Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts

Stand on the pavement of North Broad Street for a moment and look up. The building in front of you is not made of one colour. It is built in layers of red brick, pale stone, and darker trim. Patterns run across the front like stitching on a quilt. Traffic hums behind you, buses sigh at the kerb, and yet this facade holds your eye. It looks heavy, almost stubborn, and also strangely playful. Welcome to the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.

Here is the first surprise. This institution is older than most of what surrounds it. It was founded in 1805, and it is widely described as the oldest art museum and art school in the United States. At that time Philadelphia was one of the leading cities of a very young country. A group of artists and civic leaders wanted Americans to train at home, rather than sailing to Europe to learn. Among the founders was the painter Charles Willson Peale, a man who seemed to collect talents the way others collected stamps.

That double purpose still matters today. This is a museum, yes, with galleries full of paintings and sculpture. But it is also a working school. Students still learn to draw and paint here. So when you walk through the doors, you are not only visiting a collection of finished art. You are entering a place where art is still being made, argued over, and practised every day. Keep that in mind as you explore.

Now, back to that remarkable building. It was designed by the Philadelphia architect Frank Furness, working with his partner George Hewitt. It opened in 1876, the year Philadelphia celebrated the hundredth birthday of American independence. Furness worked in a style often called High Victorian Gothic. In simple terms, that means bold shapes, pointed arches, rich colour, and a love of mixing materials. Furness did not want a quiet building. He wanted one you would remember.

Look closely at the front again. Notice how the stone, brick, and metal each do a different job. Some parts look carved by hand. Others feel almost industrial, as if they came from a factory. That mix was deliberate. Philadelphia in the late nineteenth century was a city of foundries, railways, and workshops. Furness let that energy show. Today the building is recognised as a National Historic Landmark, and many visitors come for the architecture alone.

Step inside, and the mood changes. The grand stair hall rises ahead of you. Your eye travels upward, past arches and railings, toward a deep blue ceiling scattered with stars. The walls carry warm reds and golds. Light falls from above and moves across the surfaces through the day. Pause on the stairs. Many people rush straight to the galleries, but this staircase is one of the finest spaces in the whole building.

The galleries at the top were designed with a clear purpose. Furness wanted paintings to be seen in good natural light, so skylights bring daylight down into the rooms. This was practical thinking for a school as well as a museum. Students needed to study works closely, and they needed honest light to do it. As you walk, notice how the brightness changes from room to room, and how it changes the colour of the paint.

The collection tells the story of American art across more than two centuries. You will find portraits from the early years of the republic, landscapes, history paintings, and later modern work. One huge canvas often stops visitors in their tracks. It is Benjamin West's Death on the Pale Horse, a dramatic scene drawn from the Book of Revelation. West was an American who became a celebrated painter in London. Stand back from it. The scale is part of the experience.

Now for the second surprise, and it is a story of scandal. One of the most important teachers in the Academy's history was Thomas Eakins, a Philadelphia painter known for honest, unflattering realism. Eakins believed students must study the real human body. In 1886 he removed the loincloth from a male model during a class that included women. The reaction was fierce. He was forced to resign. Today, his work is celebrated, and his departure is remembered as a turning point in American art education.

The school also opened doors for women at a time when that was far from normal. Mary Cassatt, later famous for her paintings of mothers and children, studied here before moving to Paris. Cecilia Beaux, a gifted portrait painter, became the first woman to teach full time at the Academy. As you look at the walls, ask yourself whose voices were present, and whose were missing. The collection carries both stories.

When you leave the historic building, look across the open space beside it. This is Lenfest Plaza, a pedestrian area that links the older building to the Academy's second building, the Hamilton Building. And standing in the plaza is something you cannot miss. It is a giant paintbrush, tilted at an angle, its tip glowing. This sculpture, called Paint Torch, is by Claes Oldenburg, an artist famous for turning everyday objects into huge public art. It is a cheerful signpost for an art school.

The neighbourhood around you adds to the picture. You are close to City Hall, whose tower rises a few blocks to the south. Broad Street is one of Philadelphia's main arteries, and you will hear it all day: car horns, footsteps, conversations in many languages. The Academy sits right in the middle of this movement. It is not hidden away in a quiet park. Art and daily city life share the same street here, just as the founders hoped.

Before you walk on, turn back once more to the Furness facade. See how the afternoon light settles on the brick and stone. Think of the students who have climbed these steps for generations, carrying sketchbooks and doubts and ambition. Some became famous. Most did not. All of them learned to look a little more carefully. As you head down Broad Street, try doing the same... notice one colour, one shape, one face. That is the Academy's lesson, and you can take it with you.