I stand, locked, in front of the Van Gogh. I feel dizzy, lightheaded as it draws me into itself. My feet are planted, but I feel my body being pulled into the scene. My eyes break away for a second and I glance around, wondering if anyone else feels what I feel – the energy and joy and anger and consciousness emanating from that painting…I reel backward, tearing my eyes away. Next, the Picasso. Hours later, I leave the museum in an exhausted sweat. Read more…