Robert Indiana

After a gruelling Soul Cycle class this morning, S and I headed up to the Upper East Side for a bout of museum-hopping.

First stop, food. 

We had a hearty meal of pasta, eggs and the yummiest stuffed pancakes at The East Pole, picked solely based on photos on Nicole's website. Said pancakes will have us back again for brunch (especially since this place takes reservations). Curiosity about the rest of the menu will have me back for dinner. 

Fueled up, we trudged through yucky grey slush towards the Frick, in the hopes of picking up day-of tickets to view the Dutch collection on display (I wrote about it here). Silly me however forgot that Fabritius' Goldfinch was also part of the exhibit, so the lines to enter stretched around the block. Even the The NY Times was on it, while I most certainly wasn't. 

No line is worth standing in frigid temperatures. As such, we moved on to the Whitney for Robert Indiana's retrospective. While we knew the exhibition was more than of his famous "Love" series, my heart swelled when this large, lit-up installation greeted us at the entrance: