NEW YORK CITY 2026: MUSEUM OF MODERN ART (MoMA)

May 31, 2026

 On my third day in New York City, I met A & M at my new favorite bakery, Elbow Bread, then we took our morning treats to a park about a block away. It was really fun to sit on a bench and watch the residents of New York's Chinatown doing their morning exercises. One man was doing tai chi off to the side, a couple was playing badminton, and a group of about ten wommen were following a leader in a synchronized dance routine.  See a short video here.

M had an art opening that evening, so we said goodbye to her so that she could go do all the last-minute things that needed to be done, and A and I headed off for an artsy day.

We had gotten an early start because it was Memorial Day, and we knew the city would be bursting with the energy reserved for holidays. We made our way past massive St. Patrick's Cathedral, which takes up a full city block on Fifth Avenue between 50th and 51st street. However, I am not one to walk past a church when its doors are open, so I made a quick stop to take a look.

There was a service in progress, so we couldn't walk around inside, but I appreciated even this glimpse of St. Patrick's lofty Gothic Revival ceilings.

One of the wonderful things about NYC is the variety of architecture. Just down the street from St. Patrick's, for example, is the wonderful Art Deco-style International Building of the Rockefeller Center.

 

About this time we realized it was going to be very, very difficult to get to MoMA (the Museum of Modern Art), which we had planned to be our first destination. The Israel Day on 5th Parade was slated to move up Fifth Avenue between 62nd and 74th streets, starting at 11:30 AM. Activities were scheduled until 4:00 PM.  The theme of the parade was "Proud Americans, Proud Zionists."

However, a MASSIVE crowd had already gathered on the feeder streets of Fifth Avenue, and Fifth Avenue itself was closed to everyone, including pedestrians. It was wall-to-wall people on the sidewalks. Apparently it was a record turnout, and there was heavy NYPD security.

We tried several different intersections and could not get across. Finally, A pulled out an expired MoMA employee badge of some kind he had once used for work, and that got us passage to cross the street near the museum, where we then had to wait in line to get through a police check. I was waived right through, but A got the full pat-down treatment. Crazy!

It was such a relief to finally enter MoMA's serene, whispery halls and rooms. We  could not hear any of the outside cacophony. No wonder I was almost immediately drawn to this calming work by the German artist Tomma Abts, Uphe (2011) 

Also calming was Mike Kelley's Deodorized Central Mass with Satellites (1987) made of used plush toys purchased from thrift stores. Thirteen "satellites" made of a single dominant color surround the multi-hued main "central mass." The stuffed animals are mostly placed face-in, and the whole thing is surrounded by ten abstract "deodorizers" that release a pine scent.

Close-up of the "central mass":

. . . and one of the "satellites":

All that softness found stark contrast in the next room. We had just seen one of Richard Serra's massive sculptures in the Dia Beacon Museum the previous day, so it was fun to see this work, entitled Equal, consisting of eight forged-steel units stacked in pairs. Each solid form weights 40 tons. Imagine what engineering went into the museum floor to support 320 tons!

A new artist to me, Dana Claxton, is a Lakota and about my age. There were three of her works in a Headdress series showing a person wearing handmade and cultural items. I especially liked one entitled Connie (2019).

Not new to me is Henri Rousseau or his famous painting The Dream (1910).  I always love seeing in person the art that I have often seen in books.

Next up, a bronze sculpture, Moon Mad (1944) by Max Ernst, positioned in front of the marvelous Jungle Jungle (2021) by Mark Bradford. Also, we saw the first of many Jackson Pollock works in MoMA, White Light (1954):

I loved these large prints by Nigerian photographer Samuel Fosso. The person in each photo is actually Fosso himself, dressed up as iconic 20th-century political, intellectual, and cultural Africans. They are untitled, but that is Fosso as Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethopia on the left and as activist Angela Davis on the right.

Fosso as the Ghanian diplomat and UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan and as American boxer Muhammad Ali:

My trip to NYC happened to coincide with MoMA's special exhibit of one of my favorite artists: Frida Kahlo. Works by her on-again, off-again husband, Diego Rivera were also included.

