An Art Museum A Week

Henri Matisse is my favorite artist, because I love color and energy in art; I love things that are dynamic and things that move, and I find these things in Matisse's paintings. And I like that he said that art should be like a "good armchair." I wasn't familiar with his cut-outs and so couldn't wait to experience them for myself and stand before them, awash in colors.

My plan was solid, and the line moved quickly, but Matisse proved too popular for a free afternoon with the city still full of holiday tourists, and the timed tickets for the exhibit were already sold out for the evening when I got inside. So, I revised my original plan and instead spent the afternoon with another Frenchman, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, in his Paris of caberets and cafes and dance halls.

I've been on a little bit of a Parisian kick lately, perhaps because I've picked up a few more fabulous French friends over the year, or perhaps because I recently discovered the movie Amelie, which seems like it was made just for me. Also, I just finished the book How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are, given to me by one of my fabulous French girlfriends, which convinced me that I am, in fact, just Parisian (I'm sure Parisians and New Yorkers share similar qualities). The books so spoke to me that I decided to incorporate some of these helpful tips into my daily life, like keeping my jewelry on while sleeping, and purchasing fresh baguettes at the grocery store each week. I quickly had to nix the baguette idea, though, after I twice finished the entire baguette, on my own, in a matter of two days (very un-French, I think). The tip "gain five pounds from eating bread" was not listed in the book.

But anyway, my discovery of The Paris of Toulouse-Lautrec: Prints and Posters, on view at MOMA until March 22, 2015, came at impeccable timing.

Toulouse-Lautrec died in his 30s, but his art helped define the Belle Époque period in Paris in the late 19th/early 20th century. He painted the lifestyle he saw around him in Paris, café-concerts and cabarets, performers and prostitutes, and activities around the city. The five section exhibit features 100 pieces and also includes a look at his foray into designing programs, sheet music, and magazine pages. His posters are transformative, whisking viewers away to the madness and fury of 19th century dance halls. Some of them remind me of what I like about my life in New York, always moving, always dynamic, burning, burning bright.

Toulouse-Lautrec loved to depict women; he had quite a few in his circle of friends and he portrayed them compassionately. He was a frequent patron of the city’s brothels, and according to the exhibit, he was welcomed into places from which other men were turned away. In his portfolio Elles, he portrayed prostitutes sympathetically and quietly during off-hours. He painted many posters of Yvette Guilbert, a unique performer adorning Paris’ stages. He also painted the performer Jane Avril many times. Many of his pieces were influenced by his interest in Japanese ukiyo-e woodcuts, which were popular in Paris during the period.

The exhibit was so lovely that I went through and looked at everything twice. I can see why so many people choose to decorate their own walls with copies of Toulouse-Lautrec's prints and posters. They made me nostalgic for a moment and place in time that wasn't mine, but for a few minutes, I felt as if it could have been. 

German Babylon (Babylone d'Allemagne), 1894

La Revue blanche, 1895

Queen of Joy (Reine de joie), 1892

Divan Japonais, 1893

Jane Avril, 1893

Besides a temporary vacation to Paris and Matisse’s cut-outs, the MOMA also has quite a few novel, thought-provoking exhibits on display now. I took a walk through Jean Dubuffet: Soul of the Underground, on display through April. I remembered Dubuffet from a modern art class; I remembered him as influential in the mid-20th century, with his experimental use of materials (like dirt, sand, gravel), but I haven’t seen many of his pieces since then. The MOMA’s exhibit was incredibly extensive, a fitting tribute to an artist who bucked high-brow trends and experimented with the gritty.

Also on display was the exhibit Robert Gober: The Heart is Not a Metaphor (closing January 18; go see it soon). It’s the first large retrospective of the sculptor, who is still working today. Pictures weren’t allowed, but Gober’s sculptures are influenced by domestic themes, New York City, and more, sometimes perverse and disturbing, always haunting and thoughtful. My favorite pieces was a giant, three-room piece featuring sinks with running water and piles of newspapers from the 1990s, created for the Dia gallery in Chelsea.

Time Spent: 1.5 hours On the web: Visit MOMA online here. Hours: 10:30am-5:30pm everyday, and open until 8pm on Fridays. Admission: $14-$25, but free on Fridays from 4-8pm! Contact:  You can reach out online here, or call (212) 708-9400. Address: 11 West 53 Street New York, NY 10019

Ocean City, NJ is a popular destination for Jersey Shore tourists, with lovely, clean beaches and just the right mix of urban and small town. It's friendly and walkable with a fantastic boardwalk. Between the swimming and carnival rides, it would be easy to overlook the art in this town, but it would be a lost opportunity as there are quite a few art galleries (along with a yearly art festival on the boardwalk). During a recent vacation, I chose to visit and write about the Ocean City Fine Arts League because it is a co-op run by local artists and is the perfect way to support the local art scene.

The OCFAL gallery is located close to the boardwalk in downtown Ocean City on Asbury Avenue. Though perhaps not as trendy a location as the always crowded boardwalk, it is a bustling and pleasant strip, touting coffee shops and restaurants, a book store, clothing shops, a few antique stores, and various other mom and pop shops. Parking was easy to find on a weekday afternoon (and as an added bonus, it only costs $0.25 for an hour's worth of parking).

The gallery is medium-sized and the building snuggles in well with its shop neighbors; the inside is bright and warm and welcoming. Its walls are comfortably crowded with pieces by local artists, many of which focus on the beach in various states or on the quintessential Jersey Shore scenes: the boardwalk, the surreying, the ferris wheels, the boats, the umbrellas. It is truly art by and for those familiar with the Shore, staying true to its roots and evoking a steady stream of memories from anyone who strolls along the aisles, like hearing an old song on the radio.

The OCFAL welcomes artists to join with a yearly membership fee of only $35, which includes gallery space and a staff of friendly volunteers to handle the sale of artwork (artists receive 67% of the sale). The result is a rich and diverse collection of local artists working in a variety of media. In my mind, there is no better way to support local artists, and that's the best thing about seeing art in a little beach town. 

I couldn't possibly capture all of the pieces I loved, but a few of my favorites are below. This art excursion was a little bit different than my typical art excursions; I am not immune to the heart-swelling memories the subjects of these pieces bring about. I appreciate the beauty and the caliber of these paintings, but in this case, I was drawn more to what the pieces portray. 

