Two years ago, we celebrated my seventy-fifth birthday at a much-too-expensive-and-we-didn’t-even-like-it-that-much boutique hotel in the gentrifying meatpacking district of Manhattan.
From our hotel room, we could see a new building rising at the side of the Hudson River a couple of blocks away. But on that bitter cold winter weekend, we didn’t give it a second thought.
That building is now the new home of the Whitney Museum of American Art. The building has the shape of a huge vessel docked on the river, a reflection of its shipping neighborhood. Terraces at every level offer gorgeous views of Manhattan. Even the internal stairways have full windows overlooking the waterfront.
The nearby High Line, New York’s one-and-a-half-mile-long park built on an old section of an elevated railway already brings traffic to this part of Manhattan where remnants of the meatpacking plants now sit side-by-side with new high-end boutique stores. It’s a rapidly changing and very appealing neighborhood.
Although the new museum gets mixed reviews from others, we thought our two hours there (limited by the amount of time on our parking meter and my limited tolerance for museum visits) were not enough.