MUSEUM PIECE ICONIC CITROEN DS MAKES THE HIGH-BROW CUT
With a Citroën DS becoming MoMA’s ninth automotive addition, we look at the process
Manhattan’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) is considered one of the most important museums of art and culture in the world. At the very least, it’s been from its inception one of the world’s most progressive.
It was the first to establish an Architecture and Design department, three years after its opening in 1929, and was also one of the first to host an automobile-themed exhibit, “Eight Cars,” in 1951.
Of course, it did take until 1972 for MoMA to add its first car, a 1946 Cisitalia 202 GT, to its permanent collection of contemporary art, which numbers some 200,000 pieces overall. But the museum has since picked up the pace, this month adding its ninth car, a red 1973 Citroën DS, to its vaults.
Far from getting by on looks alone, however, there are many boxes a vehicle must be able to tick before being selected for the vaunted halls of MoMA. Here’s how the museum decides if a car is worthy of its collection.
Add it to the secret and changing wish list
Since it got its hands on that Cisitalia, the museum’s kept a “wish list” of about a dozen automobiles, though it has evolved as acquisitions such as its 1953 Willys Jeep M28A1 and 1959 VW Beetle were crossed off and new wants have been added.
The museum is looking for “the great achievements” in car design, explains Paul Galloway, a specialist with MoMA’s Architecture & Design Collection, “the specific moments where the technology, the craft, the artistry, and the cultural importance crosses the threshold into a masterpiece.”
Like the other items in its collection, most of MoMA’s automobiles are European, but Galloway says more American cars are on the top-secret wish list.
Do the research and build an argument
When a car on the list is singled out for possible acquisition, specialists such as Galloway will start researching the vehicle and building an argument for why MoMA needs it.
Every piece picked up by the Design department has to represent a “great expression of design” in its field, whether it be a chair, helicopter or Airstream trailer (MoMA owns examples of each). The staff will ask “Is this object important? Did this change history?” They will specifically avoid asking “Is this car art?”
“Does that question help anything? Does that help us appreciate them?” sighs Galloway. “It’s often said design is art that enters your everyday life: art you use. Whether or not something is ‘art,’ who cares?”
Find an expert and get them to source a car
Next the museum will find the specific example it wants, typically by reaching out to its manufacturer. When MoMA acquired its 1968 Fiat 500f last summer, it was assisted by Roberto Golito, designer of the new 500.
In 1996, Jaguar similarly helped the museum navigate the world of vintage E-Types and nab its 1963 roadster, “one of the best in the continent,” from a private collector. Other times it’s a matter of “waiting for the right one,” like when an original-paint survivor 1965 Porsche 911 was donated by its owners last year.
The manufacturer will also often gift the car to the museum, which, thankfully for MoMA, often means cost mostly isn’t an issue. In the case of the Cisitalia, Pininfarina not only sourced the car, a literal barn find, but also restored it pro bono. The Citroën was a gift from Swiss architect and DS enthusiast Christian Sumi.
Make the proposal and acquire the car
With an argument for a car’s acquisition ready, and a specific example within reach, the museum’s curators and specialists will approach MoMA’s acquisition committee of trustees and patrons, for approval.
They will underscore to the committee how the piece will better help the museum “document contemporary creativity,” Galloway says, and, once given the thumbs-up, acquire the car. A proposal for a car hasn’t yet been shot down, but easily could be.
Prepare it for museum life; it’ll never run
Once acquired, a car in the museum’s collection will never drive again, and has to be made to not run for the safety of patrons and other pieces. (You don’t want to accidentally get motor oil on a Jackson Pollock, even if no one would notice.)
“A lot of car collectors say we murder our cars, that we’re turning them into sculptures,” admits Galloway. “People say a car provides a sensual experience, with the smell and touch and sound of the thing, and that visuals aren’t the whole story.
“I understand that perspective, but at the same time, we are a museum in midtown Manhattan; it’s just not feasible. It’s either we have them as static objects, or we don’t have them at all.”
Display it, preferably with a security guard
New pieces frequently get spotlighted in an exhibit, such as when the Jaguar headlined 1996’s “Refining the Sports Car,” or MoMA’s just-acquired John Barnard Formula One race car was built into 1994’s “Designed for Speed: Three Automobiles by Ferrari.”
The cars often sit up on a plinth, and are, if possible, watched over by a security guard. “People are very good about not touching the Matisse or the Picasso, but can’t stop themselves when they see the E-Type,” laments Galloway. During its time in the gallery, patrons would several times a day reach for the door, he says, or try to sit in it for a selfie. “People feel these are everyday objects, not pieces of design.”
Ongoing museum construction means it may be some time before the Citroën sees its own plinth, but Galloway has no doubt it’ll be a draw when it does.
“We always want to get them out on view, people are always asking for them,” he says of MoMA’s cars. “We would love to have them out again soon.”