Since 2020, the Princeton Art museum has been under construction for remodeling and expansion. Definitely long overdue but I’ve missed it since the in-town exhibitions have frequently felt sort of incomplete. When the museum finally reopened last October I immediately visited a couple times and had grand plans for publishing my thoughts sometime in November.
Oh well. Life had other plans and this just kept getting pushed back and back. But it’s done now so better late than never.
The new museum features many exciting improvements (and of course a few complaints). We’ll start with the building itself which puts the galleries all on one floor and does this wonderful thing on the entry floor where a lot of the hallways feel like outdoor spaces complete with a rougher wall texture.
The entry floor is not gallery space but rather public access. The museum store is here as well as a few lecture halls and a reception hall. You’re in the museum but still feel like you’re outside it. This is both very cool while highlighting probably the biggest problem with the museum—namely that its footprint does not fit the Princeton grid.
One of the coolest things about the Princeton campus is how explorable it is. Most buildings aren’t large and those that are are either pieced by first floor pedestrian passageways or are grouped around a courtyard so they aren’t actually as large as they look. This makes the campus a place where you’re always finding new routes and rarely have to walk around anything. Lots of fun to wander at night or during break when no one’s around.
The art museum construction disrupted the center of campus by forcing everyone to walk all the way around the site. The new museum maintains the disruption as the only large building you can’t walk through. This is a shame since it sits in the middle of everything. The hallways inside suggest that at one point it was intended to be more open but those are now hidden behind doors, many of which feel like you’re sneaking into the building rather than following a logical path through campus.

Anyway, the museum galleries themselves were a lot of fun to visit and I loved seeing artwork that I was familiar with displayed in fresh new ways. The only entry-level gallery is the “Welcome Gallery” whose special exhibition dedicated to Toshiko Takaezu treats her not only as an American artist* but one who was in conversation with multiple other famous American modern artists—many of whom are also on display in the gallery so that the connections are eplicit..
*Born in the Territory of Hawaii, taught at Princeton for 25 years…
I very much appreciate the sigh of relief it allowed me to take immediately upon seeing the new museum. It’s as sure a sign as anything that this was a very different, much improved museum from what it used to be when Takaezu was sequestered in the basement as a Showa-era artisan.
The rest of the museum consists of a single main floor above the entry level. The most obvious change here is in the hallways between the galleries—especially the landing around the stairwell—where the museum mixes periods and locations in order to display items that have similar themes.
A wall of portraits old and new including some by Titus Kaphar which combine old and new. A Kwakwaka’wakw panel carved by Rande Cook is paired with a similarly-colored Mark Rothko. Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe is next to a 14th century panel of Mary with Jesus by Giovani di Tano Fei.
This is super exciting since it acknowledges how new artists are inspired by everyone and that it does no one any good to silo art by geographic location. It also highlights how certain subjects from portraits to still lifes to landscapes are universal.
The wall of still lifes is a particularly great example of this approach since it contains different media, geographic sources, and time periods—among them an early-20th century Korean screen by Baik Yoon Moon, 18th century French oils by Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin, and 20th century photographs by Ruth Barnhart—yet when seen all together it’s immediately obvious about what’s going on.
Interestingly, only one of the hallway thematic hangs is listed as a special exhibition. That exhibition is the Face to Face hallway and is also a very good example of what the museum is doing and how it’s taking a lot of art out of the non-white artists basement and mixing everything together.
I really like seeing Ana Mendieta next to a 16th century German woodcut but the pairing of Liu Dan with Guercino is one of the best validations of the museum’s new approach. The entire point of the Liu Dan’s work is that it’s both Chinese and Western and both old and modern and exists in a world where things can’t be categorized easily anymore.
I suspect that most of my future visits to the museum will consist of exploring the hallways and seeing what new mashups they’ve done. I’ll be very sad if those don’t rotate pretty regularly and things get static since the permanent collection rooms have a tendency to take the permanent part very literally.

