I’m an art lover with a confession: a lot of art in museums bores me. Champa and I both love Impressionism, abstract art and other modern genres. But we’re less passionate about much of the art produced before that. We appreciate it but don’t love it.

When we visit great museums, we often stride through the pre-Columbian, Egyptian, African and other galleries, glance at the old European paintings and tapestries and maybe pause a little longer for Rubens, Velázquez and other great masters, especially Rembrandt.

But it’s only when we get to the Monets and Renoirs, to Pollock and Frankenthaler, that we slow down and really begin to savor. For better or worse, that’s the art that speaks to us. 

That is, until we came to Rome and Florence. 

We just spent much of the past week in museums, basilicas and other showcases of Renaissance art. I was familiar with Leonardo, Michelangelo and the other greats, of course, and not only because our two sons collected Ninja Turtles. I admired their work, but it didn’t especially move me. My appreciation was dutiful rather than passionate. 

I don’t know what caused my Renaissance switch to turn on after so many years but, unexpectedly, I found myself entranced by much of what I saw in Rome and Florence. 

For example, here’s Michelangelo’s famous Pietà, which I first saw in my youth at the New York World’s Fair. Its composition and technical mastery are impeccable, to be sure, but what got to me when we viewed it in Saint Peter’s Basilica was its emotional and spiritual power. I could feel Mary’s grace and anguish. 

Michelangelo’s David, in Florence, also spoke to me. Its anatomical precision and monumental scale command attention, but what stayed with me was the look in David’s eye — his intelligence and determination to slay Goliath. David is my namesake and this has always been my favorite Bible story. Seeing this statue in person made him seem so much more real. 

So did this David statue at the Borghese Gallery in Rome. I was less familiar with this Baroque version by Bernini, but I spent a long time circling it, gazing at its details and feeling the drama of what young David was about to do. Just look at his coiled body, holding the stone that will kill the giant. Bernini demands that I engage emotionally. 

And so I did, not just with these three sculptures, but with many of the frescoes, paintings and other works we saw, some of which I’m sharing here.

The Vatican Museum’s collection also included some work by newer artists I already loved, such as Matisse and Klee, below, and I was happy to see those, too. 

I’m sure some people will read this, shake their heads and consider me an idiot for taking so long to appreciate Renaissance art, or for not paying proper homage to other old masters, from Goya to Vermeer. I can hear the indignant cries that I’m paying short shrift to other artistic lineages, from China to the Incas. 

I get it. They’re right. But I can’t help what I like or what touches my heart. Art is so personal. I can recognize the greatness of, say, British landscape painters but still not be moved by them. I can’t explain why I prefer Georgia O’Keeffe’s landscapes or Monet’s water lilies, but I do and think they’re gorgeous. 

Champa and I visit museums often during our travels and have recently steered towards the work we love most. When we went to Amsterdam a few years ago and had only one day to see art, we chose the Van Gogh Museum over the iconic Rijksmuseum. In Paris, we chose a return to the Orsay Museum, which is filled with Impressionists, over revisiting the Louvre. On a recent trip to New York, we went to MoMA and the Whitney instead of the Met.

In Rome and Florence, though, we necessarily focused on Renaissance art, which led me to reevaluate how I felt about it. Maybe something similar would have happened if we’d immersed ourselves for a week in some other artistic style. Maybe not. I think it was the art itself that caused this rebirth, or renaissance, in my sensibilities. 

In any case, I now regret that I didn’t open my eyes sooner and acknowledge that my sons were smarter than me to idolize Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael and Donatello. I should have paid closer attention when they shouted Cowabunga!

Top image: Detail from Raphael’s The School of Athens, Vatican Museum