Messages from the back of the MetroCard

A collage of MetroCards with messages for everyone. (Click the image to enlarge.)

Since its introduction in 1993, the MetroCard has become a ubiquitous symbol of New York City. On the front, the familiar yellow-on-blue gave way to its current blue-on-yellow design. On the back, well, that’s a different story and one featured in the news today.

Recently, the MTA has begun to circulate MetroCards that say, simply, “optimism” on the back. The word is printed in the familiar Akzidenz-Grotesk font, the Helvetica precursor that permeates the Massimo Vignelli-designed MTA signage. It is a simple but complicated statement, and in today’s Times, Michael Grybaum delves into the philosophy behind MetroCard optimism. I’ll excerpt, but read the piece. It’s a prime example of excellent news-features writing.

On the back of seven million MetroCards distributed this fall is a single printed word: “optimism.” Composed in clean, bold, sans-serif letters, it floats in a sea of white just beneath the boilerplate fine print. Another seven million are on the way early next year.

At first glance, the word appears simple and unassuming, a non sequitur easily overlooked amid the blur of travel in the city. Even its creators acknowledge that many subway and bus riders may never see it.

But as unemployment in the city reaches a 16-year high, as corporations close and deficits mount, optimism has become a scarce commodity, aboveground and below. New York, it seems, could use a chance to restock…

Not all that the “optimism” project suggests is, well, optimistic. The word on the card can be read as an encouragement, a command, a taunt, an aspiration. “I like that people can digest it in any way they choose,” [artist Reed] Seifer, 36, said. “I accept all praise and criticism. I love artwork in which people perceive things beyond the intention of the artist.”

And so Grynbaum’s words got me thinking about the MetroCard. The Internet is a haven for old cards. Collector’s item MetroCards pop up on eBay on a daily basis, and there is even a site dedicated to collecting every MetroCard back the MTA has issued since 1994. The Winter Garden at the World Trade Center was among the first of the cards issued.

Over the years, numerous images have filled the cards. I have one from 2004 when the MTA celebrated 100 years of the subway system. This card has a picture of the first ride snapped on Oct. 27, 1904 at the now-abandoned City Hall Stop. I also have a few Green MetroCards from 2008. Otherwise, though, my collection of expired MetroCards feature mostly mundane warnings about subway safety. I remember the Subway Series cards from 1997 but no longer have any.

Of course, the oft-overlooked backs of the MetroCards aren’t used only for pithy statements and iconic images. As Grynbaum relates, the MTA sells the backs of these cards. (Spin City, anyone?) So far this year, the MTA has earned $165,000 from MetroCard ad sales, double the total from 2008. Yet, ads appear on just three percent of the 120 million MetroCards printed so far this year. Mostly, the backs of these cards remain firmly hidden, pressed up against credit cards and business cards buried in a wallet somewhere. Optimism, it seems, won’t always see the light of day.

Still, if just a few riders notice, it will be worth it to Christopher Boylan, the MTA official in charge of the “optimism” project. “God knows people want to feel good, they want to feel up, they want to feel positive,” he said to Grynbaum. “If I can make a couple of customers smile a day, that’s nice.”