This is about my visit to the Met was supposed to be about my visit to the Met, but because of the condescending clerk who SHOULD have given us our tickets for free, and a classmate I traveled with’s strong sense of financial justice, we ended up leaving the Met without having even bought a ticket, but, seeing as I’m writing this, I did end up at a museum, if you could even call it that.
New York may be a crazy place to live where you have to exercise extreme caution, with a transit system that paradoxically is the best in the world while simultaneously being a nightmare for both commuters and employees alike; however, its vast size and desirability for status lends to the city’s appeal for businesses/attractions to set up, and conveniently, this meant that right down the block from the Met was the museum I ended up going to: The Guggenheim.
The clerk in the Guggenheim was eager to help us and made sure our tickets were free, while also explaining what our Cuny ids entitled us to at the museum, being free entry(very helpful, personable, and understanding, unlike the Met). Once inside, I was glad our entry was free as the works on display reminded of the works of a child a parent may put on the fridge, or take pictures of while saying, “Wow, you’re such an artist” despite the work being the same scribble done 5 dozen times on one canvas, or just a pile of rocks(both being actual works at the museum).
The museum’s shape itself, both outside and inside, was a jarring sight, a cork screw rising into the air, looking worse on the inside somehow. There were I think 6 labeled floors inside, and the floors were continuous in one giant spiral. The works were… abstract and very unique. None of them really spoke to me, unsurprisingly, and I felt no real connection to most of them as I couldn’t even begin to attempt to interpret them due to how random they were and how each work seemed to juxtapose the other works and even itself.
There at least was an elevator to save you the torture of having to go up and down the cork screw in the same trip, so thankfully after getting to the top floor I only had to walk it once.
The cork screw does however force you to walk down and see the multiple works painted on to glass and other mediums displaying alarming messages, so in this regard the architecture does add to one of the works.
Beyond the cork screw, there were side exhibits each showcasing works that apparently did not fit the general theme of the museum(no clue what the theme could have been in all honesty), and these side exhibits were more enjoyable as they were all tangible and unique works that seemed to take more effort than just a fleeting impulse to bring to life.
Many of these side works were paintings, and one was a knitted work that wasn’t a blanket, but instead a large design. The paintings especially were full of effort and love as they were painted in various eras and areas, while also portraying a variety of topics and history.
Despite my liking of these paintings, overall, I was left disappointed in the art that the museum chose to put in its main exhibit, with much of it being too elaborate or scatter brained to for any sort of narrative beyond, ”elaborate and scatter brained”, which, if that were the narrative, would be a rather poor and uninspired narrative. I did like the spiral itself because it was something I hadn’t experienced before, but beyond the initial introduction to it, it quickly lost its luster as I had to descend its singular floor.
My trip to the Guggenheim wasn’t exactly planned, and was not the worst, but it makes me question whether I can get a refund for my time, or sue for psychological damages caused by the art. I will definitely not return again of my own free will. It will ;however, always be thought of by me as better than the Met because the Guggenheim seemed to welcome my entry, likely desperate for someone to see their vision(whoever’s vision that museum was made in needs to see an ophthalmologist).
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