Phil Rudio, Lighthouse View. My grandmother grew up in Cape May (a beach town at the tip of NJ), and to this day will talk about life there as if it were yesterday. She loves lighthouses and decorated her house accordingly, so depictions of lighthouses always remind me of her.

Rita Michalenko, Since 1919. The Kohr Bros ice cream stands on the boardwalk are woven into every Jersey Shore memory (there are a few in Ocean City). The company was started in 1919 at Coney Island and still operates as a chain along the eastern US. The first ice cream cones went for only a nickel each!

Brenda Badford, Gillian's Big Wheel OCNJ (Scratch board). I just love the rhythm of this piece and how the ferris wheel (on the Ocean City boardwalk) towers over everything else and almost blends into the dark summer sky. I remember strolling on the beach at night and looking at the ferris wheel as a glittering beacon.

Grace Zambelli, Ventnor Lifeboats. Ventnor is another little shore city in between Ocean City and Atlantic City. I like how this award-winning painting depicts the lazy, wispy days of summer.

VInce Filipelli, Boardwalk Bump. In his paintings displayed in the gallery, this artist uses the unique and refreshing perspective of placing the viewer within the action of the painting instead of as an outside observer. On this one, I like the boldness of the lines and the colors. It's a comfortable scene I've experienced quite a few times through countless Shore visits over the years.

According to the museum's website, this exhibit is "the first comprehensive overview of Italian Futurism to be presented in the United States," and it's impressive at that. The exhibit combines painting, sculpture, architecture, music, words, and crafts, skillfully demonstrating that Futurism was more than just a new way of putting paint on canvas. Futurism was a way of life, closely tied to the events occuring in Italy in the early part of the 20th century. Its rise corresponded with the modernization of the world as things became more urban and industrialized; the pace of life quickened and new technoligies emerged. There was even a manifesto; actually, multiple manifestos that touched on different aspects of Futurism and shifted as time went on. The Guggenheim exhibit site has a great collection: http://exhibitions.guggenheim.org/futurism/manifestos/.

The Futurist works lined the walls of the spiral floors of the museum. At the start, Umberto Boccioni's pivotal Futurist scuplture, Unique Forms of Continuity in Space (1913) is understandably afforded its own alcove. On its pedestal at the Guggenheim, the viewer has ample room to circle it slowly and view it from all angles. It's a dynamic piece and energy flows from the tip to the base. 

                        (image via moma.org)

The Futurist Manifesto is written on the wall for visitors to see as they slowly climb up the museum's circular path. There are paintings, a few sculptures, framed note paper, sheet music, film, furniture, and even clothing to peruse. Futurism was an immersive way of living, or at least it was meant to be. The Futurist tenet, "opera d’arte totale," means “total work of art," meaning that a viewer or participant should be wholly wrapped in Futurism.

I like the grandiose paintings most, the colors and the never ceasing, whirlwind movement. In Futurist art, cities are shining beacons, and according to the information at the museum, the art aims to place the spectator at the center. 

Of the entire exhibit, my two favorie pieces were Boccioni's painting, The City Rises and Giacomo Balla's Street Light (both below, respectively). Looking at them, it's almost hard to catch your breath.

The coolest thing about this exhibit in particular is how closely it is tied to world events at the time of the movement's emergence. In the background were World War I and World War II, both in Italy's backyard. Interestingly, the Futurists supported Italy's entrance into World War I (as war was a way for rebirth, and wiping clean and starting over), quashing our modern day stereotype of all artists as pacifists. The Guggenheim's exhibit so clearly placed these works (all waves of the movement, and all types of media) in the context of the world at large. As industry marched on, the Futurists became captivated first with the automobile, and then with flight (or aeropitura, Tullio Crali's Before the Parachute Opens below).

In my mind, this exhibit is perfect for a history buff who may not be as interested in art history. And history aside (which we shouldn't really be doing, because history is critical to Futurism, but bear with me), it's the perfect summer treat. The art is brilliant and fast-paced and dynamic, just like a New York summer. Three months of burning like yellow candles, of a joyful frenzy. Before you know it, it will be September, and as the leaves turn brown and the sun sets at 6:30, the exhibit will close its doors.

I'd been to the Whitney once before, a few months ago, but the exhibits had since closed, and the first Friday of every month is "pay-what-you-wish." Plus, today was the first day of the Whitney's Biennial, sort of a "state of the union" of contemporary art. This is the 77th in the series, and will be the last to take place at this current location before the Whitney moves to its new home down town. Surprisingly, there was almost no line to get in, with a free coat check to boot.

For the Biennial, the Whitney brought in three outside curators to produce a show on each floor to represent their take on contemporary American art, which included both American artists who live abroad and international artists who reside in America. Moving up from the first floor lobby, the second floor was curated by Anthony Elms. For his exhibit, he drew influences from the building that houses the museum itself, the Breuer Building, a fitting tribute considering the next Biennial won't be in the building. The exhibit is Elms' answer to Breuer's question: "What should a museum look like, a museum in Manhattan?" The pieces require focus amid outside distraction, a commentary of the larger question at hand in that art in New York requires concentration among the constant energy and bustle of the city itself. The truly contemporary exhibit includes sculpture, painting, video, and art hard to pigeonhole into any discipline. The most interesting piece I came upon was Image of Limited Good, constructed by Valerie Snobeck and Catherine Sullivan. It was a large piece (more a collection of pieces), and included open suitcases and an assortment of other objects, including (but not limited to) cuff links, suit lining, disassembled greeting card rack, and hinges.

Valerie Snobeck and Catherine Sullivan, Image of Limited Good. 2014.

The third floor of the exhibit was curated by Stuart Comer. Comer hails from a background as a film and video curator in London. According to the exhibit's description, the pieces on display "have been drawn together to provide a kaleidoscope glimpse of this historical moment, a time of fundamental artistic, technological, and global transformation." The exhibit is heavily influenced by video but features a mix of media and installation art. Identity is also a crucial theme on this floor, with artists examining what it means to be American or part of another designated group. Comer depicts artists as "shape-shifters." I found the most captivating piece to be Bjarne Melgaard's installation, which was at once fascinating and extremely creepy. The installation looked to be a room full of life-sized Barbies at a tripped-out, psychedelic sleepover in an environment "charged with sex, violence, and societal ruin." According to the description, the artist is presenting the effects of "Anthropocene," which is apparently a "new geological age created by human activities, especially those that have caused global warming." It's not meant to be an optimistic piece, but a disturbing warning, and the walls are populated with video screens playing obscene films depicting graphic violent and sexual situations.

