The Getty Center, LA, CA

A Visit to the Getty Center

A couple of years ago, I had the privilege of visiting the Getty Center in Los Angeles with my partner in conjunction with a work trip. It was easily the best time and money we spent on the west coast. I didn’t know much about The Getty going into it, except that it was an art museum I definitely wanted to see. As we ascended via the tram—meandering through the warm air, expansive sky, and soft classical melodies—I realized the journey up the hill is as intentional as the art that awaits. Every aspect of your time at The Getty is engineered to be an artistic experience.

First Impressions: Architecture and Landscape

Arriving at the museum felt like entering a field of light—Richard Meier’s travertine and glass reflecting both sky and hillside in a quiet play of geometry and shadow. Outside, Robert Irwin’s Central Garden stood as a living sculpture: lush bougainvillea spilling from towering rusted steel arbors, water trickling through meandering paths and reflecting moments of organized wildness. The garden felt less like a backdrop and more like an active participant.

Friendly and knowledgeable guides greeted us when we got off the tram and directed us to where what we most wanted to see. I wanted to see it all. Unfortunately, I didn’t have all the time in the world so we had to hone in on the most important things we wanted to experience.

Exhibition Highlights: Artists, Line, and Form

Once inside, the galleries offered a measured rhythm—light low enough to see texture, spacious walls carrying centuries of drawing, painting, and sculpture without distraction. The building itself is such a work of art and the perfect backdrop to all the pieces held inside.

European Masters

Paintings of structured form and quiet confidence stood out—for example, Pontormo’s striking figure studies, where line and posture speak volumes. The brushwork is deliberate, decisive, and sharp. Rembrandt, Rubens, and Durer were ones I couldn’t wait to see and they did not disappoint. I was in awe just being in the room with these works I’ve studied in textbooks and reference books so often.

Irises by Van Gogh

Yes, "Irises" was on display. It’s vivid, bold, and alive—the kind of painting that fills a room even when you’re standing quietly in front of it. But it wasn’t the heart of the visit for me. I appreciated it, absolutely—but more for the contrast it offered, a reminder that observation can be quiet or exuberant.

Sculpture & Drawings

Interspersed between paintings were sculptures and stained glass fragments with clarity of structure and commitment to material. Each piece felt responsively placed—neither screaming for attention nor lost in the background. The whole place is truly perfectly balanced.

Where Art and Nature Converge

I’ve always been drawn to botanical forms and the quiet power of the human figure. At Getty, those interests met in the way Irwin’s Central Garden was curated—not landscaped, but composed with intention, allowing nature’s irregularities to speak.

That approach—to allow the material, whether plant, pigment, or carved form, to drive the work—resonates deeply with me. It’s what I aim for in my own practice: to shape, but never to force. The European Masters were a bucket list viewing but the garden really took the cake. You could meander for hours and consistently find new angles to look from, new things to see and think about.

A Return to the Studio

Leaving the Getty, I returned to my art practice with more clarity. I spent the next days revisiting botanical sketches and figure studies—some half-finished, others gathering dust. I reworked them, layering new lines over old, not to erase what I’d done but to revisit, refine, and deepen.

This trip wasn’t a transformational revelation. It was a quiet affirmation—that art and nature, when given space and intention, sustain the creative process. The Getty didn’t shout. It invited attention. That’s what stayed with me. I can’t wait to go back.