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The Metropolitan Museum of art has been a place I’ve returned to again and again over the years. I grew up on Long Island and escaped whenever possible in to the city. The Met, MOMA, Central Park…lucky girl. They all still feel like home.

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No matter how short the train ride from where I lived on the north shore to Penn Station, the anticipation would build to full, blown out excitement.

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I still feel that anticipation. And a visit last winter to the Metropolitan gave me the same feeling.  This time the trip was longer, and I took a plane rather than the train. It was absolutely frozen outside.  But inside it was golden. Huge boughs of forsythia were everywhere in the main lobby.

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The crowds shed their coats  and strolled under the yellow petals waiting for the day to begin.  It was like hearing an orchestra tune up before the concert starts.

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After plotting the course of the day throughout the museum and lingering for a few moments more under the spring flowers…

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finally they moved into the hallowed halls.

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What a perfect introduction to a magnificent museum.  This is “Overture: The Met” which I completed this summer.  It never gets old. The museum and painting in my studio are both wonderful.

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