Curls & Art: Visiting the Walters Art Museum

Last weekend, I spent the afternoon wandering through the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore with my roommate, Dailyn, and my friend Aminata. We had been discussing for weeks the idea of doing something that would take our minds off classes and screens, and when I reminded them that the Walters is entirely free, the plan came together instantly. In a city where everything seems to cost more each day, there is something beautiful about walking into a grand marble building filled with centuries of art and realizing it costs nothing to be there.

The moment we stepped inside, the air felt cooler and quieter, as if the museum itself was a pause button for the chaos of Baltimore’s busy streets. The light from the tall windows poured onto the polished floors, and the sound of footsteps echoed softly around us. We started on the top floor, where sculptures and ancient pieces from Asia greeted us. Dailyn was drawn to the intricate designs of a Chinese bronze vessel. At the same time, Aminata stood silently in front of a delicate Japanese scroll painting, trying to imagine the steady hand it must have taken to create something so perfect.

From there, we drifted into the African collection, where the colors and textures seemed to vibrate with life. Masks with bold patterns stared back at us, each one with its own personality. I loved how the art told stories of community, spirituality, and history without needing a single word. Baltimore is a city full of stories, too, and I couldn't help but think about how each piece reflected the power of human creativity, even during difficult times.

We then climbed to the European galleries, moving from ancient artifacts to the elegance of Renaissance paintings. The rooms felt like stepping into another world. Gold frames shimmered, marble figures stood frozen in graceful poses, and every corner seemed to whisper something about faith, beauty, and time. Yet even surrounded by this grandeur, one piece stopped me completely.

It was Kehinde Wiley’s Saint Amelie.

At first glance, it looked like a stained glass window from an old cathedral. The light glowed through the glass, painting the room in rich colors of blue, gold, and red. But as I looked closer, I realized the figure inside the window was not a medieval saint. It was a young Black man. His name, I learned from the plaque, was Kern Alexander, one of Wiley’s models from Brooklyn. The piece is one of twelve in a series that reimagines historic stained glass art, giving it a modern and deeply human touch.

Standing there, I felt something shift inside me. It was more than admiration for the craft. Wiley had taken a space traditionally reserved for saints and divine figures and placed someone often unseen in that position of reverence. In that moment, I understood what it meant to be both seen and celebrated. The glass shimmered like sunlight, and for a second, the whole museum seemed to breathe.

I looked over at Dailyn and Aminata, who were just as mesmerized. None of us spoke for a while. There was nothing to add. Sometimes art does not just hang on the wall; it reaches out and pulls you in.

Later, as we stood at the top of the courtyard, surrounded by marble columns, we marveled at how incredible it was that this experience was free. We were even touched by the number of families enjoying a free event at the bottom. No tickets, no student discounts, no barriers. Just open doors and open minds. The Walters Art Museum believes that everyone should have access to art, and that belief changes the atmosphere. You can see families wandering with strollers, students sketching quietly, and others discovering new worlds, all in one place.

The Walters Art Museum is more than just a building filled with art. It is a reminder that beauty and reflection should never be a luxury. Free access to art means free access to imagination, empathy, and the kind of quiet awe that makes you see the world differently when you step back outside.

As we walked out into the late-afternoon light, the city felt different, somehow brighter. Maybe it was because we had just spent hours surrounded by creativity and history, or perhaps it was because we had seen something that reminded us of our own place in that story.

If you ever find yourself in Baltimore, be sure to visit the Walters. Go with friends, go alone, go when you need to feel connected to something larger than yourself. You don't need a ticket; just curiosity and a little time to wander.