***2 1/2 stars***
This should have been really cool and ultimately just fell flat. My top-tier chum who literally went to the school of hospitality and I came here on an impromptu visit this past Monday in the late morning, when the weather literally and figuratively put a damper on things and we needed an indoor activity to get us to lunchtime. I think I literally saw an ad for this on Instagram, liked the cool cruise ship-esque lighting in the pictures and made an impulsive choice. So...this one's on me.
WNDR is conveniently located on the same block as a parking garage in the downtown area, so it was very easy to find. Even though I'm now pretty familiar with this neighborhood, it's not my favorite - very tourist trap, grimy and a lot of homeless people (and I say that as someone who works next to Penn Station in NY). So arguably this museum already has a strike against it - it's not in the bougie section by Fenway where the real heavy hitter museums are, and has kind of taken on the personality of its surroundings. Not the best.
Like a lot of touristy settings, WNDR suffers from a pretty common flaw - it's crowded and you're very much aware of other people, which is pretty much the worst situation to be in when you're trying to immerse yourself in an edgy artistic installation. I couldn't appreciate some of the optics because they let a family with screaming toddlers come in 30 seconds after us, which just screams shameless cash grab. My recommendation, especially if you're going to make this pretty kid friendly (which it is) - stagger the times. Treat it the way a well-managed mini golf course does it, and ensure no one is starting the tour within five or 10 minutes of the prior customers. It's not fail proof, but it would be a strong start in the right direction. And similarly, there was a family in front of us that clearly had to prematurely move on to a different room because they knew we were waiting. That just sucks and makes for a crappy experience. Easy fix even if it means you're losing out ultimately on some tickets.
There IS some neat stuff in here; it wasn't a total loss. There are some rooms where your body essentially controls the lighting (kind of reminded me of a large, human-sized Lite-Brite for the other Geriatric Oregon Trail Millennials out there - hey) and you have some good Gram material at least. My two favorite features were the eyeball section, where this guy takes a close-up picture of your eyeball and then posts the picture on the wall with other eyeballs (it sounds insane when you type it out like that). It was a little triggering in terms of ophthalmologist-related PTSD but interesting - it was cool to compare the designs of the eyeball with my chum's. There was also a wall where you could write some thoughts, quotes, whatever you wanted on a piece of paper to hang up. The only nitpick I have there is you can do that at a ton of places, not just at a random artistic-heavy museum. For instance, I've done that at my local sushi restaurant. There's probably a way for WNDR to distinguish itself here if a little more thought/money was put into it.
Speaking of, that's the obvious issue overall - they need more funding for this. A lot of these installations are honestly pretty cheap and need to be spiffed up. The Let's Survive Forever room SHOULD be really immersive and a high point, but you can clearly hear the screaming kids and other visitors outside. This should 100% be a soundproof area, and it's not. Some of the exhibits reminded me unfortunately of the Jersey Shore - the seedier sections like Seaside. Literally they have one of those fortune-teller machines to churn out a generic prediction when you push a button. How is that even arguably art?
The staffers are a selling point - I think everyone we interacted with was pretty young (maybe they hire directly from a nearby college?), friendly and engaged. A few of them were stationed throughout the museum and displayed a solid knowledge base for their assigned areas. But ultimately? This isn't worth the price of admission right now. read more