By Sindu Soundararajan
This past December, I visited the Museum of Modern Art in New York City with my sisters. I had the opportunity to see amazing pieces: some were incredibly well-known, like Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and others were less popular, but equally amazing. Last summer, I visited the Guggenheim in Bilboa, Spain and experienced Modern Art, but MoMA’s contrasting vibes definitely took me by surprise. The mix of genuinely interested artists and confused foreign tourists made for interesting conversations around me. My sisters and I tried to interpret each painting, sculpture, and video that we saw, stretching our imagination to find meaning to some of the pieces. Even if we struggled to understand the art, I reassured myself that each artist had deep meaning to the work, even if the description of the piece gave no mention of the artist’s intent. I heard the phrase “Is this even considered art?” countless times from visitors and soon enough, I began to wonder the same question about certain pieces. “What is art?” I thought to myself. My trip to MoMA opened my eyes to the world of modern art and after hours of touring the museum, I finally found my answer to this question. To me, art is anything that has meaning, regardless of whether this meaning is seen immediately or after hours of interpretation.