it the first.

What I could not check

Several things, and I would rather list them than paper over them.

I do not know the exhibition's internal sequence. The checklist is alphabetical, the press release names objects without grouping them, and I have no floor plan. Volner's description of "discrete enclosures" in a "warren of crimson veils" is the only account of the spatial argument I have, and it comes from one visit on one day.

I do not know the object count, as set out above. I do not know whether individual labels in the gallery made narrower and better-supported claims than the prologue did; museum labels are rarely published, and none of the documents I fetched reproduce them. It is entirely possible that the Spanx label named 2000 as the founding date and 2017 as the garment's date, which would dissolve most of my complaint about that object. I could not confirm it either way.

I also cannot confirm the taxi. MoMA's record for the Glaser sketch states that he "sketched the iconic logo on a taxi ride", drawing on "carvings in tree trunks where the initials of lovers were combined with a heart". That is the museum repeating a story Glaser told for decades. The physical evidence, ink and tape on a small paper envelope, is consistent with it and does not establish it. I am not saying it is false. I am saying that a collection record is not a primary source for an anecdote about 1976, and that museums quote anecdotes in the same typeface they use for dimensions.

The useful habit, if you go to design exhibitions, is to read the label twice: once as the museum intends, and once for the accession number. The first tells you what the institution wants the object to mean. The second tells you when the institution decided it meant that.

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