Sarah Forbes - Sex in the Museum: My Unlikely Career at New Yorks Most Provocative Museum

Sex
in the
Museum

SEX IN THE MUSEUM . Copyright 2016 by Sarah Forbes. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data (TK)

ISBN 978-1-250-04167-8 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4668-3857-4 (e-book)

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First Edition: April 2015

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For Forbedo, Kai, Zia, K. J. Lady, G. Duck, and the Count

Sex
in the
Museum

one

Please Dont Touch, Lick, Stroke, or Mount the Exhibits

On my desk I have a stack of books, a laptop, a phone charger, and an assortment of pens. I also have a butt plug, a masturbation sleeve, a mysterious menstruation tonic, and, of course, a pile of porn.

Welcome to the Museum of Sex.

People always ask me what a typical day at the o ffi ce is like. Its hard to say because, really, no day is typical. I do, however, spend a lot of time on research, trying to keep ahead of all the sex-related stories that are constantly breaking. And every day I fi nd something that makes me shout out to my coworkers, Did you know?

For example:

Did you know that people have inserted into their rectums items as diverse as lightbulbs, curling irons, ax handles, and seventy-two individual half-inch jewelers saws?

Did you know that the word vanilla comes from the Latin word for vagina because at some point in history someone saw a resemblance?

Or that koala bears as a species have rampant chlamydia?

Did you know that according to some folk medicine love charms, the best way to keep a man faithful is to urinate in his morning coffee?

As curator of the Museum of Sex, I know something is exhibition-worthy when it makes me stop and wonder. For most people, the simple fact that the museum exists gives them pause.

I get it. Th ere was a time, though its getting hard to remember, when I had my own what the? moment. Most of us are lucky if we grow up with an art gallery, a science museum, maybe a natural history museum. But a sex museum?

Institutions like MoSex (the museums pet name) arent the stu ff of elementary school fi eld trips. Most of us dont have a frame of reference for something like this, and our long-standing assumptions confuse us. Museums are highbrow; sex is base. Museums are public; sex is private. Th e two just dont go together. No wonder people are wary when they walk through our doors. Will they see live girls? Will there be rooms to have sex? Can they masturbate while they watch the fi lms? Come naked?

Th e answer, disappointing to some, is a categorical no. Th e Museum of Sex is just like any other cultural institution: a haven for art, artifacts, and ephemera. A ft er all, the word museum is in our title for a reason. Its just that, in our case, we are dedicated to the history, evolution, and cultural signi fi cance of human sexuality. In other wordssex.

Yes, we have a sign that says, Please dont touch, lick, stroke, or mount the exhibits. And yes, our guards o ft en have to remind patrons: that sex machine on display is not for you to use, maam. Or Sir, please get o ff the St. Andrews Cross (a seven-foot brushed-steel x, once the main restriction apparatus in Domina Ms dungeon). But thats just the price of doing business when you feature the worlds most fascinating topic.

Unlike many museums, we do allow photography. Our guards watch as thousands photo bomb themselves with the installations, in many cases trying to make it look as if they are engaged in the sexual act on display. I cant count the number of times our life-sized sculpture of pandas coupling has been taken from behind for an interspecies Instagram. And for every penis that has graced our galleries, Im con fi dent a photo of someone pretending to fellate it exists on the Internet.

To more constructively channel this energy, we provide opportunities throughout the museum where people are encouraged to touch the exhibits. Th e torsos of a male and female RealDoll are long-standing interactives that give visitors a chance to experience the incredibly high-grade silicone of these exceptionally expensive, fully customizable sex dolls. Patrons viewing this installation can stick their hands into Plexiglas openings and feel the breasts, vulva, and penis of the dolls. Freedom does have its limits, though. During one of our exhibition parties someone bit the nipple o ff the female RealDoll. We learned our lesson. Now, anything fragile is dutifully kept under glass.

Heres an observation: although people eagerly squeeze the breasts and stick their fi ngers into the vagina of the female doll, fewer con fi dently grab the sha ft of the males penis. Could it be that, even in a museum, our society thinks womens bodies are fair game? Are there social taboos that prevent patrons from touching a male peniswomen who worry they might be slut shamed for a public demonstration of sexuality; heterosexual men concerned with doing anything that would deviate from ideas of straight masculinity? A ft er more than a decade working at the Museum of Sex, its questions like these that keep me fascinated.

But we do like to keep our visitors engaged, which is why we o ff er a wide array of inviting displays. Like the Fuck Bike #001, created by Andrew H. Shirley and William Th omas Porter, which we had once positioned in our shop window to entice both exhibitionists and voyeurs alike. Created from multiple spokes, wheels, rods, and bike parts, this eleven-foot-long sculptural piece can be mounted like any normal bike. Yet in this case, the act of peddling causes a fl esh-colored, veiny dildo to fl op back and forth horizontally, transforming itquite literallyinto a bike that can fuck. And yes, its a highly popular interactive.

Jump for Joy is also a favorite. A bouncy castle made of gigantic breasts, this immersive installation encourages people to leap into the air and throw themselves o ff enormous in fl ated latex mammaries (designed to re fl ect the diversity of shape, color, and size that exists in reality). And they do. With big smiles on their faces, patrons will quite literally jump for joya once-in-a-lifetime experience that overcomes any initial embarrassment. Its fun to watch people enjoying themselves and being carefree, not exactly what we tend to associate with most museum experiences. And as the Hu ffi ngton Post says, If Th is Boob Bounce House Doesnt Turn You On To Art, We Dont Know What Will.

Most people come to MoSex looking for something to shock them. Th is was an easier feat when the Museum opened a decade ago. Now, in the age of the Internet, its becoming increasingly di ffi cult to curate an entirely unique experience. What was once considered fringe is now considered (almost) mainstream. Depending on the audience, that is. Ten years ago, for example, few people knew the meaning of the term bukkake. Today Im con fi dent the average eighteen-year-old would be able to provide a succinct de fi nition: an act that involves multiple men ejaculating on an individual, typically on the face. (Also, a type of udon noodle.)

As curator, its my job to create exhibitions, turning shocking concepts and images into something that leaves people with a greater understandingor at least broader thinkingof sexuality. Th at potential shi ft in the way people view the vast, amazing, and o ft en unbelievable arena of sexuality is what makes me love my job. Before working at the Museum of Sex I would never have known that early condoms or rubbers were reused multiple times, were as thick as bicycle tires, and smelled of sulfur. Nor would I be able to quote grannies, upskirt, nip slip, and facesitting as the twentieth, forty-sixth, sixty- fift h, and eighty-third most popular Internet porn searches. What a di ff erence a decade makes.