Arik
Google
You walk in expecting a modest little collection — a few paintings, maybe a dusty bust of someone important if you squint. And then suddenly, boom, they hit you with more art than the building can physically handle. It’s like the curators kept saying “Oh, and put this one up too” until every wall had the visual density of a Renaissance flea market.
Does it feel cluttered? A little. Do I care? Not really — if the choice is between “too much art” and “not enough art,” I know where I stand.
Now, about those little description signs: lovely idea, questionable execution. Sometimes the different language sections aren’t separated into paragraphs. It’s not a disaster, but after a while, you start reading everything twice.
The building itself is gorgeous — the kind of place you wish you could rent for a long weekend and pretend you inherited. Staff are friendly, the atmosphere is relaxed, and despite the occasional wall feeling like a visual game of Tetris, the experience is genuinely excellent.