To be perfectly and completely honest: I can’t stand jazz. I have always wanted an opportunity to learn about jazz, maybe even get into it, but after experiencing this concert I know it’s not for me. Every haphazard beat of the drums, every improvised piano solo, every note, made my heart palpitate. The quartet made me anxious. I felt like I was having mini heart attacks the whole night. It’s something about the way every instrument is playing at the same time and they go together but in such an odd way my blood just can’t beat normally. I hated it.

That being said, I’m so grateful I got the opportunity to experience it. Because despite the fact jazz puts my blood flow into irregular roller coasters of discomfort, I can appreciate it. Listening to each instrument on its own was a joy (except the drums, they were the main source of my distress). When I focused in on just the bass, just the sax, I got it. I understood the joy of each performer, the carefully practiced effortlessness that made them masters. It was only when I heard it all together that it sounded like a cacophony of fifty different beats and sounds.

More so than the music, I enjoyed the performers. There is no other way to describe them than cool. They were some cool cats. And they were one. They played in harmony (I didn’t feel that way but I could tell they were). Never was there a spot light on just one, and when there was, they each got to feel the light. You could feel the respect they had for each other, the love for the audience, the love in the audience. It was quite an experience. And although I hate jazz, I’m glad I actually had the chance to find that out, and I’m even more grateful that through my vehement reaction, I could still appreciate it.

Learning to see. Learning to recognize what I see, how I see it, and how to articulate and analyze this knowledge. This was my museum night.

Normally when I go to a museum I want to browse through the entire thing. See every object, skim every display case. I’ll stop every now and then at a piece that catches my eye and tugs at the artist in my heart. I have always longed to linger on theses pieces. I’ve always said to myself, “I’m gonna come back here one day and just sit in front of this painting, just look for hours at it.” But I never have.

Usually I go to art museums with my friends. I love going with them but the same thing happens every time: I either lag behind and get separated or I feel like I’m running to keep up instead of enjoying the art. At museum night I finally got to linger, finally felt what it was like to immerse myself into a singular piece of art, even if it wasn’t my favorite piece on Earth, the experience itself was amazing.

And that alone would have been rewarding enough.. The thing that really resonated with me was the social aspect of the night. Analyzing artwork with people was incredible. I can’t even count how many times someone in my group said something that made my jaw drop a little closer to the floor. The intelligence and passion coming from everyone, percolating together, and melding into new knowledge, new understanding, new enlightenment was an awesome thing to experience.

Elizabeth really impressed me. She noticed so many things that I never would have. She asked questions about the most seemingly insignificant things and never stopped. Actually none of us did. After we finished talking about two pieces we said ‘hey let’s do another.’ And even when we completed our third conversation we didn’t stop. Our entire way of looking at art was altered that night. Every piece we went by held our attention and when we found ourselves gathered around the same pieces we talked about them. The night was never about ‘let’s get this done so we can go home,’ it was ‘let’s really do this.’ And we did. And it was amazing.

I went to the Met last Sunday. I’ve always wanted to go there alone but I’ve never had the chance. I woke up Sunday morning and decided ‘today was the day.’ With my sketchbook and my camera I meandered around through the European paintings (took some selfies with Van Goh’s flowers and Monet’s waterlilies and posted them on Instagram) and once I got that out of my system I went to my favorite room in the Met: what I call the Heaven Room. Located in the Middle Eastern Art section it gets less traffic than the larger Egyptian and European wings. With a fountain in the middle of the room, gorgeous hand painted tiles of turquoise, white, and yellow, and lighting that makes you feel like you’re basking in the cool sun, this room transports me. I’ve always wanted to just sit there. Museum Night helped me do just that. Sunday I went to the Met and I sat in Heaven for an hour and a half.

Why did I choose Macaulay, and what has my experience been with art?:

**Sorry for the background.. I don’t know why I decided to record this in a parking garage..