Pattern play

It's no secret that I love the Met Museum. I'm not really sure how it started, but art museums are one of my happy places. I find peace and serenity in being surrounded by giant works of art, regardless of how crowded a particular gallery is (and sometimes they can be really crowded...I'm looking at you, MoMA), I'm fascinated by a work's creation in regards to its historical and sociological context, and I love finding personal meaning in even the most abstract and esoteric pieces.

While most of the art museums in New York cost much too much for me to visit with any regularity, the Metropolitan Museum of Art blessedly operates on a pay-what-you-wish system - which means that I am able to pay as much as I wish (or as much as I can afford) every time I want to go. And while most visitors to New York only get one chance to see the museum and are forced to take in all two million works of art in a few short hours, I get the luxury of going often and at my own pace.

The last time I was at the museum I was struck by the simple yet detailed patterns on the pottery that lined the Greek and Roman wing (and a few in Oceania) - and since I was leading my own tour, I decided to take a nearsighted approach to the afternoon and focus primarily on the seemingly modern-day, almost zentangle-like designs that I had never noticed before. I quickly found repeating patterns everywhere - once I noticed one, I couldn't help but notice them all.

There's so much to see in any museum, but in a place as giant at the Met the sheer amount of things to take in is often completely overwhelming. It was actually really refreshing to give myself permission on this visit to simply ignore almost everything around me and only pay attention to the teeniest, tiniest details. Have you ever taken such an unorthodox approach to visiting a museum?