One of my favorites in the show was Tree of Hope, Remain Strong (1946). It shows Frida sitting upright in traditional clothing and holding a medical back brace and a flag labeled with the painting's title. A second version of Frida lies on a guerney, her exposed back showing surgical cuts.

While the above shows  the physical and emotional split Frida experienced in her life, the painting below, Self-Portrait on the Border Bettween Mexico and the United States (1932), shows the two very different influences on her life--traditional Mexican culture and the industrial, technological influence of the United States.

The Wounded Deer (1946) shows Frida's face on the body of a stag with multiple arrows piercing its back and flank. Frida painted this portrait after a difficult spinal surgery failed to ease her chronic pain.

In another one of my favorites, My Grandparents, My Parents, and I (1936), Frida painted herself twice: in utero and standing in the courtyard of the family home.

Self-Portrait with Cropped Hair (1940) shows Frida with strands of her shorn hair on the ground around her and looking very masculine and independent after her divorce from Diego Rivera (and maybe wearing his suit). Fulang-Chang and I (1937) shows Frida with one of her pet spider monkeys.

Just for contrast, here is Diego Rivera's Self Portrait (1930). He was NOT an attractive fellow.

But Diego was a masterful artist. Here are Flower Festival: Feast of Santa Anita (1931) and Agrarian Leader Zapata (1931):

And here are the two of them together in a photo taken in 1946 in their home in Coyoacan, Mexico, which we visited in 2018. 

After Frida, I enjoyed Alice Neel's Benny and Mary Ellen Andrews (1972). It is so relatable.

Germaine Richier's somewhat creepy The Devil with Claws (1952) . . .

. . . somehow seems to fit perfectly with a Jackson Pollock splatter painting entitled Number 1A 1948 . 

I used to think anything that looked like thrown or drizzled paint was art by Pollock, but I'm learning more about other artists with similar techniques. Compare the next two paintings, for example. The first, Grades Carrières (1961-62) is by Joan Mitchell, and the second is an atypical work by Jackson Pollock, Echo: Number 25, 1951. I would have thought the first was Pollock and the second someone else.

Just like I thought this display case of desserts by was Wayne Thiebaud, whose paintings of treats I've always loved. Nope! It is Pastry Case, I (1961-62) by Claes Oldenburg, the guy famous for his outdoor sculptures that include a giant spoon holding a cherry and an enornous shuttlecock.

I did recognize this as a work by Jasper Johns because there are many that are similar. This is Flag 1954-55. However, I didn't know Johns made it out of a cut bedsheet, oil, paint, and pigment mixed with melted wax. He dipped strips of cloth and newsprint into the hot wax then attached them to the sheet to create the outline of a US flag.

Current (1964) by Bridget Riley is a little trippy. Stare at it too long and the lines start to move.

No modern art collection is complete without some Andy Warhol repetitions. In this case it is Campbell's Soup Cans (1962).

I recognize the piece on the easel as a reproduction of a Piet Mondrian painting, but what is this about? George Segal's Portrait of Sidney Janis with Mondrian Painting (1967) pays homage to a legendary art dealer who actually purchased this painting!

The painting on the easel is similar to another one by Mondrian in another room in MoMA: Composition No. II, with Red and Blue (1929):

Here is another Mondrian found in yet another room in the museum: Cosmopolitan C (1920). It might be my all-time favorite by the artist.

A few years ago we visited several sites in New York and Texas that were important in the life of American sculptor Donald Judd, so I feel like I have gotten to know him and his work. This painted steel piece is Untitled (1968).

Here are works by two artists I've already mentioned in this post but who never cease to amaze or amuse: Giant Soft Fan (1966-1967) by Claes Oldenburg and Gold Marilyn Monroe (1962) by Andy Warhol.

Speaking of amazed and amused, that's how I feel about this work by Pablo Picasso, Woman Dressing Her Hair, which feels like it should be a 21st century painting but was actually created in 1940!

Then there is Thomas Hart Benton, whose colorful mural in the Truman Library and Museum is one of my favorites of his many works. There is something soulful about this black-and-white painting, Homestead (1938), completed at the height of the  Great Depression.