Bjarne Melgaard installation.

The fourth floor of the exhibit was curated by Michelle Grabner, a painter and professor. Grabner draws her inspiration from her career as an educator and presents her exhibit as a "curriculum" that includes three "priorities": contemporary abstract painting by women, materiality and affect theory, and art as strategy. As any good class would, the pieces presented ask questions of the viewer and expect analysis. My favorite piece on this floor was Sheila Hicks' Pillar of Inquiry/Supple Column, 2013-14, made of acrylic, linen, cotton, bamboo, and silk. The beautiful, looming towers of yarn were created specifically for this gallery; the piece forces the viewer to examine not only the art itself but the environment that holds it. 

Sheila Hicks, Pillar of Inquiry/Supple Column. 2013-14.

The final floor I visited on this chilly March Friday held the Whitney's American Legends: From Calder to O'Keeffe, which is on view until the end of June and displays works from the museum's permanent collection. I've seen it before, but American Legends is always worth another wander around. Featuring artists from the first half of the 20th century (into the 1960s), it contains influential American favorites I remember studying in art history class, featuring a mix of media and flashes of color, all requiring reflection from the viewer on the commentary they offer. Georgia O'Keefe, Roy Lichtenstein, Stuart Davis, and Jasper Johns are all represented here.

Jasper Johns, Three Flags. 1958

Georgia O'Keeffe, Flower Abstraction. 1924.

Roy Lichtenstein, Girl in Window (Study for World's Fair Mural). 1963.

What I like about the Whitney, more so than even the MOMA, is that it's a lesson in the unexpected. The Biennial is a special case, since it only happens every other year, and it felt as if the museum pulled out all the stops for the show. Not only did art fill the main exhibit areas, but there were also curious stuffed figures hanging from the exit signs in the stairwell, giving the overall environment a macabre feel. I've never experienced elevator art before, but the Whitney had that too, with a multimedia piece playing on a small screen in the elevator, accompanied by some jazzy elevator muzak that sounded a little like it was from a karaoke cassette tape.

Jeff GIbson, Metapoetaestheticism. 2013. In the elevator.

The Biennial is on view until May 25, which means you have one more first Friday on which you can graciously view it for free (or, support the museum with a donation and visit any other time). I've encouraged everyone to go as not only is this biannual event unique and significant in that it gives such a broad overview of American art, it is also the last one in the building before the Whitney bids farewell to the Upper East Side. As art usually does, the exhibit goes beyond just the pieces themselves to provide commentary on society at large. In the words of the museum itself: "We hope that the 2014 Biennial will suggest the profoundly diverse and hybrid cultural identity of America today."  

**Fun Fact** The 2014 Biennial is the 77th in the museum's long series of Annuals and Biennials after the first event held in 1932 by Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney (the sister of the grandfather of modern-day newscaster Anderson Cooper). Time Spent: About 1.5 hours On the web: Visit the full website here, and learn more about the Biennial here. Visit the Whitney on Facebook and Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram.    Hours: Wednesday and Thursday: 11am-6pm Friday: 1pm-9pm Saturday and Sunday: 11am-6pm  Admission: General Admission: $20 Ages 19-25: $16 Ages 65 and over: $16 Full-time Students: $16 Ages 18 and Under: Free! First Friday of each month is free! Contact: Phone: (212) 570-3600. Or send them an email. Address: 945 Madison Avenue (at 75th St) New York, NY 10021

Charline von Heyl, Folk Tales. 2013.

When I walked in to the beautiful building, situated right on a lovely corner of Prospect Park, I forgot I was in a museum for a moment and was immediately captivated by what appeared to be a giant dance party in the lobby. This isn't your typical free museum day, it's more like a giant celebration of Brooklyn. Along with listening to fabulous music in the gorgeous lobby, museum visitors can purchase wine and beer and mingle. Everyone I interacted with was friendly and gracious. And I was unrestricted to pursue my wanderings around the museum. Due to time constraints, I wasn't able to conquer the entire building, so the below is just a sampling. There will definitely be a Brooklyn Museum, Part III!

Unlike other free art nights, there wasn't a line for tickets to enter; guests can just stroll right in and meander around the museum as they please (there was a line for tickets to the pop-up art events, but they seemed to move quickly). There was a free (!) coat check as well. 

I started Saturday's vist on the first floor of the museum, in the Great Hall, in the Connecting Cultures exhibit. It's a long-term installation designed to give an overview of the museum's full collection. It's the perfect quick crash course to what the full musuem has in store. 

One unique component of the Brooklyn Museum is its extensive collection of decorative art as well as period model rooms and homes. The Jan Martense Schenck House is an actual house transported into the middle of the museum. It was built when the idea of the US was still decades away, when what would become urban Brooklyn looked like a quaint country environment. Not only can visitors step inside the lovingly preserved rooms, they can observe just how the how the house was decorated back when it was still inhabited. It's a Brooklyn moment, frozen in time. 

Moving onto more contemporary items, but keeping the Brooklyn theme, there was no photography allowed in Wangechi Mutu's fantastic exhibit on the fourth floor, Wangechi Mutu: A Fantastic Journey, which closed on March 9. Mutu may have achieved international fame, but she's based in Brooklyn, giving the whole exhibition a local, homecoming feel. The survey includes video, paintings, scupture, photography and giant collages, for which she is most known. Through her work, the Kenyan-born artist critically examines globalization, gender, race, and the "exocitization of the black female body." Mutu's pieces are both stunning and thought-provoking, particularly her collages, which feature a female protagonist combined with additional external influences. I couldn't take pictures, but examples of Mutu's work can be found on the exhibit's page online. 

The third floor features what I believe is the museum's jewel, the stunning Beaux-Arts Court. The Court holds the museum's magnificent collection of European paintings, interestingly, grouped by theme (like landscape and portraits) instead of country or decade. The impressive collection spans the Renaissance to modern art. The setting is just as fantastic as the art on the walls; the building is a work of art in itself.

I didn't have time to cover the entire museum, but I already have plans to go back in April for the next First Saturday event. The most wonderful thing about this event is that it's not just about the art and exhibits (although they are fabulous). It's about Brooklyn and it's about the community, making it an ideal Saturday night activity for both seasoned art-lovers and art newbies alike. 

