In the summer after my first year of college, I considered some of my closest friends to be the statues in the Greek and Roman Art section of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Feeling emotionally disconnected from my high school friends and physically separated from my college friends, I was quite lonely.
As a remedy, I would tuck myself into a quiet corner of The Met and spend time with art instead of other people. I read The Secret History, a novel about a deranged group of Classics students, while sitting next to a display case full of ancient coins from the Roman Empire to melodramatically pass the time.
I have always loved art. My grandpa is an artist and an architect. He built my grandmother and himself a library in their house, and to no surprise, it is full of books about art. When I was little and wasn’t upstairs painting alongside him in the studio, I was flipping through the books and looking at pictures, choosing my favorite pieces. One of the most joyful parts of my life, to this day, is going to museums with my grandparents.
As I grew up, I sometimes thought about studying or working in the arts, because I spent so much time immersed in aesthetics. I never really considered it a feasible option until I took a Text and Ideas class during my first semester at NYU about the philosophy of art and aesthetics called “Why Art Matters.” I didn’t even read the course description while registering — an open core class is an open core class — but in the end, it opened my eyes to understanding that art is one of my true passions, prompting me to change my major from politics to art history.
Since then, I have visited New York City museums through the many ups and downs of college life — not only as a way to see beautiful art, but also as a way to find myself. It is unfortunately true that your 20s, while probably the most fun and exciting time of your life, are equally as emotional. While I qualify myself — at this point of my life — as a happy person, I also know that when I am stressed or sad, those emotions feel insurmountable. This is only natural. I, like most people, am still kind of figuring myself, and my life, out.
During the peak of midterms this semester, I felt myself losing sight of the bigger picture, feeling so stressed out that I was in despair. I was spending 14-hour days at the library — my life, even if for a short period, was small. I simply did not have time to do the things that I do each day to keep my anxiety disorder at bay — I stopped working out, journaling, being social and eating healthy — and it took a toll. I do believe that these rough exam periods are just part of the college experience, but I was moving like a robot through my life, and it was making me unhappy.
So, on the first free day I had after midterms, I went to go see art — and a lot of it — because I wanted to feel like myself again. I started the day by going to work at NYU’s Grey Art Museum, which to me still counts as a museum visit. I then went to the Whitney Museum of American Art with my mom, and then headed uptown to The Met with my friend.
I stumbled upon one of my favorite Henri Matisse paintings, “The Three O’Clock Sitting,” during this trip to The Met. The painting shows a female artist in a bright blue dress painting a nude model who stands atop a red box. In the background, there are bright paintings on the wall, and a small sailboat can be seen in the distance. Seeing this painting reminded me of the small joys in life — bright colors and messy compositions are my two artistic loves, and I felt such happiness in returning to this artwork after a rough time.
This was a recurring theme for the day — the small details reminded me why I love art. From Edgar Degas’ dancers to Thomas Cole’s natural landscapes, a wave of gratitude for the world at large hit me. I was no longer moving around with tunnel vision.
By looking at these artworks, I felt reconnected to myself. I remembered why I was doing what I was doing, and how lucky I am to be studying art — my true passion, even if it sounds cheesy.
Contact Alexa Donovan at [email protected].