Richard Kriheli

I am standing on the platform in Jackson Heights, waiting for an express train when I see the light of a train approaching through the tunnel. Only now, I can’t tell which train is coming until the front car has entered the station. And even so, it takes a bit of squinting until it comes close enough to make out the badge. Yes, I’m getting old – but my eyesight is still good. So, it’s not that.

Earlier, when I threw up my dukes against gentrification and the loss of character in New York City, I glazed over another, more obvious example of losing face: the MTA’s wavering identity. I am not even talking about the loss of graffiti that once turned a train-ride into a lesson in underground, urban graphic art. Now, trains are virtually unidentifiable.

I have had plenty of beef with the MTA in the past, but this time its striking a different chord with me. Being that I’ve invested a large portion of my adult professional career in graphic design, I feel somewhat obligated to call out the MTA for this tragedy-in-the-making. Please join me in a collective: “what the eff happened to the design system/taxonomy?”

The MTA still uses the color-coded lines representing routes or trunks in their maps and stations, but traces of this system are slowly going extinct on the trains themselves. The new R142 trains that are slowly replacing the smelly-old cars are nice, clean and effective (so far). Let’s face it – anyone who has used the MTA in the past will appreciate the clear instructions being relayed instead of the muffled loud crap that no one understood anyway. But, the color codes and graphic design system is absent on the outside of the cars.

Thus, distinction is lost now. The experience is radically different in my estimation. There aren’t many cool things about the MTA, and you will rarely hear me compliment anything they do. But the graphic design is tight, and they had it good. The ubiquitous Helvetica used throughout with a strong color arrangement makes for a very user-friendly, seamless scheme.

I can’t believe today I can say : there used to be a time when I could tell which train was coming from almost a station away. That said, I strongly urge the MTA to bring back the color coded designs to the exterior of the cars. Actually, consider this a plea. Don’t destroy the only thing you have going in your favor: your face.

The welcome mat to New York’s proverbial ‘melting pot’ has long been weathered and worn. In the past couple of decades, those from the outskirts of this country seem to have migrated here in droves. Despite the stereotypes New Yorkers have long been branded with – the outsiders were always greeted with open arms. Though, there is a common aphorism amongst native New Yorkers – more typically in the outer boroughs that goes something like:

“wipe your feet before you step in my house”

With the said influx of transplants, I am starting to feel as if the mat is being hopped over en route to our place. The landscape of New York is transfigured with folks from other cities rapidly becoming a significant portion of our population. It’s those same people that say “I’m from Brooklyn,” and you can instantly whiff the new blood.

So these newbies stand before the mat, and glaze it over, walk right in, chest brazen with that ever-so-bleached smile. The immigrants who came before them are jolted. The same people who paved the way, and made this city what it is today. Or, rather, what it was.

What it was? Here are just a few checklist highlights: The gentrificaton of Harlem and now Brooklyn. The transformation of Times Square into Disneyland. The entire island of Manhattan gradually resembling a midwestern strip mall. People creating “you’re a new yorker when…” lists, whose stay here has been shorter than my current lease. Venti Skim Mochiattos with no foam. I could go on, but you get the picture.

This whole thing reeks of something equivalent a new neighbor helping themselves to your fridge and remote. Hey, I’m a friendly guy – even by NYC standards. Go ahead, use my fridge and remote, no problem – but please show some manners. This city is great, and everyone should have equal access to it. But this metamorphosis gives me the creeps.

Bottom line is, the welcome mat is there for a reason. It is muddied, though dry, from endless traffic to and from our home. And yes, it bears the word “welcome” but maybe this word needs to be redefined, or changed altogether – just like the face of this city. Those from outside should take a minute to be conscious of this mat, woven with coarse materials – designed to last. And last, it will.