Where are you on the museum-goer spectrum? Do you arrive before opening time, and later the guards have to chase you out a minute after closing? Or is the art simply a necessary torture, a thirst-inducing gauntlet you suffer through to maximize satisfaction when you finally land in the museum bar? Are you either of the aforementioned, and you’ve had the unique pleasure of attending the museum with the person on the spectrum’s opposite end?

Oh, but that spectrum is big. There are those of you that couldn’t care less if it’s a Kirchner or the door to one of the museum’s fuse boxes, yet you meticulously inspect every square thing on the walls, hands behind back, brow furrowed…a dedicated art lover in every respect. And some of you didn’t think you liked art much, but then something happens in one of the rooms—you see that painting that speaks to you, and everything changes. There you are, week after week, “the one that’s always on the bench in front of the…” In front of the what?

Who you are on that spectrum substantially influences how you respond to a museum’s details: its giant front steps (happiest going up or down?), its distinguished scents, creaking floors, the ebb and flow of crowds that are often as interesting as the exhibits themselves. And the final stop nearly everybody loves: the gift shop. It’s an inventory riot full of art cards, that Scream bag you always wanted, clothes, wooden toys, key chains and gum, and all those gorgeous books and magazines: the museum guides, artist collections, children’s books, photo books, books about modernism and antiquity, academic periodicals, hip magazines.