guggenheim

My loves. Now, I don’t have kids yet. But my sister’s kids, ARE my kids. If you have nieces and nephews, you understand. You get to love them and spoil them, and most importantly, give them back at the end of the day.

My sister is an artist who frequents museums and galleries as an occupational hazard. On this occasion, she was headed to the city with her family to visit the Guggenheim for her upteenth time, akin to how our parents always took us as kids. She asked me to come with, knowing I had yet to visit this particular museum. I did mention the museum is my happy place.

So the six of us jump into the minivan and head out to the deserted city on this particular Memorial Day weekend. “Three adults and three kids, please” says my brother-in-law to the museum clerk. All kids partner with your designated adult. My niece and namesake picks me.

We go to the top floor to then make our way down, the only real way to experience the Guggenheim. We get about halfway down, and I see a cluster of people surrounding a piece in the otherwise desolate museum. I get closer and to my surprise and delight, they had Van Gogh’s The Starry Night on display. I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder and my sister tells me that it’s ‘OK’, very much like my mom would do to us as kids.. I let go of my niece’s miniature hand and to my astonishment, she wiggles her way to the front of the crowd for the best view and picture of the masterpiece.

My sister tells me the reason we had made the trip in the first place was for my niece, so she could see her favorite painting in person. She’s seven at the time. I ask my sister for my brother-in-law and the boys. She tells me her youngest is viewing his favorite, Jackson Pollock’s Alchemy. He’s five at the time.

It was heart-warming to see everything come full circle, and how the love of fine arts has been transmitted to the next generation of our family. 

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