Visiting new museums, one can often suffer fatigue from the pressure to see it all and document it. Overwhelmed and under pressure to put yourself in front of all the masterpieces, capturing every photo and all of the proof.
But yesterday was different. I can feel myself exhale, just in the typing now. I have been to the Minneapolis Institute of Art countless times. I know where to park. Where the bathrooms are. The steps to the Impressionists. And it can still make my heart jimbly in the most delightful way, without all the pressure. I can wander France in front of the Cezanne. Laugh in front of the painting that my friend’s husband says looks like the two of us, though neither of us thinks the same. I circle the portrait room and imagine one of mine just beside the Alice Neel or the Andrew Wyeth. I view the skyline. Levitate through the shop. Never a photo taken. The gift is, I don’t have to prove that I’ve been here, I just get to be.
I suppose that’s home, isn’t it? Where your heart can rest, and your mind can wander. Thank you, Minneapolis. We’ll be back.
March 31, 2025 at 2:36 pm
Love this and miss you already!
Love,
Minneapolis
xoxoxo
March 31, 2025 at 9:03 pm
“Visiting new museums, one can often feel fatigued by the pressure to see it all and document everything—overwhelmed by the need to stand before every masterpiece, capture every photo, and gather all the proof.” – I can totally relate! And then, at some point, the experience stops being enjoyable, and visiting places starts feeling like an obligation rather than something done for the joy of it.