The National Museum of the American Indian is an extraordinarily beautiful and grand building, located at the southern tip of Manhattan. I visited on an extremely windy day, and I could almost feel the water from New York Bay hitting my face as I walked towards the museum. 

I had no idea you could freely walk around an auction house, surrounded by objects that people and institutions might soon buy. As I wandered through the rooms, I felt almost like a fraud for being there without any intention of purchasing anything. A few people were clearly just browsing like me, mostly classmates, but the rest seemed like actual collectors: people who might genuinely be deciding whether to acquire an Art Deco chair, a Basquiat sketch, or a Tiffany necklace.

I love the MoMA. The Museum of Modern Art. I also have to mention that I love their gift shop. It is incredible. So fun, so creative, and so colorful. I could stay there forever -if I didn’t have the MoMA itself right in front of me, of course.

I had never heard of June Leaf before visiting The Gray Museum to see the exhibition “Shooting from the Heart.” Now, in hindsight, I’m almost happy I had never heard of her. Well, sad, because I hadn’t known her work existed before now, and if I had, I might have been able to enjoy her work earlier. But also happy, because finding a new artist in the moment feels special. It’s nice learning something new, learning about someone new every once in a while.

It was my first time visiting the New-York Historical Society. The building itself was beautiful. It was grand and light. I walked around and around on the first floor exploring. Eventually, I stopped by New York, New York: The Elie and Sarah Hirschfeld Collection on the second floor, just past the staircase. This collection was filled with paintings of New York. Paintings of the empire state and subway stations. Some depictions were older and some were more modern.

Whenever I go back home to Sweden to visit my family, one of my favorite rituals is going to art exhibitions with my dad. He’s been involved in the art world for many years, so going with him always feels special. He knows what he likes and loves talking about it. Engaging both me and himself. What I admire most is how he’s always mostly curious about the person behind the work rather than the artwork itself. He really sees art as a reflection of the artist’s inner world. This always makes me more in tune with the idea of being grateful for sharing a vulnerable experience with the artist and how going into an exhibition is like being invited into someone’s brain. It’s special, and my dad is good at reminding me of that.

On Thursday, September 18th, I found myself heading uptown to The Met. A couple of days before, I had read an article in Time Out on the best exhibitions in New York on display right now, and lo and behold, in first place was Man Ray: When Objects Dream at the Met. When I asked my dad, one of the most creative and visually intellectual people I know, if he thought I should go see Man Ray, his text message answer was a simple “Yes” and “Cool.” That was all the confirmation I needed.

I didn’t really know what to expect before coming to the Morgan Library. I had heard of Pierpont Morgan before. I knew J.P. Morgan was a famous financier in the late 19th century, but I must admit, I underestimated him. I could never have imagined what I was about to see when I walked into his old library.