There is something about the moment you walk into a museum that is moving. Usually you enter

into some vast room, filled with bustling people and sneak peak art pieces. You feel a heaviness

in your stomach, realizing that theres something going on here thats bigger than yourself. When

I enter a museum, I feel as if I’m entering a new acquaintances home. You’re excited and antsy,

barrages of information leaving you anxious, as well as modest.

The Brooklyn Museum was no different. The moment I walked into that enormous hall on the fourth

floor I became excited. I thought the text message T.V gimmick was down right silly. How did they

not think kids were going to text the most outrageous and immature things to put on the screen?

But anyways, I felt as if I had just begun an adventure. I believe that museums are the greatest when

you walk around alone. I couldn’t wait to finish the recorded assignments  so I could go off on

my own. No one looks at a painting the same way, so I see no use in needing a companion. Although

exchanging opinions can be enlightening, I wanted to really focus on the artwork individually, and

try my best to interpret what the image meant to me.

Its pretty funny what ended up catching my eye. Out of the whole experience, I really enjoyed the

room that was set up to resemble a warehouse where they store all the pieces. I thought it was such

a cool way to display the art. In an manner that the general public does not usually have the

opportunity to see. I felt like I was in the famous warehouse at the end of Indiana Jones, filled with

history’s greatest secrets and treasures. Even though the majority of the pieces were house

utilities from the 20th century.