When I studied abroad, I forced my ass out of bed early every weekend and went exploring. And taking a modern art class in Paris encouraged me to check out most of the major, must-see museums. I touristed, guys. I touristed like a big, fat touristing thing.
(Speaking of Paris, I nearly had a run in with some art at the Pompidou during a class trip—after returning from an all nighter in Prague, I started nodding off in the direction of one of the works. Afterwards, I schlepped home, took off my clothes, got into bed and cried with exhaustion and relief that I could finally go to sleep.)
I do an okay job of seeing the sites in New York, but it's been a long time since I tried a new museum. After sleeping in this morning, I pried myself off the couch and decided it was the perfect day to visit the Guggenheim.
Thanks to the aforementioned modern art class in Paris, I've seen a good amount of the stuff. Dada manifesto? I speak it. I was excited to see the Guggenheim, because I know they have a solid collection, plus a little side gallery of Impressionists.
I was not disappointed. The main gallery was doing the usual suspects (Pollick, De Kooning, Rothko) and there was a Kandinsky retrospective to boot.
The gallery is laid out in a big spiral and reaching the pinnacle does bring with it a sense of accomplishment. Look at me! I climbed the Gugg! I HAVE done something today!
Plus, Shake Shack after. Come on.
And so I am glad to have touristed my own city today. I still want to see Fireflies on the Water by Yayoi Kusama at the Whitney and cross the bridge into Long Island City for PS 1. And I imagine the New Museum is like the Palais de Tokyo—weiiiird shit—so that's on my List too. Three cheers for being half an hour away from WORLD CLASS ART, GUYS.