**Fun Fact** The Brooklyn Museum is NYC's second largest museum in terms of size.  Time Spent: About 2 hours On the web: Visit the website here. The Brooklyn Museum rocks at social media. Visit them on Facebook and Twitter, or see the full listing of accounts on its website.    Hours: Wednesday - 11am-6pm Thursday - 11am-10pm  Friday-Sunday - 11am-6pm  On First Saturday, the museum is open until 10pm.  Admission (suggested): Adults: $12 Adults over 62: $8 Students: $8  Kids Under 12: Free! Contact: Phone: (718) 638-5000 Address: 200 Eastern Parkway Brooklyn, NY 11238

Power Flight, Joe Overstreet. 1971. 

Beaux-Arts Court

Portrait of a Lady with a Book. Bartolomeo Traballesi (Italian). 1570-75

Houses of Parliament, Sunlight Effect. Claude Monet. 1903.

It turns out I was half correct (not about the art vision, thank goodness--this was actually happening). The Armory Show is a modern and contemporary art fair; it happens each March and is "one of the most important annual art events in New York," according to the show's website. It was founded in 1994, but it takes its name from the original "Armory Show," held in the Lexington Avenue Armory in 1913. It was this groundbreaking show that introduced New York (and America) to modern art. To commemorate the 100 year anniversary of this event, the city's oldest museum, The New-York Historical Society is hosting a five month exhibit with some of the works presented at that first show, as well as the stories behind them. 

The 1913 Amory Show was scandalous, or, at least as scandalous as an art show could be. To viewers, the art was shocking, terrible, jarring, and revolutionary all at once. NPR has a great article about the show here. To just make clear the significance of the show, the entire Modernist movement in this country can be traced back to this moment. Europeans were creating art in a brand new way, with new, abstract ways of presenting figures and ideas and new colors, and the 1913 Armory Show was the shot that started the American Modernism revolution.

The belle of the ball was Marcel Duchamp's Nude Desending a Staircase, a jarring cacophony of shapes and shading with little color in the way. The show's attendees really didn't know what to make of it. Where was the figure? Where was the staircase? If not purely Cubist, it drew its inspiration from Cubism and garnered my favorite critical response to date when it was described as "an explosion in a shingle factory."

Besides Duchamp, works from Matisse, Picasso, Cezanne, Van Gogh, Brancusi and more were represented, just as the ad had promised. But there were also pieces from artists who I was not familiar with, but who had had an impact nonetheless. The show was coordinated to reflect the arrangement of the original Armory Show (which was huge), and you are meant to stroll through the exhibit in a certain order. 

My favorite thing about this exhibit is that it was truly art from an art historical perspective. Of course, there were plenty of pieces (though not as many as I would have greedily hoped), but they were interspersed with old photos and fully descriptive plaques elaborating more on the behind the scenes of the show. It was an art show with extensive context and would appeal to both modern art fans and students of history. Because it was put on by the New-York Historical society, the perspective of the show was a little different than if it had been put on by, say, the Met. It's an ideal show if you know someone who is a new-ish art fan walking around saying, "But I just don't get this modern stuff!" The show was as much about the history as it was about the art itself, which made for an interesting shift from what I usually go see.

The Armory Show closes on February 23, so this is your last chance to go see it! It won't be traveling, and once it's gone, it's gone, and it's absolutely worth it. Even better, the Society is in an absolutely beautiful building right on Central Park and is currently housing several other wonderful historical exhibits, so it's easy to make a day of it!

**Fun Fact** From NPR, the 1913 show represented the "first time the phrase 'avant-garde' was used to describe painting and sculpture" in this country.  Time Spent: About 1 hour. PS: No photos allowed On the web: Visit the website here. The museum is also on Facebook and Twitter and a myriad of other social media sites.   Hours: Tuesday-Thursday, Saturday - 10am-6pm Friday - 10am-8pm Sunday - 11am-5pm Monday - Closed Admission: Adults: $18 Seniors/Educators/Active Military: $14 Students: $12 Kids (6-13): $6 Kids 4 and under: Free!  Contact: Phone: (212) 873-3400 Address: 170 Central Park West at Richard Gilder Way (77th Street) New York, NY 10024

Marcel Duchamp, Nude Descending a Staircase.

"LAND SCAPE" is comprised of two series of Surrealist photographs depicting handmade models of gas stations and oil refineries made of everyday objects. It might not sound glamorous, but these brilliant photographs appear ripped right from Oz, the Emerald City. However, these gilded photos carry with them an ominious undertone. The objects used to create these models are throwaway, unnatutal items, like aluminum energy drink cans, straws, cardboard, hair rollers. They speak to our culture of disposability. And as you could guess, the works are critical of of the man-made structures these models represent; in the exhibit's catalogue, Shana Nys Dambrot writes, "the buildings' dazzling spectacle and retro-future aesthetic distracts from the dangers of their function." Both series in the exhibit, Gas Station and Refineries, were shot against natural, stunning settings, the Maui rainforest and California's coast and desert. It's an uncomfortable but necessary juxtaposition, and the photos are at once captivating and sobering. LaChappelle has created neon, flashy structures against the backdrop of natural treasures, revealing tiny urban arrangements within vast natural settings. It's enough to make the viewer stop and think for a moment about the human impact on our planet and whether that impact is positive or negative (it's looking pretty negative). 

The exhibit is a must-see for two reasons, for the simple beauty of the photographs, and because the photographs will make you think. Kasmin's corner gallery is welcoming and spacious, and its assorted rooms provide an apt setting for the photo exhibit. 

Strolling down the block toward the Hudson River, I did find Paul Kasmin's second gallery housing my original destination, the exhibit "Brancusi in New York 1913-2013." It's a small gallery with high ceilings, and it's a small exhibit, but the reward is great; modern art of the late 1800s and early 1900s has always been my favorite and Brancusi is no exception. Wikipedia deems Constantin Brancusi "the patriarch of modern sculpture." In 1913, Brancusi broke sculptural ground at a new New York exhibition, officially called the International Exhibition of Modern Art but nicknamed "The Armory Show." As a whole, the Show brought fresh avant-garde artists to New York City, drawing radical European art across the pond and opening American eyes to this new modern style of art (more about this in the next post). American viewers really took to Brancusi, and according to this exhibit, he sold 90% of his works in the US during his lifetime.

This particular exhibit includes only five bronze pieces, but each piece was chosen because it had a significant hand in directing the path modern sculpture would take. These five best represent the artist's primary themes and figures he utilized through his career. Paul Kasmin's Gallery is a perfect place to present Brancusi's sculptures; each is placed on an elevated pedastal with the appropriate reverence, allowing the viewer to observe the piece from all angles. None of the sculptures are too overwhelming, and they match the space well. 