In the Spring (1939) seems a little more hopeful.

American artist Andrew Wyeth's most famous work is in MoMA: Christina's World (1948). A placard at the museum said this was Wyeth's attempt to depict the experience of a person with a disability. I didn't know that.

I'm faamiliar with Edward Hopper's Nighthawks, but House by the Railroad (1925) was new to me:

Would you guess this is by Pablo Picasso? He painted Three Women at the Spring in 1921.

Eleven years later his art looked more like this iconic image: Girl Before a Mirror (1932).

But this? Picasso? I would not have guessed that. The title, The Kitchen (1948), was also a surprise.

Lest you think Picasso had a straight line progression from realistic to abstract, check out this painting, Demoiselles d'Avignon, from 1907, long before the fairly realistic three women painting above: 

I love love love Alexander Caldwell's wire sculptures. These two are wonderful: Cow (1929) complete with three cowpies, and Sow (1928):

Gotta love the storytelliing of René Magritte. This is The Menaced Assassin (1927), and everyone seems to be a suspect!

Another Magritte, The Lovers (1928), shows a couple with definite relationship problems.

And one more Magritte, The False Mirror (1929):

Going back in time when looking at modern art is interesting. Self-Portrait in a Straw Hat (1875-76) by Paul Cézanne and The See of the Areoi (1892) by Paul Gauguin feel quite a bit more traditional.

And yet, Dance (1909) by Henri Matisse feels quite contemporary.

. . . as does Matisse's sculpture, Jeanette (1910 or 11):

This painting by Hilma af Klint is entitled The Swan (1915).  Yup, I double-checked the name. I'm still looking for the swan.

I would call this Octopus, but Georgia O'Keeffe called it Abstraction Blue (1927).

Did you think there is just one painting of water lilies by Claude Monet? Actually there are about 250.  MoMA has a room with five:

I do not know this artist (George Grosz) nor his subject (The Poet Max Hermann-Neisse 1927), but how can you not love this painting?

MoMA has my favorite Marc Chagall painting, I and the Village (1911):

I had forgotten that MoMA has Vincent VanGogh's Starry Night (1889), and I almost gasped when I walked into the room and saw it. With its enormous subject matter, I always assume it is a large work, but I include the photo below right to show how surprisingly small it is.

I looked up how in the world MoMa got its hands on Starry Night.  In 1941 they traded two Cézannes and a Toulouse-Lautrec for it. I think they got a very good deal.

MoMA also has the less famous Olive Trees (painted the same year as Starry Night, 1889). Sorry about the glare on my photo. The VanGogh paintings are under glass.

In addition to the Frida Kahlo special exhibit I mentioned earlier, MoMA had a special Marcel Duchamp retrospective. 

If you are interested, I think this blurb from the exhibit wall is worth reading:

We begin with something I can appreciate, Portrait of Dr. Dumouchel (1910). The glowing pink aura around his hand suggests . . . x-rays? healing?  An up-close view of the hand shows Duchamp's technique of using blobs of color.

Also painted in 1910 is Portrait of the Artist's Father. A positive figure in Marcel's life, his father looks like an affable, likable fellow.

For some reason I thought Nude Descending a Staircase (1912) was by Picasso. Nope! It is by Duchamp, and only two years after that portrait of his father.

This was interesting. It is a box that folds up and contains 68 miniature replicas/reproductions of various pieces of art. Duchamp started it in 1935-41 and finished it in 1963.

And of course, no Duchamp exhibit would be complete without his most famous work, Fountain (1917). Actually, the original porcelain urinal (signed "R. Mutt," like this one) was lost, but Duchamp approved and designated a total of 17 replicas in the 1950s and 1960s.

Time to move on to another, completely different museum. On our way out, we passed these people playing chess. Is it my imagination, or does New York City have more chess players than any other place in the world? They play in the parks and plazas as well as in the museums. I love it.

Back outside, this time we ran into a Chinese parade of some kind. Or maybe this was part of Israel Day on 5th. In addition to chess, New York seems to love a good parade.