I recently went to New York for a week. It was snowing, but I went through the museums of modern art that subjugated me with ideas and colors, shapes, highlighted in majestic volumes. The city is not so big in Manhattan, everything is vertical.
Moma, MET, Guggenheim, and even the Whitney Museum of American Art. This is an intiation journey, for a French girl's head turned to the sky, to stare the century-old buildings peaks drawing terraces staged several hundred meters above.
Art is also in the street, on multicolored and improbable frescoes. A grinning bull dog, writhing hands, a replete mama, geometric structures that plunge into street facades. Or simply stones are missing, and yet are there, the artist got us.Read the whole story