Some of Brancusi's quotes quietly line the white walls: "We don't see real life except by its reflections" and "What is real is not the external form, but the essence of things." Brancusi's sculptures were so revolutionary because they were so simple and abstract. The artist emphasized geometric shapes, and movement flows through his pieces, aided by the light of the room reflecting off the the bronze material. The exhibit's featured pieces were Le Poisson ("The Fish"), Le Nouveau Né, Mademoiselle Pogany II, La Muse Endormie II, and Tete ("Head"), all constructed in the 1920s. Each piece is elegant and abstract. My personal favorite is Le Poisson. You can read more about each individual piece and its influence here. 

As an added bonus, the exhibit also includes black and white shots of Brancusi's studio. The artist lived a long life, and died at the age of 82 in Paris. 

Though they were steps away from one another, under the same gallery umbrella, "LAND SCAPE" and "Brancusi in New York" were two very different experiences. To me, "LAND SCAPE" was neon and loud and inquisitive and almost distressing, but in a good way. The photos were beautiful but forced the viewer to ask hard questions about a relevant social issue. On the other hand, "Brancusi" was quiet and reflective, allowing the viewer to ponder the influence these pieces had on the art world at large. From a distance, the sculptures don't seem so outlandish, but at the time, they were quite radical. The art world was turning itself on its head and doing cartwheels. In a way, I guess the two exhibits together served as fitting complements. And in the end, both question, question, question us, art, and culture, and isn't that what really good art does?

As expected, the Brancusi exhibit was the perfect precursor to my visit to see "The Armory Show at 100" soon after.

**Fun Fact** According to the gallery's website, Mademoiselle Pogany II debuted at the Armory Show and was the artist's most photographed piece.  Time Spent: About 30 minutes in each gallery.  On the web: Both galleries and the gallery shop are under one virtual roof at www.paulkasmingallery.com/. Follow them on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr AND Instagram.   Hours: Tuesday through Saturday: 10am to 6pm Admission: Free! Contact: Email [email protected].  Phone (10th Avenue Gallery): (212) 563-4474 Address: 293 Tenth Avenue New York, NY 10001 ...and... 515 W. 27th Street New York, NY 10001

Photos were allowed in the gallery (I was surprised), but guess who forgot a camera (::raises hand::). So, I've included a few images below pulled from the gallery's website as examples.

Constantin Brancusi, Le Poisson. 1926.

René Magritte, of the iconic "Ceci n'est pas une pipe" painting (actual name: The Treachery of Images) surprised me in ways that only a Surrealist could. René Magritte was a Surrealist artist from Belgium, painting in the first half of the 20th century. I do remember learning about Magritte in an art history class centered around modern art, but his breadth of work was so much wider than I had thought. Unfortunately, no photography was allowed, but the impressive exhibit spanned multiple rooms in the museum. According to the exhibit's website, "The Mystery of the Ordinary" is the first exhibit ever to center exclusively on Magritte's Surrealist paintings, created between 1926-1938. It's amazing that no one thought to do something like this earlier! Magritte was truly a master of the extraordinarily ordinary, playing with words and images and layering on meaning after meaning in sometimes dream-like worlds. To me, so many of Magritte's (and others') Surrealist pieces come across at first glance as silly, but with a little more thought, I find them so, so smart. Not only is there appeal in the puzzle, but the technical execution is top-notch.

One of my favorite pieces was Magritte's Threatening Weather. I am always the person trying to discover shapes and meanings in clouds (even today), and so I love the way Magritte plucked this slew of seemingly random images from clouds in the sky. According to the National Galleries Scotland's website, Threatening Weather is a quintessential example of Magritte's technique of employing recognizable objects in an unsual way, as if in a dream. 

René Magritte, Threatening Weather (1929). Image Credit: Wikipaintings 

I also loved Magritte's The Red Model. I had to do a double take with this one; at first glance I thought it was just a replica of a simple still-life photo of shoes. But that would be much too simplistic for Magritte! Upon closer inspection, these work boots seem to have quietly grown toes. The Red Model is another lesson in Magritte's rule book of expecting the unexpected and finding the extraordinary in the ordinary. I struggled to find any official meaning online behind The Red Model, but according to this Matteson Art page, the work was one of a few pieces that explored the "metamorphosis" of one object into another. 

René Magritte, The Red Model (1934). Image Credit: Wikipaintings

Along with the stellar Magritte exhibit, I had the opportunty to view the exhibit "American Modern: Hopper to O'Keeffe." Pulled from the museum's own collection, this exhibit showcases American art created between 1915 and 1950. The exhibit is beautifully curated and serves as a reminder of the incredibly dynamic country we live in as seen through the eyes of the culture's best observers, artists. America is a grand idea and millions of moments all at once: From the grassy plains of the midwest Georgia O'Keeffe's flowers of New Mexico, to the streets of New York, we are all different but also the same. Politics aside, this lovely exhibit made me feel all Fourth of July. It might not have been Paris, but formidable artists producing in the US in the first half of the 20th century.

Georgia O'Keeffe, Evening Star, No. III (1917). 

Andrew Wyeth, Christina's World (1948).

Ben Shahn, Handball (1939).

Charles Sheeler, American Landscape (1930). Credit.

"American Modern" runs until Jan 26, 2014, and "Magritte" runs through January 12, leaving plenty of time to pay MOMA a visit to take in these fantastic exhibits. Stay for the museum's out-of-this-world permanent collection, and it's enough to fill an entire day! Even taking the permanent collection out of the equation, "Magritte" and "American Modern" are the perfect remedies for any gray winter day (or a perfect excuse to steal away from the Christmas crowds for a few hours). Magritte's paintings are particularly perfect for lifting your spirits and stimulating your mind, and, as I suspect, Surrealists have more fun. Plus, I firmly believe that New York City is a Surrealist's playground. As Magritte said, "To be a surrealist means barring from your mind all remembrance of what you have seen, and being always on the lookout for what has never been.” I can't think of a place more suited to that experience than New York!

On Sunday mornings between 11am and 1pm, visitors can pay what they wish to enter the Frick. The museum is open until 5pm, which leaves plenty of time for wandering in and out of the Collection's many rooms. When I arrived, the line wrapped around the block, but it moved steadily. The line was likely a little longer than usual because, as I pleasantly discovered upon my arrival, it was the very first weekend to view the Frick's newly arrived, traveling exhibition on loan from the Hague: Vermeer, Rembrandt, and Hals: Masterpieces of Dutch Painting from the Mauritshuis. 

