Rediscovering Inspiration at The Armory Show
The Armory Show returned to the Javits Center this week, drawing artists, collectors, and enthusiasts from around the world. I attended with my mother-in-law, expecting to be dazzled by the sheer range of contemporary works. What I didn’t expect was how much the experience would rekindle something deeper in me—both as an artist and an educator.
[Joyce J Scott, I call her Name, 2004]
Walking through the exhibition, I found myself drawn not only to the visual impact of each piece but to the practice of looking more closely. From a distance, the works demanded attention through scale, color, or form. Up close, textures and techniques revealed themselves—unexpected materials layered, hidden gestures from the artist’s hand, subtle decisions that transformed ideas into tangible expression. The fun was in questioning: What is the artist trying to say? Why this material, this method?
The experience transported me back to my undergraduate days at RISD, when I lived in a kind of creative bubble—constantly making, questioning, critiquing, and being critiqued. Life then was centered around experimentation and critical thinking, with art serving as both language and lens. Walking through The Armory Show felt like stepping back into that rhythm of thought, where every piece demanded reflection and conversation.
[Diana Sofia Lozano, Sunset CORAH, 2025]
It struck me how different this felt from the way I used to engage with art during my years in the corporate world. Back then, I rarely gave myself permission to go beyond surface-level impressions. The inspiration was always there, but I often suppressed it—partly out of jealousy, partly out of fear. Creating felt like a luxury I didn’t have time or courage for, and so my curiosity remained buried under stress and deadlines.
This visit was different. Today, I carry the freedom to create, not only in my own artistic practice but also in shaping experiences for others through Whimsy Art Club. Instead of being overwhelming, the sheer range of expression felt energizing. If time allowed, I could have spent the entire day wandering, absorbing, questioning, and learning.
The greatest gift of the day was realizing how seamlessly I can now bridge these worlds: the inspiration of contemporary artists and the creative exploration of the young students I teach. By weaving new techniques and ideas into our classes, I can help nurture the next generation of creators—children who may one day transform how we see the world.
The Armory Show was more than an exhibition; it was a reminder that curiosity, once buried, can always be reawakened. And for me, that reawakening is not just personal—it’s something I can pass on, one class at a time.
