This morning, I flew to Milwaukee, the start of a Midwest trip on the trail of outsider art and friends and family. I met up with my friend Judy at the airport and within minutes of collecting a rental car, we were on our way to the Milwaukee Art Museum. It’s a place I have not visited in decades but have never forgotten. Some buildings stay with you, and this is one of them. I wasn’t sure if it would match my fond memories. It does.
Set along the edge of Lake Michigan, the museum feels as though it belongs as much to the landscape as to the city. Its most striking feature, the Burke Brise Soleil, opens and closes like a set of enormous wings. Designed by Santiago Calatrava, the building is all movement and light, a structure that feels almost alive. Inside, the soaring, white, cathedral-like space is flooded with natural light.
The architecture alone would be worth the visit, but the collection more than holds its own. The museum spans centuries and continents, with strengths in European painting, American art, and decorative arts. I of course head to the folk-art collection. There is also a vibrant collection of Haitian art, unexpected and full of energy. We didn’t have much time, so we moved quickly, sampling the collection, a bit of modern art, some elevated craft, glass so beautifully displayed it seemed to pull the lake indoors.
What I appreciate most is the sense of balance. The museum never feels overwhelming. The galleries unfold at a comfortable pace, with occasional glimpses of the lake offering a moment to pause and reset.
We left as the museum was closing. At 5pm the “wings” slowly fold
back from their outward stretch to cradle the building. It’s graceful, like the building exhaling at the end of the day.
We’re spending the night in Sheboygan. More on that tomorrow.