I discovered the Frick my first week in New York, during a heat wave in August. The galleries were surprisingly empty, with only the occasional visitor strolling through the rooms, gently creaking the floorboards. I stood for a while in front of the Bronzino, a portrait of a boy standing against a background of green drapery, and then sat in the courtyard for a long, cool hour.
I love that there's a museum dedicated to American art, founded at a time when American artists were underappreciated. The exhibitions are curated with a broad but discerning eye, and the architecture is spectacular. In my experience it's typically much quieter than the obvious choices like the Met and the MoMA - although both are remarkable, there's something I love about the scale and style of the Whitney.