Brooklyn Museum

Stand for a moment on the wide plaza and listen. Behind you, traffic rolls along Eastern Parkway, a broad road lined with trees and benches. In front of you, water jumps from fountain jets set into the stone. Then your eyes climb the building itself. Pale columns, a deep pediment, and a row of carved figures stand along the roofline. Below them, a curved wall of glass reflects the sky. Two very different centuries meet right here, at the front door of the Brooklyn Museum.

This is one of the largest art museums in the United States. Many visitors do not expect that. They arrive thinking of Manhattan as the city of great museums, and of Brooklyn as the borough across the river. But this building was meant to compete with anything on the other side of the water. To understand why, it helps to remember that Brooklyn was once its own city. In the late nineteenth century, it was one of the largest cities in the country.

The museum's roots go back even further, to the 1820s. It grew from the Brooklyn Apprentices' Library, a small institution created so that young working people could read and learn. Here is a story many guides enjoy. When the library's cornerstone was laid, the Marquis de Lafayette, the French hero of the American Revolution, was present. According to a memory Walt Whitman shared later in life, he was a small boy in that crowd, and Lafayette lifted him up. Whether every detail is exact, nobody can say for sure.

The building you see now came much later. The architects were McKim, Mead and White, the most celebrated firm in America at the time. They worked in the Beaux-Arts style — a grand, formal style taught at the School of Fine Arts in Paris, full of columns, symmetry, and sculpture. The first section opened in 1897. And now comes the first surprise. What stands before you is only a fraction of the original plan. The architects imagined a building several times larger.

Why was it never finished? In 1898, Brooklyn joined Manhattan and the other boroughs to form a single, greater New York City. Brooklyn's civic ambitions changed almost overnight. Money and attention shifted. Construction slowed and then stopped. So the museum is, in a quiet way, a monument to a city that disappeared. When you look at the side walls, imagine more wings stretching out across the land around you. That is the Brooklyn that almost was.

Now look up at the roofline again. Those carved figures represent great thinkers, lawgivers, and artists from across history. They were meant to tell every visitor that this was a temple of learning. Then lower your gaze to the two large seated women near the entrance. These are allegorical statues of Manhattan and Brooklyn by Daniel Chester French, the sculptor who later made the seated figure in the Lincoln Memorial. Here is the second surprise. They did not begin here. They once stood at the Manhattan Bridge and were moved to the museum in the 1960s.

The building has changed many times. Early on, a grand staircase climbed to an entrance high on the facade. Later in the twentieth century, that staircase was removed, and visitors entered at street level. For years, the front of the museum felt closed and plain. Then, in the early 2000s, the glass entrance pavilion and the open plaza were added. The idea was simple. Make the museum feel open to the neighbourhood again. On a warm evening, you will often see people sitting here, talking, with no plan to go inside at all.

Inside, the collection covers thousands of years and nearly every continent. One of its greatest strengths is ancient Egypt. The Egyptian galleries are among the most respected in the world, with sculpture, coffins, jewellery, and everyday objects. Take your time with the small pieces. A carved face no bigger than your hand can hold more expression than a giant statue. Many visitors rush to the mummies, but some of the finest work sits quietly in the cases nearby.

The museum also has deep collections of African art, art of the Americas, Asian art, and American painting and decorative art. You can also walk through period rooms, which are full rooms rebuilt inside the museum to show how people lived in other times. They show furniture, wallpaper, and the scale of real homes. Standing inside one, you notice how low some ceilings were, and how small the windows feel. History becomes something you can measure with your own body.

One work draws visitors from around the world. On an upper floor, inside the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art, is The Dinner Party by the artist Judy Chicago. It is a large triangular table with place settings for women from history and myth. Each setting has its own embroidered runner and its own painted plate. The installation is permanent, which is rare for a work of this size. Walk slowly around all three sides. The details change with every seat.

The museum has a reputation for taking risks. Over the years, its exhibitions have mixed fashion, music, street culture, and contemporary art with older collections. Some shows have caused public arguments. Others have brought in crowds who had never visited an art museum before. This mix is part of its character. It feels less like a palace and more like a place that belongs to the people who live around it. Brooklyn is one of the most diverse places in the country, and the galleries try to reflect that.

The neighbourhood matters too. The Brooklyn Botanic Garden sits right next door, and Prospect Park is only a short walk away. The subway station outside is even named for the museum. Many locals combine all three in one long day — art in the morning, flowers after lunch, and a slow walk in the park as the light fades. The Brooklyn Public Library's central branch stands nearby as well, at the edge of Grand Army Plaza.

Before you go inside, or as you leave, turn around once more. Look at the columns, the carved figures, and the glass, all together. Listen to the fountains and the traffic on the parkway. This building began as a dream of a great independent city. That city became part of something larger, but the museum stayed. Today it belongs to this neighbourhood, to the families on the plaza, and for a little while, to you.