New York City Through an Artist’s Lens - A Stay at Hotel Park Ave & an Afternoon with Raphael at the Met

 

Hi loves,

There is something about New York that never asks for your attention. It simply commands it.

After a quick one-hour flight from Maryland, I arrived at Hotel Park Ave for my first stay in Manhattan. Before I had even reached the front desk, I found myself standing beneath a remarkable sculpture that immediately set the tone for the experience.

“Pebble Jumble” by British designer and woodworker Jan Hendzel rises nearly twelve feet into the hotel’s lobby. Crafted from British-grown timber, the sculpture balances five oversized egg-shaped forms into a seemingly impossible tower. It feels simultaneously playful and architectural, becoming an anchor for the space that invites guests to pause before continuing upstairs. Designed by Jacu Strauss for Lore Group, the lobby perfectly reflects the hotel’s philosophy: refined, contemporary, and quietly artistic.  

Throughout the property, thoughtful design reveals itself in layers. Bold artwork transforms the elevator into a gallery, geometric forms echo the rhythm of the surrounding skyline, and warm copper mirrored headboards subtly expand both the room and the city views beyond the windows.

Minimal without ever feeling sparse, Hotel Park Ave offers more than beautiful interiors. It feels intentionally calming amidst one of the world’s busiest cities. The service was equally memorable. The staff graciously accommodated my gluten intolerance and non-alcoholic preferences, recommending thoughtful alternatives and even inviting me to sample several alcohol-free cocktails. Hospitality here felt genuinely personal rather than rehearsed.

One of my favorite discoveries was The Seed Library, the hotel’s intimate cocktail lounge inspired by Lore Group’s acclaimed London bar of the same name. Rich wood tones, dim lighting, and an atmosphere that encourages conversation create a welcome contrast to the city’s constant movement.  

With my bags unpacked, I stepped outside toward Central Park.

There is a reason New Yorkers refer to it as the city’s lungs.

Families picnicked beneath the trees while runners traced familiar paths, cyclists sped past, children chased soccer balls, and visitors wandered beneath the canopy with cameras in hand. The park somehow slows time without stopping it. Even surrounded by millions of people, there is room to breathe.

From there, I wandered north toward the Metropolitan Museum of Art, allowing myself to become distracted by historic brownstones, boutique storefronts, and the irresistible pull of window shopping along Madison Avenue.Naturally, I made one stop before arriving.

A matcha from Ralph’s Coffee.

Yes, it may be one of New York’s most photographed cafés, but there’s something undeniably enjoyable about watching the intersection of fashion, design, and travel unfold over a simple cup of tea.

When I finally reached The Met on a bustling Tuesday afternoon, I realized drinks weren’t permitted inside. As I hurried to finish my iced matcha on the museum steps, one of the security guards smiled and encouraged me not to rush.

“Take a minute,” he said. So I did.

The fountains shimmered in the afternoon sun as travelers gathered across the iconic steps, chatting with friends, photographing one another, and lingering a little longer before stepping inside. Beside me sat a flight attendant from Iceland on a work layover. We exchanged cameras, capturing one another with The Met rising behind us before wishing each other unforgettable adventures and disappearing into the museum.

It’s often these unplanned encounters that become the most memorable part of traveling.

As I made my way toward the entrance, the same security guards, Andy, smiled warmly and handed me my admission ticket. He paused for a moment, commenting on the excitement and energy I had for visiting The Met, before simply saying, “Enjoy your visit.”

It was a small gesture, but one that stayed with me.

I walked through the grand entrance feeling both grateful and quietly affirmed, as though I was exactly where I was meant to be. New York no longer felt overwhelming. It felt like a city gently unfolding, revealing the next step only when I was ready to take it. With every conversation, every unexpected kindness, and every turn down a new street, the path seemed to illuminate itself.

As I immersed myself in the vastness and meticulously curated art and culture of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I made my way directly to Raphael: Sublime Poetry. Knowing that the exhibition was nearing its end, I couldn’t think of a more fitting place to begin my afternoon than among the works of another Renaissance master whose influence continues to shape the realms of painting, architecture, and design. This thought was further reinforced by my recent reading of Walter Isaacson’s Leonardo da Vinci, which had left me with a profound appreciation for the genius of this Renaissance icon.

Sometimes travel is less about checking destinations off a list and more about allowing yourself to belong to a place, even briefly.

Having recently finished Walter Isaacson’s biography of Leonardo da Vinci, I found myself eager to better understand another Renaissance giant whose influence extended beyond painting into architecture, design, and draftsmanship.

The galleries were filled with an almost reverent silence.

Visitors moved carefully around each drawing, speaking in whispers as though entering a sacred space. It was less like viewing an exhibition and more like witnessing the evolution of a remarkable mind.

Raphael—born Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino—died at only thirty-seven years old, yet his artistic legacy remains one of the defining achievements of the Italian Renaissance.

Curated by Carmen C. Bambach, whose nearly eight years of research brought together more than 200 works, Raphael: Sublime Poetry offered an extraordinarily intimate view into his creative process. Alongside celebrated paintings were preparatory sketches, architectural studies, tapestries, antiquities, and rarely loaned works that revealed not only the finished masterpieces, but the countless decisions that shaped them. It was the first exhibition of its scale devoted to Raphael in the United States and a singular opportunity to experience these works together.  

What struck me most were not the finished paintings. It was the sketches. The erased lines. The repeated attempts. The quiet evidence even the greatest artists wrestled with uncertainty before arriving at beauty. As an artist myself, there was something profoundly comforting in witnessing the humanity behind genius. Every masterpiece once existed as a fragile idea on paper.

Walking back into the city that evening, I realized New York had given me far more than photographs.

It reminded me that great design, meaningful hospitality, and extraordinary art all share one quality: they guide you slow down to truly see. Digest.

And perhaps that’s the greatest luxury of all — continue to be inspired.