Frank Lloyd--Right On!

I finally went to some art museums today. It was simultaneously lovely and overwhelming. I saw a terrific show of Klimt and Schiele at the Neue Gallery. It was fun, because I went alone and got to see every single piece and listen to every single segment on the audio tour without anyone being impatient or not understanding my need for compulsive thoroughness.

I also heard a lot of people talking loudly and stupidly about the art. I don’t have a problem with people having little art history education--in fact, I laud them for going to museums anyway to absorb a little culture. And, I also think that people should not be afraid of forming their own, even naïve, opinions about art--that’s what it’s there for: interpretation. However, I really don’t want to hear the bull when I don’t know you from Adam. It was pretty annoying to hear these uncouth loudmouths trying to sound smart and critical, professing in stentorian voices to their timid wives or friends on subjects they clearly knew nothing about. What happened to the rule about using your “gallery voice”--didn’t their mother teach them anything? Anyway, it didn’t get better at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, even though that museum is one thousand times larger with more rooms to hide from the yahoos.

After the tiny, manageable Neue Gallery, the Met’s gargantuan-ness rendered me speechless. I spent the first 30 minutes in a confused panic. “What should I see today? How the heck do I get there? How can I possibly cram 12 more trips here before the end of the summer? Oh my god, I haven’t even considered the Guggenheim, the MOMA, and the Brooklyn Museum of Art. I’m screwed!” In the end, I tried to find the modern art section, got lost in the British fashion exhibit, found refuge on the rooftop garden, and gave up and had dinner in the shi-shi café. After gathering my wits over a bowl of pesto pasta and glass of sparkly water (feeling particularly fancy), I decided to take a guided tour. A lovely college intern raced us around in a whirlwind tour of about 8 eras and cultures, which helped me form a plan of attack for next time: scrap the Egyptians and Greeks, go straight for the Moderns, and try to find some Dutch masters. If I stumble upon the Japanese or Russian section, it will just be icing on the cake.

I love traveling alone sometimes. Don’t get me wrong. I also enjoy a terrific travel buddy, but there are some very delicious things that happen when you are a solo tourist. It’s just so quiet and self reflective and you get to indulge yourself in every decision. Perhaps it’s from growing up in a family of five children, but I like getting my way and getting to eat whatever is on my plate.

A couple favorites