Philadelphia Museum of Art

I went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art the other weekend- and I forgot how much I do actually love to walk around museums. I am not someone who views art very often. Its mostly because I am not a fan of the majority of work that is being shown, but also because I don't always find that much joy or education from galleries.

But then when I do go, and I am staring at a Degas painting and then discover his sculptures. And Cezanne is staring me in the face- I love it and say why don't I go more often.

I was looking at the prints-and I was just in love and said to myself, this is why I am an artist. But its like for me, the moment I step out of there-that inspiration leaves me.

I got in trouble. It was funny because I am very abide by the rules- look over the policies. But when I dressed in my cute skirt and polo and entered into the museum, I felt that I was in line-in the perfect attire with my little notebook, all ready to discover something new. Except that I brought with me a pen. As a printmaker, I am used to using pencils for everything- but I just never thought for some reason that I wouldn't be able to bring it into the museum. It makes sense now as to why- some people are clumsy and some people are rebels and others are rude.

My then forced search for a pencil at the information desk, ruined my groove. I was in the zone-I was loving the art work. I had my path all figured out- down the galleries on the right, up the center, down the left. I will say all the galleries I walked through after this incident-I just wasn't into it.

Luckily the pen scolding occured after the degas and cezanne.