A Morning at the Frick
January 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
The New New Yorker
by Courtney Hilden
One of the hardest things about being in New York is the constant reminder of how expensive everything is. In some ways, it’s a good thing, because you find yourself using things carefully and considering what is most important. But it also makes you one of those people who is always looking for something cheap or free.
Here I was at the Frick Collection, their one morning every week where they allow you to pay what you want to enter. The Frick Collection itself is one of those many rich-man-with-too-much-money things, like Hearst Castle or many of the characters in Running Wilde. Frick collected the majority of his art in the collection, and then set it up so that his home could house the art, and thus a temple of his great achievement in what is apparently being an eccentric art fiend. It’s a dazzling and wonderful collection, sure, but it does remind you that you are not as lucky as Mr. Frick; you do not have a house next to Central Park, filled with El Greco’s, Goya’s and Monet’s; the most famous image of Thomas Moore does not sit in your living room, next to the fireplace. You are at such a disadvantage that you are the young woman or man who was too cheap to pay the normal museum entrance fee (an outrageous sum, really, for a relatively small museum) and had to miss church to come on a Sunday to see the collection.