I was planning on skipping the New Museum entirely -- after several friends declared its exhibits more or less "meh," I figured I would be okay with forgoing the $12 admission fee and leaving my exploration of a building that "speaks of a discernment about contemporary architecture that may promise equal astuteness about contemporary art" to a routine inquisitive glance in its direction during my weekly pilgrimmage to Whole Foods (aka The Hippest Supermarket Ever). But! On Thursday nights, entrance is free! So yesterday I at last paid my respects to "the kind of building that renews your faith in New York as a place where culture is lived, not just bought and sold," you know, a building that "captures an unnerving moment in the city’s cultural history with near-perfect pitch." Verdict: Although from outside, the New Museum really does just look like "a pile of six boxes, stacked unevenly, like a child’s blocks," inside, it's spacious and inviting (with saucy touches, like chartreuse! elevators). Are its exhibits "sincere and ironic, acutely self-aware, knowingly shaky, a little snarky, inwardly anxious, and uncertain about the future, but brashly passionate about art without pledging allegiance to any one style"? Possibly not, but I would totally party there anyway.