The Dutch exhibition was on view in a few rooms toward the back of the museum, giving me the opportunity to walk along the long, beautifully decorated fountain in the center. A glass ceiling covers this area, and rounded ceilings cover the rest of the rooms. Throughout the mansion, the decorating is stunning exquisite. The furniture, the walls, the doors all hold ornate little details that mesh well with the paintings and sculptures on display. No photography is allowed in the museum, so I've pulled the below examples from the internet.

In the Dutch exhibition, the largest crowd was understandably surrounding Johannes Vermeer's famous painting, Girl with a Pearl Earring. I've never seen it  in person, only printed on posters or in books. In person, the light and the play of the shadows is clearer, even in the small painting. The girl depicted is unknown, but she is beautiful, with a rich expression on her face. She looks right at you. Girl with a Pearl Earring is an example of a tronie, a subcategory in Dutch portrait painting that features idealized faces, exaggerated expressions, and exotic embellishments. Eight of Vermeer's paintings fall into this category. 

Johannes Vermeer, Girl with a Pearl Earring Credit: Wikipedia

Paintings from other Dutch masters lined the rich red walls of the exhibit. I love landscape paintings, and I was particularly drawn to Jacob van Ruisdael's View of Haarlem with Bleaching Grounds (1670-75). Landscape paintings thrived during the Dutch Golden Age. In View of Haarlem, the artist altered some of the features of the actual landscape in order to fit his imagination, according to information provided by the Frick. Regardless how true to life it is, the sky is absolutely breathtaking. The land below is depicted with intricate detail, but it is overpowered by the striking sky. The artist expertly plays with the delicate light on the clouds.

Jacob van Ruisdael's View of Haarlem with Bleaching Grounds Credit: Wikipedia

While landscape paintings flourished during the Dutch golden age, history paintings were highly regarded. And no one was more of an expert than the painter Rembrandt, the "master of light." In his Simeon's Song of Praise (1631), the light focuses on the Holy Family, but the spotlight falls on Simeon and his vivid expression of wonder and reverence. The rest of the scene fades into the background, clearly not as important as this significant moment. 

Rembrandt, Simeon's Song of Praise Credit: Wikipedia

Vermeer, Rembrandt, and Hals: Masterpieces of Dutch Painting from the Mauritshuis is a must-see, particularly for the Rembrandts and for the captivating Girl with a Pearl Earring. But even if you come for this world-class exhibit, you must stay for the world-class art that lives in the Collection every day. According to the Frick's website, the paintings in the museum are primarily landscapes and portraits, reflecting the tastes of Henry Frick. The scupltures on display are mainly culled from the Italian Renaissance. I was blown away at the breadth of movements represented. Just some of my favorites included El Greco's St. Jerome, Titian's Self-Portrait, James Mallord William Turner's Antwerp (I always had a soft spot for the way Turner presents light), and The Rehearsal by Degas. The art was spread throughout the mansion, each room full of masterpieces but never too crowded. It was the perfect mesh of cozy and sophistication, and it's incredible to think that a family was once so lucky to live among the art.

I'll definitely be back. The Dutch painting exhibition will be on display until January, and I can't wait to see to see what follows. But even without any special exhibits, the Frick is the perfect place to wander through (especially Sunday mornings) and get lost in the art and the memories of New York City's long gone GIlded Age.

**Fun Fact** When he died, Henry Frick left behind 137 paintings. Since he built the property, he had always intended that it become a public museum following his and his wife's deaths. Time Spent: Two hours On the web: Just like the Collection, the Frick's website is world class. Follow them on Facebook and Twitter, too. Hours: Tuesday through Saturday: 10am to 6pm Sunday: 11am to 5pm Admission: Adults: $20 Seniors: $15 Students: $10 Sunday mornings between 11am and 1pm are "pay-what-you-wish." Contact: Email: [email protected] Phone: (212) 288-0700 Address: 1 East 70th Street New York, NY 10021

Dia:Beacon (full name: Dia:Beacon, Riggio Galleries) inhabits an old Nabisco factory. It has three floors and lofted ceilings and is the perfect location for the contemporary pieces that inhabit its rooms. Dia:Beacon was opened by Dia Art Foundation in 2003 to hold its art collection consisting of major pieces from the 1960s to present. Dia Foundation was founded in 1974 to support individual artists, particularly those whose pieces wouldn't fit in traditional museums. Along with Dia:Beacon, Dia Foundation has a satellite site in Chelsea (Manhattan) and sites throughout the country.   

Many of the pieces housed within Dia:Beacon wouldn't fit in a conventional museum simply due to their immense sizes. These pieces are truly modern, many gathered in the 70s and 80s and walking a gray line between painting and sculpture. Most were breathtaking.

Unfortunately, photography was not allowed in the museum, but photos could never tell the whole story anyway. I often say in these entries, "A photograph just wouldn't do it justice," but with these pieces, I truly, truly mean it. In college, I took an art history class covering the art world from 1940-1980, and we studied many of the artists whose pieces line the galleries within Dia:Beacon. I now understand that I did not truly appreciate these pieces until seeing them in person. Many of them are too large, too intricate for their true brilliance to shine through on a projector slide. 

Within Dia:Beacon, each artist was given his or her own gallery room or space. The entrance opens into a long hallway lined with the large, brightly colored, painted forms of Imi Knoebel. Overall, there were 28 artists on display, but the museum never felt crowded. The museum was almost like a maze; it was so easy to get lost in each art room. 

In one room, the scultptor Michael Heizer has created large openings in the floor lined with metal, a technique deemed "negative sculpture." Each quiet abyss invokes an emotional feeling of something missing, and there is luckily a small barrier between the sculptures so that no visitors accidentally fall in!

Robert Smithson's pieces blurred the lines (as many of these pieces did) between art, sculpture, and construction. Smithson employs unique materials not commonly associated with sculpture--like sand, dirt, and mirrors. Each sculpture consists of a mound of different kinds of sand and dirt mixed together with mirrors arranged on top of the piles. The mirrors are beautifully shattered; the delicate pieces sit seamlessly on top of the coarse earth.

