It felt fitting to make my first visit to the Meadows Museum at Southern Methodist University, after hearing Dr. Beatriz Galuban and PhD candidate Olivia Turner, speak so highly about it this fall.
I arrived at the Meadows Museum right when it opened, a little earlier than necessary, mostly because I was genuinely excited to finally meet Dr. Galuban in person. The museum was picturesque, perched at the edge of SMU’s campus, emerging from the mature trees like an ornament hanging from the branch of a Christmas tree. I messaged her to let her know I was in the lobby and ready to meet, trying to play it cool while very much not playing it cool.
She told me she’d received special permission for me to attend the Connections Group we had discussed extensively in her interview. I felt moved by the thoughtfulness of it and, after walking away and heading up the stairs into the gallery, I texted my husband to see if he could pick up our youngest from preschool so I could stay. His reply came quickly, enthusiastic and reassuring.
Her invitation landed softly but changed the shape of the morning. With time before the group started, I moved into the galleries, letting myself wander through the museum for the first time. The light felt careful. The museum was quiet in that particular way museums are before they fill, polite, echoing, almost self-conscious.
I started with a photography exhibition, then drifted into the Renaissance galleries, where everything felt steady and unmoved by time or urgency. The rooms felt awake but not yet busy, like they were waiting to see who would show up. Eventually, I found myself standing in front of Picasso’s Still Life in a Landscape (1915). I wasn’t trying to decode it or store it away for later. I was just there, noticing how easy it was to wait when there was something worth looking at.
When it was time for the group, I went down to the conference room and saw Dr. Galuban in her element. I told her I would find a spot to observe and stay out of the way, but she encouraged me to be part of the group.
I took a seat among two elderly couples, and within minutes two women were reminiscing about hanging cloth diapers on the clothesline. When I mentioned that I had also cloth diapered my oldest son, Owen, during the pandemic, the table lit up. From there, the conversation drifted naturally from art therapy to life more broadly. Integrating myself into the group felt easy, intergenerational, and unexpectedly intimate.
Dr. Galuban led a discussion centered on Fátima (1927) by Eduardo Chicharro y Agüera, inviting us to sit with the image of a Moroccan woman with facial tattoos, her body partially veiled by sheer fabric. The group lingered with the painting—naming details, questioning assumptions, letting the image hold more than one meaning at once.
We ended by making tote bags using vinyl cutouts and patterned materials. Simple, tactile, and grounding. It felt less like an “activity” and more like a quiet way of coming back into community after the conversation.
I didn’t leave feeling like I had “seen” the Meadows, but instead experienced it through the people there.
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As the year closes, may the holidays offer moments of reflection, creativity, and connection both inside museums and beyond them. Wishing you a restful and meaningful holiday season.
Minette & Brooke
