On Sunday, I discovered that I really like Fauvism.

Which is funny, because until I was standing in a room full of it, I’m not sure I could have told you what it was.

Iñigo and I are making a big effort to take advantage of all of the wonderful art exhibitions in Paris this winter, and last weekend, we visited “Berthe Weill. Art dealer of the Parisian Avant-garde” at the Musée de l’Orangerie.

Because Weill was a beloved patroness of young and up-and-coming artists throughout the first half of the 1900s, the show displayed a fantastic collection of post-impressionists, early cubists, artists-in-exile, abstract painters, and more, including some blue-period Picassos and—*gasp*—Modigliani nudes (shocking at the time).

But my favorite gallery showcased paintings by Matisse and his cohorts—those “wild animals” known as the Fauvists.

I know the style isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but to me, the wild brushstrokes, cheerful colors, and bold textures are maximalism at its best.

By contrast, a week prior, I was at a show that couldn’t have been more different but that I enjoyed just as much.

It was “Minimal,” at the Bourse de Commerce Pinault Collection.

Highlights were Meg Webster’s monumental sculptures—I particularly loved the fragrant beeswax wall, which reminded me of a Richard Serra (who also had a piece featured in the show); the Mono-Ha gallery, where I learned about the Japanese minimalist movement; Agnes Martin’s repetitive grids, dots, and lines; and Lygia Pape’s “now you see it, now you don’t” golden threads that shifted in the light.

But admittedly, a torn piece of paper, or a monochrome canvas, or a granite cube on the floor, or a slab of steel leaned against the wall did have me asking the question, “What is art?”

Which is probably the point.

I love this topic and can get a lot more philosophical about it, but we’ll save that for another day. Mostly, I loved that this exhibition made me ask myself that question again.

Because my real takeaway after going to these two shows, Reader, is that while these artistic movements may be completely opposite to each other, that doesn’t mean they’re mutually exclusive.

Just because we enjoy one thing doesn’t mean it’s the ONLY thing we can enjoy, or that we can’t enjoy something that’s completely different. In fact, having varied interests is what makes us so … well, interesting!

Which is why I love helping people plan trips that honor all of their facets—not just the obvious stuff or the aspects that fit neatly into a category.

For example, I have some clients going to Japan in the fall who are interested in ceramics and crafts, but also food. They want to experience both traditional and contemporary Japanese culture, and to see a mix of highlights and deep cuts.

Exactly the kind of trip I love planning.

Most of us have limited vacation days—our leisure time is precious. So why should we have to choose between Italy and France, or a bike excursion and a cooking lesson, or a nature walk and the spa?

I’m here to help you make the most out of your trips, so you return feeling fulfilled, not like something’s missing.

If you’ve been wanting to plan a trip but can’t quite figure out how to incorporate everything you care about—or if you feel like the trips you’ve been taking don’t actually reflect who you are—let’s talk.

I promise you don’t have to pick a lane.

P.S. Still thinking about what kind of trip would feel right for you? Book a call and we’ll figure it out together. (Apparent contradictions welcome.)