I wasn't familiar with Richard Serra before visiting Dia:Beacon, but my friends were. Serra is a sculptor known for creating large structures out of sheet metal, and his Union of the Torus and the Sphere (2001) and Elevational Wedge (2001) at Dia:Beacon are no different. The giant sculptures look almost like they are part of a building long forgotten, weathered by external elements. Only, they are not housed outside; they crowd and over power the rooms that dare to hold them. It is an interesting take on space.  

I wandered in and out of the museum's rooms, endlessly fascinated. As expected, one of the most popular rooms belonged to Andy Warhol, whose captivating paintings of shadowy forms imposed on colorful backgrounds lined a long hallway. However, my favorite section belonged to the artist Sol LeWitt and his ongoing (since 2006) exhibition. His works are utterly breathtaking. His exhibit is a part of the museum itself; he has drawn carefully created 3D structures right on the wall, graying the line between canvas and art as well as painting and sculpture. The building is his canvas. LeWitt's "Drawing Series" exhibit is comprised of a few grand works, all making use of lines. It sounds so simple, but LeWitt draws with such mathematical execution that it is nothing short of amazing. One section consists of lines drawn on a giant wall in various ways--some wavy, some some straight, some dotted. One wall features quilt-like squares, and it isn't until you approach the images up close that you can see each is made up of perfectly placed lines. On another giant wall, thin lines criss-cross each other, connecting in various ways, each meticulously plotted. "Drawing Series" is a working example of right and left brain brilliance. 

I could go on and on about Sol LeWitt and his lines forever, but as I mentioned earlier, no words or images on a computer or in a lecture hall could ever fully convey this type of art. You must go see these pieces in person, and I can't recommend Dia:Beacon enough. It may be outside the art capital of the world, but it's so easy to get to and is the perfect day trip escape (especially in the fall). And, if you do visit on a lovely autumn day, I'd recommend a quick trip down the road to Fishkill Farms to get your fill of apples and apple cider donuts after you've had your fill of innovative, unique, thoroughly modern art.

**Fun Fact** The building housing Dia:Beacon used to be a Nabisco factory. That's right, Nabisco, as in the prolific creators of Chips Ahoy! and Oreo cookies (isn't your mouth watering just thinking about it?). Alas, before you get too excited that there is a secret room full of cookies still somewhere in the museum, know that the factory was used for printing boxes. Time Spent: Two hours On the web: Dia:Beacon's website is well-curated, and you can also explore the Dia Art Foundation as a whole. They are also on Facebook and Twitter.  Hours:  January–March: Friday–Monday, 11am–4pm April–October: Thursday–Monday, 11am–6pm November–December: Thursday–Monday, 11 am–4 pm Admission: General: $12 general Seniors: $10 seniors Students: $8 students Free for Dia members and children under 12  If you are located in NYC, look into the MTA Getaway package for a special deal. Contact: Dia Art Foundation Email: [email protected] Phone: (845) 440-0100  Address: 3 Beekman Street  Beacon, NY 12508 

Since I unfortunately don't have any art photos, perhaps a few environmental ones will suffice--The gorgeous Hudson Valley and a nearby pumpkin patch.

I arrived at the museum at 5:15 to find a line that at first seemed endless, but which I soon discovered ended almost at the corner of Madison Avenue. As I waited, I overheard the meshing of accents and languages as well as rumblings of the James Turrell exhibit, the Guggenheim's current highlight. Considering the line was longer than past lines I've experienced on Saturdays at Guggenheim, I had high expectations for this exhibit, which closed at the end of September. I was not disappointed. Luckily. it was a beautiful fall evening on a beautiful Upper East Side block, and the line moved quickly. 

Designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, the Guggenehim building is a piece of art in itself, with giant round structures seemingly placed on top of one another, looming over 5th Avenue and Central Park. Inside, it's unlike any other museum I've been in. After stepping through the lobby and into the true ground floor of the museum, a visitor can walk up the ramp around each rotunda, up to a 6th level, all the while with a view over the railing through the center of the museum to the ground floor below. Depending on the exhibit, art lines the walls of the rotundas, though on this particular Saturday night, the walls became parts of James Turrell's major exhibit piece, Aten Reign. Smaller exhibits and collections (some permanent) live in the Annex rooms off of the rotundas.

For fifty years, the artist James Turrell has been creating installations that, according to the Guggenheim guide, "explore perception and materiality of light." Photography isn't allowed in the museum, but photos would not to justice to Turrell's presentations of light anyway.

Aten Reign, the exhibit's focal point, was constructed using the circular walls of the rotundas. The work is best viewed from the ground floor of the museum, looking up (there is even a mat on the floor in the center of the room for people to lay on). How to describe it? From the bottom to the top of the museum, the circular walls emanate soft, unobtrusive light that gradually changes (whites, blues, and more). It is extraordinary. Gazing upward, I thought I was peering up into heaven and half expected angels to fly down from the ether. As the light changed, we were all suddenly deep, deep under the ocean. And in another moment, the tint of the light made me certain that we were seconds away from an alien invasion.

Aten Reign was constructed specifically for the Guggenheim and, according to the guidebook, "was one of the most dramatic transformations transformations of the museum ever conceived..."

While Aten Reign was, hands down, my favorite part of my Guggenheim visit, my second favorite part of Saturday was the audience. After a few minutes of art immersion, I looked down from the heavens to look at the faces of the people looking up toward the sky. Each face was as bright as the light enveloping the walls. I don't know if I've ever seen such wonder and awe (and so many smiles) in the presence of an art piece. It was inspiring. 

Due to its sheer size, Aten Reign the center point of the exhibit, but there were more of James Turrell's light creations placed throughout the museum. Each uniquely and beautifully examines perceptions of light and depth. Afrum I (White) (1967) is the projection of a cube in the corner of a wall; it looks at once like a floating 3-D block as well as a recess in the wall. Turrell's Selections from the Porfolio 'First Light' (1989-90) was influenced by the works of Francisco de Goya, which I sense in bold lines and sharp shapes. 

Besides the James Turrell Exhibit, the Guggenheim houses both permanent collections and smaller exhibits. The Thannhauser Collection, in Annex 2, includes modern art treasures from the likes of Cezanne, Picasso, Seurat and Gaugin. If I had to live in any painting, I would want to live in a world painted by Cezanne. Annex 3 is hosting a "Kandinsky in Paris, 1934–1944" exhibit until April 2014. The exhibit presents paintings from the last 11 years of Kandinsky's life, when, according to the Guggenheim's website, he "softer, pastel hues—pink, violet, turquoise, and gold—reminiscent of the colors of his Russian origins." Soft or not, I always enjoy the opportunity to view the captivating colors of Kandinsky.

