On a chilly Friday morning in March, I happened to wander past The Frick Collection on the Upper East Side, and knowing that I had a few hours to kill, decided to use the wandering skill here. My girlfriend and I had moved from NY over the last year, missed the Frick’s opening and knew it was something on our list of things to see in New York that week as we were launching Issue 02 of The Unibrow and wanted to also see some art. So the Frick we go.
Henry Clay Frick’s collection of “Old Master paintings and outstanding examples of European sculpture and decorative arts,” as it's billed, exists in, as you know, in his outstanding Gilded Age mansion. It was closed from 2021–25, it reopened, and you can go now.
One of the great tricks of 21st century museums is how to integrate the smart phone into the experience. Nearly everyone has one, nearly everyone is on one when they are in a museum, either taking photos or reading text or just texting or just looking at something else or looking for dinner reservations or coffee near by… that is what I love about a museum, because you can just do things are your own time and speed. I don’t take calls in museums, but I have pulled up and done a few reviews. It’s sort of a nice place to write, if you find a good museum, but you just have to stay out of the way of others and stay quiet and mind your own… space.
Okay so the Frick has a policy that wasn’t really clear to me. They want you to scan the QR code and then get the exhibition text on your phone. So they want you on your phone. There is no text on the walls. No captions. No context really (which to be honest, most of the time, I love, just let me guide myself through and draw my own conclusions), but the Frick wants you to have context, so you are supposed to “scan in” to say the least. You need a phone, you need your phone, throughout the space. So pardon me, but I took a photo of a painting I liked, not thinking much because I was supposed to have my phone out to read about the painting anyway. (You can see the infamous photo up there…)
But see, photography isn’t permitted at the Frick. I got told off by security… Well, I got reprimanded and I was embarrassed. And instead of enjoying the rest of my visit, I think I just had a debate with my girlfriend about how museums operate. We both agree that “no photography” is absolutely fine, even creating a more rewarding experience at a museum. But in this case, the Frick wants you to have your phone in your hand the whole time, to constantly use it as a reference. So no photos, but phones required. It’s an awkward arrangement between a visitor and institution in 2026.
Most of our experiences as humans over the course of the last 15 years has been immediate gratification of documentation, whether senseless or necessary. IAnd I don’t even know if this is a complaint so much as it's me wondering what is the best way to have us engage ourselves in technology and antiquity? What is the policy that both engages all audiences and doesn’t alienate. Some people don’t have a smartphone at all, so they are literally shit out of luck but also don’t have the burden of even thinking they were going to photograph anything anyway. Ignorance is and was bliss, but you probably won’t look up a painting from memory when you get home anyway. The rules of engagement won’t apply.
The Frick is an incredible building. Just walking around was enough. I like that I couldn’t take photos. It’s one of the reasons I love the Neue Galerie up the road from The Frick. No phones, no photos. The Frick is sort of straddling a different vision of the future, one where the digital and the analog coexist but through what I can only think is a preservation technique, you can snap a few shots. Part of me thinks the Frick is dead on right, keep that window opened by the QR code and read more at home. But it still requires a phone in hand to do so.
I’m open for any policy, and happy to oblige. It’s just an observation about how we take museums with us wherever we go, and what the future holds for a conversation about preservation and experience. —Evan Pricco
