And after nearly four hours, I was sated. But it's not for the faint-hearted. The crowds are cloying, but well-mannered. Even the queue to get in was a test in patience; it took at least 20 minutes to reach the ticket counter.
But to see, finally, Gustav Klimt's bare-breasted woman in the flesh was a joy. That image on so many cards over the years was imprinted on my mind. But right there in front of me, she came to life.
Monet's gigantic Reflections of Clouds on the Water Lily Pond was stupendous. It was radical for its time (1920) and was still thrilling the crowds in 2009. The work is 2 metres by 12.76 metres long, in three panels. At least 20 people were just sitting there staring at it in quiet awe.
I must have heard at least eight t languages being spoken. People discussed with reverence the famous images, most of which I'd only ever seen as reproductions.
And the audio device (free with the entry fee) helped bring meaning to the paintings. Some of the commentaries even had sound effects – a dog barks and a clock ticks while the post-impressionist Pierre Bonnard's The Bathroom (1932) is described.
The highlight for me was Christina's World (1948, tempera on gessoed panel) by Andrew Wyeth. It was an image imprinted in my mind since childhood. The terribly crippled woman (a neighbour of Wyeth's in Maine) crawls towards a house in a field of perfectly rendered grass — each blade so realistic you can almost feel it under her poor hands.
The collection of Miros was breathtaking. The colours and the drama of each piece was thrilling. One piece, Still Life with Old Shoe (1937) was spooky and sad at the same time with its moody shadows and glowing greens, reds and black.
The audio commentary for Marc Chagall's
I and the Village (1911) featured a mooing cow. I wondered if it came from the giant cow's head peering at the green man's face or the smaller cow being milked by a tiny woman.
The day before, as we walked along York Avenue on Manhattan's East Side, we spied Sotheby's, the famous art auction house. Charlie, an art dealer from Minneapolis, wanted to check it out. "Let's pop in and see what's up," he said.
There was an auction of prints going on, so we grabbed a catalogue and slipped into some seats. Up on a large screen appeared a Picasso.
I've attended a couple of art auctions before but to see a Picasso etching about to go under the hammer was exciting.
It seemed a collector was selling off his Picasso prints and one after another went for extreme prices. The thirty-something auctioneer was really earning her pay. She barely paused for breath. In the space of an hour she must have sold a couple of million dollars' worth of Picassos.
Bids were coming in thick and fast by phone and a couple of stony-faced arty types bidding against each other provided an entertaining hour. Anyone can go along, but if you want to bid you must register first. As theatre, it was a great free show.
After an hour we'd had enough and left. Coming up the next day were works by Lucien Freud, Toulouse-Lautrec, Renoir, Pissarro, Rauschenberg and Cy Twombly, among others. I was disappointed at my lack of staying power but impressed at the auctioneer's.
That morning we had our first taste of what this great city has to offer art-wise. The Frick Collection is still housed in the beautiful home of Henry Clay Frick, a steel magnate.
The mansion was designed by Carrere and Hastings, the same architects who worked on the New York Public Library.
The home is based around two beautiful courtyards that feature fountains, palms and frogs spouting water; wonderful spots to reflect on a fabulous collection of old masters.
Again, the audio commentary is brilliant. Someone went to great lengths to really set the scene about two very special paintings.
On one side of an impressive fireplace, Holbein's two old adversaries, Sir Thomas More and Cardinal Wolsey, face off. Their hostility towards each other over Anne Boleyn, one of Henry VIII's wives, is palpable.
Frick clearly had good taste and assembled a collection that includes Rembrandt, Reynolds, Corot, Gainsborough, Lippi and some fabulous furniture from the 18th century court of France. Much of it is in the rococo style, with lots of marquetry inlay and gold gilt. Not everybody's cup of tea but it works in the Frick.
One of the few American painters in the collection is Whistler and although his mother isn't there, the Frick contains some beauties. There are 10 of Whistler's works, including full-length portraits of a couple of aristocrats and some lovely seascapes.
Afterwards we discussed Whistler's work over a cup of tea at the Coffee Inn on First Avenue. An elderly and very elegant Iranian man nearby politely interrupted to tell us a story about Whistler and Oscar Wilde.
Apparently, the two were having a conversation when Whistler said something clever.
Our new friend explained: "And Wilde said to Whistler, 'I wish I'd said that,' and Whistler said to Wilde, 'You will, Oscar, you will."
TRIP NOTES
WHERE TO STAY
Doubles at the Sheraton Manhattan at Times Square, at 7th Ave and 51st St, start from $US179 ($260) a night. See starwoodhotels.com/sheraton.
WHILE THERE
Museum of Modern Art, 11 West 53rd St, moma.org
Sotheby's, 1334 York Ave, sothebys.com.
The Frick Collection, 1 East 70th St, frick.org.
