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NYC - MoMA Edition



Oh hai.

Let's cut the wafty introductions I normally do.

Ahahaha. 

Anyway.

Ummm where was I.

Oh yes. The day we went to the Museum of Modern Art. With a couple of little interesting things before. 

Let's go.






This is the lovely south east corner of Central Park, along 5th Avenue. 

Ooh la la.

This here be the Plaza Hotel:


There's construction out the front. Surprise!

The Apple Store. Glass box, pretending to be a store.



Fun fact: this is the second most photographed building in NYC! (not sure which is the first, don't ask difficult questions)




And up.


Aaaaand down. ACTUAL MASSIVE STORE! SURPRISE!



Fancy things.


Fancy toy store. This is where I want to be.


Greeted by soldiers. Guarding Cinderella, maybe.


Cue Angel voices.


MAKE YOUR OWN MUPPET.



Evidently they're as excited as us.



Up time.



I like upstairs.
Yesss.


The girl section.


The boy section. (hooray! Gender stereotypes! Discussion for another time maybe)


But I found Batman, so all good.


In other excellent news: THERE IS A GIANT PIANO YOU CAN DANCE ON AND PLAY THINGS.



For a cool quarter mil, it's yours!

We went on it. Obviously. We played a successful rendition of chopsticks and the Rugrats theme. It was quite exhausting, actually.





Outside - another lovely day, wandering up 5th. 











Tiffany's Time.


Timeless.
Featuring: bored boyfriend chairs.


On Fridays after 4pm, the Museum of Modern Art has free admission. There's a line that goes around the block, but it only takes about 20 minutes to get in. Get onto that, if you're in town.



The line.
Line with a view.
Waiting, waiting.



Allons-y!







We went from the top down. Helicopter! Didn't find the sign saying what it meant, actually. Oops.


The best Warhol. Just in the corridor. 



So, there I was, just wandering around, absorbing some of the statuettes, attempting to work out huge canvasses painted one colour, when I turned around and BAM!! My favourite painting. Right there. The real thing. Just casually on the wall. Sure. We're going in that direction are we, MoMA?  Awesome.










Brb, sobbing. (warning: not an exaggeration. At all.)


Arrrgghhggggghhh. 


AAARRRRGGGGHHHHGGGGGGHH.



AND RIGHT OPPOSITE IT:



I really do mean right opposite; this bloke was literally screaming at the majesty of a starry night. 

Also, confusion, because this was done in pastel, and I swear it was painted and arg. But a nearby sketch proved that Munch did a Matisse and did a dozen versions of the same image in many styles and mediums. (or did Matisse do a Munch? Am not very good at art). 


At first I wasn't overly impressed with the Scream, until I looked at it further. And then saw more of Edvard Munch. This is called The Storm. So good.



Ugh, hooowww.





Further along: Monet. Sure. Why not. In a nutshell:


Featured: BLURRED NOTHING.



SURPRISE! It's a japanese bridge! HOW? HOW??


Obviously: Monet's stunning lilypads.



















More famous things.


This is a comment on torture, using chairs as victims.




Helicopter reprise.



One of those monochrome paintings I tried to decipher. Some of them I understood (but still unimpressed), some I did not and was rather irritated with. Others were actually kind of clever.


Rainforest. 
The Matisse.




One of the impressive ones: this is literally house paint and scribbled led pencil. But it is entitled, "Academy".

Oh, artist, you.




One of my favourite words.


Jackson Pollock. 


More Warhol. 


Fluorescent lights in a corner. Awesome.


Okay, this is good. This is the artwork, as interpreted and set up by the museum's curators (I have no idea how that works, don't ask. It's modern):



A wall pitted by a single air rifle shot. 

There was security guard who asked large groups of people at a time, "can you find it? Can you find it?  It took me a week staring at every inch of this wall, can you find it?" 





Found it. 





Artwork you can walk on. I like working on artwork. Especially when it can't convince me its stupidity has meaning. 


Stomping on this thing. There was only a tiny sign underneath the tag saying you could, and no one did until I started.








What, indeed?


And on that existential note, good night.



But! before you go - tonight is our last night in New York City. Tomorrow morning: Viva Las Vegas. 

I don't really have much to say, except NYC: you almost feel like home, and I'll see you soon. 

Maybe you can be my third home.

After Toronto, of course.




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