Whitney Museum

On Monday I finally made it to the new Whitney Museum of American Art. I had been to the old Whitney once, to see its final show on Jeff Koons, and I had been wanting to see the new space ever since it opened. I was wary of the crowds, but I had Monday off (happy Sukkot!) and some friends were already planning to go.

The building is shiny and new, although we immediately had some gripes about the flow of traffic—we tried to take the stairs but were forced to take the elevator—and only two of the galleries were open. The other galleries will reopen in October with new exhibitions, but there were some great things to see in the permanent collection. There were also some pieces of abstract art that make me groan—metal poles leaning in corners, entirely black canvas squares—but the pop art collection was entertaining.

I absolutely loved Women and Dog by Marisol, as can be expected from a work that includes, a "taxidermic dog head," heads with multiple faces and a random hand. I also liked the giant Claes Oldenburg ashtray and cigarette butts because larger-than-life soft sculptures of everyday objects are totally my jam.

The outdoor spaces at the Whitney are just as, if not more, impressive than the current art collection. There are multiple balconies featuring excellent views of the rooftops, Highline and buckets full of meat scraps below. It's an interesting statement on modern/abstract art that they had to erect signs warning patrons that the sculptures on the terraces are actually art and not, in fact, benches.

But in a museum that houses Warhol, de Kooning and O'Keefe, my favorite piece of American art was Leonardo DiCaprio, who I quite awkwardly noticed when I turned around and found myself inches away from his face. For a little over an hour, we then proceeded to watch him (and his model/actress girlfriend) look at the art—and what's more American than that?