In summer 2018 I visited the Rijksmuseum for the Escape Game. I think it was the first edition, and here you can find more information. It was definitely a new museum experience, running around the rooms and looking at objects from different perspectives. I didn't even have time to take more pictures. I still keep the maps and all the printed materials. I really liked not having to use technology: only prints, the museum map and a pencil.
I first had doubts about taking this picture or not. This is a very private moment of a monk praying in front of a sculpture in the South Asian Gallery. I loved the idea of him being so calm in the room, around all these treasures, being able to leave his bag next to the statue and stay there for as long as he wanted. I keep this memory as a reminder of how objects can be displayed in museums and still maintain some of their original functions, even though they have lost its original context. Recommended reading.
During a Manolo Blahnik's shoe exhibition, another visitor approached me. He noticed I had been taking many photographs, going around the room a few times, and closely looking at this display case. He asked if I could explain because he didn't get what the big deal was. So I ended up talking from an industrial designer's perspective, about the creative process and the different steps necesary to manufacture each part of the shoe to finally make sure it looks good and actually allows people to walk in them. He was pleased with our conversation, and I believe I converted him to have more appreciation for the creative professions.
I was volunteering as a tour guide for a temporary exhibition, and the last room had a collection of abstract paintings. One afternoon came to visit a group of mom, grandma and a child (4-5 years). Mom looked for me and told me that her son loved painting but he was getting insecure because he could only draw lines and shapes. We visited the abstract paintings room together, seeing how these artists were drawing only lines, shapes and blocks of color, and got so famous that we were looking at their work at the museum. I hope he gained confidence and becomes an artist!
This must be my most precious museum anecdote. I ended my visit on the second floor and approached the stairs when a man of around 80 y/o stopped me and asked: Do you know why sometimes the blue footprints on the stairs disappear? No idea. He told me that these footprints (this recovered pattern) belonged to the first walking humans and that the experts concluded that the child probably got tired, so the adult carried the child for a while. That's why they sometimes found no trace of the small footprints. I was very moved and surprised by his intervention, and the man walked away. I'm sure he was an experienced anthropologist with a passion for sharing knowledge.
I visited the museum near closing time, and we were pretty much running around to revisit rooms or see some for the first time. A few minutes before closing, the museum staff in the most inner rooms started guiding visitors to the next outer ones and so on, until they get everyone to the entrance. After this super-organized process, all the museum staff is in the lobby, rooms are empty of visitors, and the museum is officially closed. It is spectacular to see them together, all dressed up and professional. It takes a small community to make the museum visit a safe experience for visitors and artworks.
On this occasion, the museum had evening opening times, two days per week, until 9.30 pm. I stayed up until closing time when museum staff was guiding visitors to the entrance. This way, I had the opportunity to walk around almost empty rooms. It was fascinating to imagine the museum at night, without visitors and the artworks finally resting from a busy day. The Louvre is the most visited museum worldwide, with around 10 million yearly visitors in normal conditions. I could, for a few minutes, see the Mona Lisa at a reasonable distance.