Alexandra at the museum
That’s me a couple of years ago in New York, heading to some of the world’s best museums and galleries. In this Substack, I’m only writing about 2 of them - first, because they are pretty amazing, and second, because they’re literally the only ones I have photos of me wearing 2WO+1NE=2.
The Noguchi Museum
Visiting the Noguchi Museum was one of those things I’d had in the back of my mind forever. I’m deeply obsessed with Japanese art and culture, and when it comes to sculpture, Noguchi is kind of everything. One of the greatest sculptors, period. The museum itself is intimate and meditative, tucked away in Long Island, and it was actually conceived and built by Isamu Noguchi himself.
Over a lifetime of constant experimentation, he created sculptures, gardens, playgrounds shaped like mountains, furniture and lighting, ceramics, architecture, landscapes, and even stage sets for Martha Graham’s performances.
Inside, his work unfolds across two exhibition levels and into this serene, ivy-covered walled garden. You’ll see mostly abstract sculptures, alongside those perfectly smooth, solid forms, and, of course, the iconic paper lamps (the geometric, softly glowing lamps made from washi paper and bamboo) that have been copied endlessly.
The garden is a place I could spend hours in, either reading a book or just sitting there, staring at these massive stone monoliths in complete silence. It’s literally feels like a pocket of stillness inside one of the most vibrant cities in the world.
Noguchi was especially intentional about how his work interacted with nature. Turning the courtyard into a sculpture garden meant bringing in trees and plants with real character, since texture and form mattered just as much as the sculptures themselves. One of his favourites was a Japanese pine from Long Island that grew sideways after being shaped by hurricane winds. That detail kind of says everything about how he saw beauty.
Before you leave - strong recommendation - stop by the gift shop and get yourself an Akari light sculpture. Your home will thank you.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art
When it comes to museums, especially the really huge ones, I have this personal rule I call the “5-second rule” for looking at art. Basically, I give each piece 5 seconds (unless it’s an artist I’m obsessed with, then I break the rule, obviously). It’s my way of making it through the whole museum without spending all day there, especially when I’m in a city like New York which is my absolute favourite place in the entire world.
As for the little notes written on the walls next to exhibits…well, not all of them make it past my eyes and into my brain.
The Metropolitan is insane. Maybe the best museum in the world. I managed to see (almost) everything in 4 hours following my rule, which tells you how massive it is. Over 5,000 years of art from all over, with corridors and rooms that basically feel like a labyrinth. For me, walking through the Met was like opening an encyclopedia. If you remember that exact series of books our dads had ALWAYS in our childhood libraries, the “Papyrus Larousse Britannica,” and we’d dig through it for the creative school projects…yeah, that. Now imagine all of that info from all the books, merged into one giant Beaux-Arts space, right in the middle of Manhattan. That’s the Met.
Its collections are wild, spanning Egyptian temples, Greek and Roman sculptures, European paintings (Vermeer, Rembrandt), Islamic art, Asian ceramics, Arms & Armor, musical instruments, costume, impressive period rooms, and modern art…plus rotating special exhibitions. It’s a lot, but that’s what makes it so exciting. And that’s probably why I’m already looking forward to going back. The 5-second rule makes it easy to find new things every time you visit, even after a few years.
I’m ending this museum spiral with a view of my favourite museum. You can probably guess which one it is (no, not the Met). But I’m not saying the name, because that would open a whole other conversation, and its collection deserves an entirely separate Substack post. Like. A long one.
Stella at the museum
you are invited | Juergen Teller
The opening of an exhibition is rarely the right moment to truly appreciate it. Unless, of course, the exhibition is about photography rather than art in the traditional sense—particularly fashion photography and pop culture—where the opening becomes the perfect time and place to experience it. Onassis Stegi’s involvement alone sets the tone.
The exhibition featured some of Juergen Teller’s most iconic photographs, from Agnès Varda to Iggy Pop, and from Charlotte Rampling to Pope Francis. Alongside these were various series, personal projects, and a collaboration with his wife, Dovile Drizyte. Teller’s photographs are deliberately anti-polished. The flash is blunt, the framing often awkward, the bodies unidealised.
What is the common thread connecting them all? Humour.
Museum Collection + Julião Sarmento exhibition | Museum of Contemporary Art – MAC/CCB
This was one of the most memorable museum visits of my life —easily a top 3. Their permanent collection includes Constructivism, Dadaism and Neo-Dadaism, CoBrA, Surrealism, De Stijl, Cubism and Expressionism, to name just a few of the movements they house, all of which I hold very, very dear to my heart.
The curation felt deeply body-centered to me. Diagrams of the body, the body that leaks, its traces, and the study of human behaviour through gesture. At least, those were the works that drew my attention. I only realised this pattern after revisiting my photographs again and again, long after the visit itself.
BUT! The reason this museum visit is —probably— my favourite so far has nothing to do with rankings or retrospectives. During the temporary exhibition (the Julião Sarmento one) a live experimental band was performing as you moved through the space. It is an experience I will never, ever forget. I still can’t understand why every museum doesn’t do this; it transforms the entire visit, altering your perception and making the artworks feel different.
(Clearly I’m not Hitchcock)
Valisia at the museum
So, we were invited to the Takis Foundation for the presentation of a new issue of “Le Monde d’Hermès”, the annual magazine of the Hermès house. The kind of invitation that already sets the tone.
I’ve always gravitated toward more “traditional” sculptors - Michelangelo, Rodin, Bourdelle. Artists who wrestled with the human body, carving tension, weight, and emotion into marble and bronze. I like sculpture when it feels physical, almost painful.
And yet, Takis is undeniable. A true mastermind. He didn’t sculpt bodies, he sculpted forces: magnetism, movement, invisible energies made visible. His work refuses stillness, refuses politeness.
The Foundation, once his home, carries that same energy. It doesn’t feel like a museum but like entering someone’s mind. Open, charged, alive.
I completely fell for his “Erotique” sculptures. I’m obsessed with the human body, with its power, fragility, and raw presence. Takis reduces it to pure tension and desire, stripped of ornament, almost dangerous.
I left feeling slightly unsettled and very awake. Which is exactly how good art should make you feel.
Callirrhoë Gallery
Our friend Valentina Bartolini was part of the “One Work Show Series”, with her “The Room with the Cuckoo Clock” pieces, at Callirrhoë Gallery, so how could we not peek? Callirrhoë isn’t just a gallery; it’s a space where contemporary art flows into society. Its exhibitions, whether group shows or solo presentations by emerging Greek artists, explore the questions of our rapidly changing world, connecting personal expression to collective memory. The name itself, “Callirrhoë,” means “beautiful flow,” and stepping inside, you feel that energy - ideas, emotions, and art pouring freely.
Valentina’s pieces fit perfectly into this current. Her sculptures and paper works explore home, origin, and childhood. Themes we all carry somewhere, quietly, like fragments of a past we can’t fully name.
I really love her work because it feels like memory made visible. Deep terracotta shades, textured Bhutanese papers, muted earth tones. They whisper of past lives, of homes you’ve never known but somehow remember. Handcrafted layers of paper and sculpture fold history and emotion into something deeply personal, yet strangely universal. You can lose yourself in them, and in that loss, find pieces of your own story.
What we can’t leave behind
We love museums but we also love their little shops. Can’t even remember a single visit where we didn’t buy something. Some of the items they have are actually genius. So here’s a tiny curated list of our favourite museum-shop finds from around the world.
Bisous!