Packing our excess gear into lockers, we were offered shots. Led to a circular platform, my back against the wall, an Oculus headset was placed over my eyes, headphones over my ears. There is also a timeline on display tracing the evolution of sex education in America. Keith Haring prints, vintage condom tins, prototype sex machines, a metal and leather anti-onanism device, and vibrators from the turn of the 20th century. One of the more miraculous parts of VR is its ability to stoke the fear of death. Two narrow galleries are dimly lit; the museum's blacked out lower windows add to the furtiveness. Soon, our names were called. The small scale exhibits don't merit an admission price just a few cents under the Guggenheim's, but then again "you don't think about Picasso seven times an hour.
Shows change every six months or so, and occasional changes are made to the Spotlight on the Permanent Collection on the second floor, which trots out selections from the 15,plus artifacts in the permanent collection: For a museum dedicated to hedonism, it makes perfect sense. As I go to touch, I am surprised as I am touched back. Two narrow galleries are dimly lit; the museum's blacked out lower windows add to the furtiveness. Should it all excite you, on the upper floor, a computer terminal is set up for visitors who wish to contribute their own bawdy tales. The feathers, as it turns out, are very real, and extremely soft. I reached out to feel them, as advised, but to no avail—they disintegrated at my touch into tiny pink particles. Walking up three flight of stairs, we entered an even darker room. We were shuttled down a hallway of numbered doors to which we were each assigned. Keith Haring prints, vintage condom tins, prototype sex machines, a metal and leather anti-onanism device, and vibrators from the turn of the 20th century. I rolled my eyes. A sense of digression pervades. This one appears angelic, surrounded by feathers and, rather than suspended in air, walking amongst our group. The small scale exhibits don't merit an admission price just a few cents under the Guggenheim's, but then again "you don't think about Picasso seven times an hour. I nervously laugh as they cross my skin, at once embarrassed and at ease. Eventually a voice comes over the audio channel announcing the experience has ended. Soon, our names were called. In my less self-conscious moments, I even danced. There is also a timeline on display tracing the evolution of sex education in America. Alexander Breindel April 20, We entered a dark room lined with velvet rope. Textual contributions from experts tilt things toward the intellectual while flickering snippets accompanying the history of stag films ensure that exhibition never gets too bookish. Over breast-shaped jello shots in the bar afterwards, my partner struck a more somber tone in reflecting on what we had just done. You must be at least 18 to enter the museum unless you're accompanied by a parent or guardian. The possibilities of VR had sunk in, it seemed, and he was worried. Entering mine, I was greeted by another space-flight attendant, this time serving as my guide.
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