The permanent galleries were what I was least interested in seeing in the new museum but much to my surprise I really enjoyed how they have been revamped. The European Gallery has the biggest change here as the curators make the statement that art which is a product of trade and colonialism is inherently European.
There’s an entire wall of paintings and photographs of non-European subjects by European artists which quietly highlights* the colonial view of the world and the way that travel images behave in this context. Really nice to see these as a mix of media and time period too since the argument includes that this has been going on for centuries.
*I didn’t even notice any wall text explaining why these were all together.
The central spine of the galleries goes even further and features art made outside Europe which ended up in European collections. The Yoruba spoon handle is an example of the kind of thing that showed up in collections all over Europe in the sixteenth century. A gold Peruvian cup is accompanied by a long description of how it was associated with Montezuma for centuries thanks to the Spaniard who sold it to the British.* A nineteenth century Indian ewer combines an Indian form with British-themed inlays to create a hybrid artifact.
*There’s a similar discussion around Manet’s Women with a Cigarette and all the different ways it’s been titled with various non-French ethnicities assigned to the woman because she has dark skin. The overarching argument is that the way the art was used and framed in Europe is just as interesting as the art itself.
In all of these cases, while the art is from other continents, that they were marketed to, collected, and traded by Europeans gives them a European context and makes the European rooms much more interesting by acknowledging how global trade passed through Europe for centuries. This is particularly highlighted by a wall which displays objects related to various commodities such as coffee, tea, sugar, tobacco, and chocolate and includes wall text about how each of those were used to justify colonization and enslavement.*
*Reminding me of a fantastic little exhibition at Stanford about sugar which combined high tea ceramic sugar bowls, portraits of the plantation owners, and documents about the conditions of the slaves.
The American—really United States—galleries aren’t as dramatic but are much more explicit about the changes they’ve made. Slavery and indigenous genocide are quietly included as part of the background information for almost all the artwork.* The big portrait of George Washington at the Battle of Princeton remains as the official welcome image but it’s paired with a bust of Washington by Alan Michelson titled Hanödaga:yas (Town Destroyer).
*For example, the Boidinot collection wall text: “Assembled over several generations, the collection is unusual for its breadth and extent, reflecting a family’s shifting tastes and circumstances, the latter shaped by religion, race, and politics. Of Huguenot descent, the Boudinots came to America following the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685 by Louis XIV of France, which had allowed Protestants to practice their religion without state persecution. The family later settled in Antigua but returned to the mid-Atlantic around 1736 under threat of a planned rebellion of enslaved Africans working the island’s sugar plantations. Elias Boudinot IV (1740–1821) apprenticed with Princeton lawyer Richard Stockton, whom his sister Annis had married. Elias served in the Continental Army and the Continental Congress, where he advocated the abolition of slavery, a lifelong conviction carried into his final role as founding president of the American Bible Society.”
I love the grouping even though it’s very clear that despite the wall text highlighting the connection, the general momentum of the museum docents and visitors doesn’t give a shit. I listened to a tour stop at the Washington portrait and spend ten minutes talking all about it, his greatness, and all the Princeton connections (literally the same talk I remember receiving a decade ago). The docent then mentioned the bust next to it, said nothing about what it was or who had made it, and then handwaved it away as, “this is how curators try to start conversations” while leading the tour group away after 30 seconds.
The rest of the rooms have a lot going on. On the other side of the Washington portrait is a set of casta paintings by Buenaventura José Guiol so the idea that we’re going to be looking at race relations throughout the galleries is very clearly set up. There’s a large jar by Dave the Potter. A photo by Renee Cox restaging the signing of the Constitution is paired with a neoclassical sofa from the early 19th century. Contemporary photos and drawings of the Civil War are displayed with work by Kara Walker.
Native Americans are also just mixed in with everything else. Depictions of Natives by white artists to document a “dying race” are combined with depictions of whites by Natives which were sold to sustain themselves. Objects from the Arts and Crafts movement are paired with objects that demonstrate the commodification of native craft. All and all a lot of fun to see and much much more interesting than these galleries were in the old museum.
Compared to the European and American rooms, the Asian rooms are much much more straightforward—mainly because the museum isn’t making an argument about colonialism or including art which they had previously not considered part of Asia. There’s still a huge improvement though in how these rooms are no longer centered around the idea of being “ancient” and include a large amount of contemporary work which is no longer being forced into the ancient framing.*
*I mentioned this earlier with Tokaezu’s work but all the Asian art in the old museum was dated as being part of an era or period rather than being given a year. eg. modern Japanese art was “Showa-era” or “Heisei-era” rather than being 1926–1989 or 1989–2019.
Much of the contemporary work now is referencing the past by either using a traditional form with contemporary subjects or a contemporary form using traditional subjects. These make sense in a room where they can be in conversation with the older works and you can see how the traditions are being referenced.
There are also photographs and things by Asians traveling abroad which suggest a future display very similar to the ones in the European galleries except with the roles reversed.
The last set of dedicated galleries was the modern art wing. These were a wonderfully diverse with modern artists from all over the world. Yayoi Kusama and El Anatsui are no longer in the basement and they’re joined by many other people as part of a global modern art curriculum with people like Suki Seokyeong Kang, Ellen Gallagher, and Cara Romero along with the usual mid-century Modern Art classics. Very cool to see these rooms as continuing to evolve rather than getting stuck in that mid-century period.
If I have any complaint here it’s in the fact that much of this gallery is in the “make it fucking large” school of modern art which always feels like a display of the art market rather than the art itself.