Two hours may not seem like a long time, but it was the perfect amount of time in which to peruse the museum with the crowds of people congregating on Saturday. I left the magnificent structure feeling satisfied, buoyed by the light of James Turrell. 

The James Turrell Exhibit is truly unique and was truly at home in the Guggenheim. Unfortunately, it closed last week, but James Turrell is currently showing art in places around the country, as listed on his website. I was lucky to have caught the Guggenheim exhibit at the tail end of its showing. In their brilliance, these awe-inspiring presentations of light captivate the viewer in ways that few other pieces art can. The light from the art awakens the light in the viewer.

With a focus on modern and contemporary art, the gallery space was small but well-kept, and from the looks of the sign-in book, well-visited. It consisted of a large room off the entrance way that holds most of the gallery’s current paintings on the clean white walls. The gallery is an active one; it has been not only buying and selling art for over 40 years, but it also offers a myriad of related services to its clients. The inventory on its walls likely changes frequently, but during my visit, there were about 10 paintings on display throughout the exhibition room and the reception area. The small number of pieces allowed each work of art to be separated into its own space, which in turn allowed for a more focused viewing experience.

There was an interesting mix of artists represented from both East and West; there were some names I recognized and some I did not. An Andy Warhol painting hung on the wall behind the reception desk, and a small Damien Hirst piece hung on a wall across from it. I liked that the gallery was broadly focused; although it emphasizes contemporary art, it does not restrict itself to certain specific styles or artist backgrounds.

My favorite painting in the gallery was the one which first caught my eye, Aggregation 02-0C0022 by Kwang-Young Chun. Chun is an artist from South Korea, and further investigation reveals that this work is part of his Aggregation Series (more information here), for which he is internationally acclaimed. This particular piece is constructed out of Korean mulberry paper. Aggregation is truly contemporary as it is both painting and sculpture at once. With its abstract mountains and valleys, it reaches out to the viewer in a fast-paced fury. It’s static and dynamic, an active moment frozen in time. Its muted reds, browns, and grays said “fall” to me, which felt appropriate on a September day.

The gallery held a few pieces by Takashi Murakami, an artist with which I was not familiar but gladly am now. He is the force behind the "superflat” movement, a broadly defined, contemporary movement that describes “flattened forms of Japanese graphic art, animation, pop culture and fine arts;” it’s influenced by traditional Japanese art forms as well as those of postwar era. Murakami’s Jellyfish Eyes (2002) appeared as a quintessential superflat piece. In the painting, orbs float around a round canvas in a circular motion as if floating in a fishbowl. The colors are bold and sure, and the painting has a definite flatness despite the assumed slow movement of the eyeballs.

A second Murakami painting, Minyun (1997), seemed less in line with his superflat style, which makes sense as it was created before the first superflat exhibit in 2001. In Minyun, on a brilliant red background, two quick flashes of yellow break through the rhythm in a chaotic display of light. I love, love red in paintings (my favorite painting of all time is Matisse’s The Red Room), and this painting is no different. The vibrant painting sings of optimism and hope and light in a flash.  

On its website, the gallery doesn't have future exhibits listed, but I will be on the lookout for any new ones. Its list of artists represented in the past is quite impressive, and my first visit whet my appetite for whatever the gallery plans to promote next. That being said, you don’t need an exhibit to go, and you shouldn't wait for one. If, on a lazy Saturday, you find yourself on 79th Street on your way to a Central Park picnic, make the quick stop into cozy Michelle Rosenfeld Gallery, and feed your art appetite first.

**Fun Fact** Michelle Rosenfeld Gallery has sold works by such prolific artists as Henri Matisse, Pablo Picasso, Andy Warhol, and Camille Pisarro. The full list is here. Time Spent: Twenty minutes On the web: http://michellerosenfeldgallery.com/ Hours: The gallery’s spring/summer hours are: 11am – 6pm: Tuesday through Friday 11am – 6pm: Saturday Admission: Free! Contact: Email or call 212-734-0900 Address: 16 East 79th Street (Between Fifth and Madison) New York, New York 10075

Aggregation 02-0C0022 by Kwang-Young Chen (2007). 

Jellyfish Eyes by Takashi Murakami (2002).

One of my favorite pieces in the room was the horse, standing tall toward the center of the room and completely adorned with armor. On its back sat a knight, poised straight and ready. The horse armor belonged to the horse of Duke Ulrich of Wurttemberg and was for use on the battlefield.

The rooms adjoined to the main hall held an impressive display of other weaponry, specifically guns and swords. Each window case delicately presented each item with corresponding background information. The weapons are an interesting study in contrasts. These tools were designed to provoke fear, and if necessary, maim or kill. However, they have been so beautifully and intricately designed and are now resting in museums as works of art. I suppose that overall, they were created to inspire wonder--whether wonder in their power to kill or wonder in their expert design. 

I may not be a connoisseur of armor or European battles of the Middle Ages and Renaissance, but I can absolutely appreciate the effort that went into designing the arms and armor. Not only did these items have to withstand the battlefield, they needed to look beautiful as well and convey the importance of the owner. The halberds, guns, swords and knight armor are awe-inspiring, hundreds of years later. Clearly, the Museum does its collection justice. If only for a few minutes, visitors are swept back in time to the age of fairy tales.

**Fun Fact** According to information provided at the Museum, Noel-Nicolas Coypel’s painting, The Abduction of Europa (below) once belonged to a Joseph Bonaparte, none other than the brother of Napoleon Bonaparte himself. After Napoleon fell from power, Joseph resided in Philadelphia. Time Spent (Collection Only): 30 minutes On the web: www.philamuseum.org. The website is amazing. You can view tons of the museum’s paintings right online and read inside information about each one. Hours: Tuesdays through Sundays from 10am-5pm. Fridays until 8:45pm. Admission: Adults: $16 / Seniors (ages 65 & over): $14 / Students (with valid ID): $12 / Children ages 13–18: $12 / Kids ages 12 & under: Free. First Sunday of each month is pay what you wish! Contact: Phone: (215) 763-8100. Email: General Information. Address (Main Building): 26th Street and the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, Philadelphia, PA 19130 You can find the Philadelphia Museum of Art on Facebook and Twitter. Make sure to “follow” and “like” the Museum!

House Armor of Duke Ulrich of Wurttemburg; For use in the field; 1507

Boy's armor