Moving out of the four big galleries takes us to the weaker parts of the museum. I think this is more a function of the museum’s collections rather than a curatorial choice but it’s still worth mentioning.
Besides the hallways and big galleries there are numerous spaces where the hallways open up and art is on display. These are almost all dedicated to art from Africa, Latin America, and Native America and are the closest to what the old museum used to be in that things are on display without much information or commentary.
The Latin America room is particularly noticeable here* in how it feels very much like looking at someone’s collection without any real information about how and why these pieces were chosen. There’s more of a warehouse feel where the space is more an accumulation of things rather than a curated collection.
*Not as much as ancient Rome which I didn’t even spend time in since it felt no different from before. Though I do have to admit that the new in-floor mosaics are very nice.
This warehouse feel extends to many parts of the museum including a few spaces in the big galleries where objects are just crammed into a display. Some of this is to have objects which aren’t On Display™ still be visible* but other times it’s clearly a choice prioritizing the appearance of the display over education. The “world in miniature” display in the Asian rooms is particularly bad here in that it’s a mishmash of time periods, cultures (some not even Asian), and uses with the single unifying concept being the size of the piece.
*Akin to the mezzanine level in the American wing of the Met.
In some of the warehouse cases there’s not even any identifying text aside from a QR code which assumes that you have internet access. Which I did not since my cell phone does badly deep inside thick concrete walls, there’s no visitor wifi, and I don’t have access to eduroam.
It’s not all bad though. The Africa collection is in one of those wide-hallway gallery spaces and is similar to the Asian room in how it focuses on newer work which exists as an extension of traditional works. Many of the items on display are from the last 100 years. I especially liked the photography of Z.J.S. Ndimande & Son as well as Hugh Hayden’s work.
Hayden is interesting because he’s a Texan who’s also on display in the American galleries but because he’s working in discussion with African art also fits in the Africa rooms.
This gallery is still sort of unfocused though and I suspect that the way it feels like a hallway is part of the problem.
The Native American art is similar. There’s stuff—some of it nice—but over all feels a bit like an afterthought. This is a shame since the museum is also doing some cool stuff and putting objects on display which haven’t even been fully cataloged.* This is neat to see and I enjoyed learning a little about how the museum actually works.
*anything with a label number starting in “ui” hasn’t been fully researched by the museum to confirm that the information about them is accurate.

There are two special exhibitions along with the new museum in general. I didn’t spend enough time in the photography one to write about it. The other is a large one called Princeton Collects which, while I can see the rationale behind it, felt completely redundant to the rest of the museum.
The nature of most museums is that they say a lot about themselves because of how they rely on donations in order to fill the collection. Princeton in particular is like this—especially in the collections from Latin America, Asia, and Africa. Those collections—both their strengths and weaknesses—say more about Princeton than the objects and every time I’ve walked through those galleries in both the old and new museums I’ve wondered about the alumni who acquired and donated everything.
The Princeton collects galleries are more of the same but are displayed all together in a way that encourages light browsing where I was stopped by art I recognized such as Huang Yan* or something new that caught my eye like the photography of Zanele Muholi. The only takeaway I could discern was “isn’t Princeton great because it has all this art”—one of the same points that the museum as a whole has already.
*Who I saw at San José year ago.
If this exhibition were in one of the downtown gallery spaces as a way of bringing a sample of the museum into the community I’d totally understand it. But in the museum itself located in a room all the way at the back after you’ve already walked through the entire museum? There’s nothing really new it can add this way.
Which about wraps things up. Overall a massively exciting and promising direction. Yes there’s room for improvement but the trend is positive. I’m deeply happy that it’s back and look forward to returning many times. I expect that future special exhibitions will be a lot more interesting.
Specific things
The last part of this post will be noting specific things that I liked just by themselves.
The display case of Zhang Hongtu’s work which grouped it with his Zhou dynasty, Qing dynasty, Dutch, and modern influences was a wonderful little stand-alone exhibit that demonstrates what’s so exciting about the new direction the museum is going.
A print in the European gallery of six nude female figures caught my eye because it’s presented as an aid for painters but is really about that fantastic time in the early years of photography where its place as a tool is still being figured out. Fascinating to see how it replaced quick figure sketches and became a key ingredient to a painter’s toolkit. It’s also obvious to me that these are CdVs and could just as easily be sold and collected as prints on their own since girlie images have been one of the photography’s core competencies from day one.
I love seeing Michael Menchaca’s La Raza Cosmica* since it’s a beautiful series of prints that mixes classic designs with modern ideas. I do wish it was tied in more with the casta images on display in the American gallery rather than being in a wide spot in the hallway.
*This link goes to the full set which is not listed as on display. The different but similar set on display is catalogued print by print.

There’s a wonderful alcove dedicated to a display of the backs of paintings and the kind of information that conservators find and look for there. From annotations by artists, owners and past conservators to the structural supports and fingerprints left over from creating the art there’s so much more going on than what actually gets displayed. This is a fantastic use of a teaching museum and it’s great that the public is also allowed to see this kind of thing.
Dadamaino’s L’Alfabeto della mente is cool as hell just by itself but seeing it as an emotional response to tragedy, “full of anger and powerless pain,” is especially poignant both with its connection to Palestinian lives lost and the larger state of the world today.
And finally there are a few moments where the architecture of the museum itself has a chance to shine. From windows which let the beauty of Princeton’s campus be part of the museum to little nooks which feel like site-specific installations,* it’s just nice to be reminded that you’re not trapped in a windowless concrete box.
*eg Tuấn Andrew Nguyễn’s Naga which feels like Calder lite but really fits its own dedicated space.





















































































































































































































