I've been living in San Francisco for a few months now, and one thing has become crystal clear: this city breathes art. From the murals that splash across Mission District walls to the sculptures tucked away into quiet corners, the creativity here doesn't sit behind glass; it spills out onto the streets.
Being someone who loves stories told through spaces, I decided to spend my first few weekends exploring the city's museums. What I found was more than just art; it was a collection of experiences showing me different sides of San Francisco: its history, imagination, and heartbeat.
A few reflections from my museum adventures so far.
SFMOMA
My first stop was the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, nestled right in the heart of SoMa. The building itself is a work of art: sleek, bright, and surprisingly serene against the hum of the city outside.
The moment I stepped inside, the first thing I noticed was how alive the space felt: light danced off the white walls, staircases curled up like ribbons, and the air felt full of creative possibility.
Inside, I walked through galleries of bold color and emotion. I paused in front of a work by Mark Rothko, just layers of color, but it felt heavy and profound. Then, a few rooms later, an Andy Warhol print caught my eye; all pop and playfulness, irony. A group of teenagers were taking selfies with it, which felt perfectly fitting.
Up on the rooftop sculpture garden, I sat with a coffee and looked out over the city. From up there, the noise softened. The skyline looked like a series of brushstrokes. And I thought, maybe that's what modern art does best: it makes you see your surroundings differently.
de Young Museum
A few days later, I made my way to Golden Gate Park to visit the de Young Museum. If SFMOMA was bold and architectural, de Young felt organic, like part of the landscape itself.
Its bronze surface glimmered under the shifting sun, and inside the museum a quiet prevailed. Galleries flowed into each other: African sculptures, American paintings, textiles, and photography. The variety was endless, yet it never felt overwhelming.
I sat for some time just in front of a large landscape painting, letting the quiet wrap around me. Outside, the faint sound of birds mixed with the hush of footsteps on the wood floors.
Before leaving, I took the elevator up to the Hamon Observation Tower. The view from the top was breathtaking: the endless stretch of green in the park, the faint outline of the Golden Gate Bridge in the mist, and the ocean shimmering in the distance.
That view and that feeling of stillness - both lingered long after I left.
The Legion of Honor
The Legion of Honor felt like a completely different world. Set on a hill overlooking the Pacific, the museum looks like something out of Europe: neoclassical columns, marble courtyards, and a kind of quiet grandeur.
While walking through the courtyard, I could catch a glimpse of Rodin's The Thinker, sitting timelessly against the blue sky. The air was salty, with a touch of ocean salt, and the distant sound of waves mixed with the whispers of visitors.
Indoors, I walked through rooms crammed with Renaissance paintings, ancient artefacts, and fragile porcelain. The light was soft, almost golden; the wooden floors creaked softly underfoot.
I sat down on a bench and sketched out the rough outline of a sculpture.
Asian Art Museum
One morning when the fog rolled in, it felt like a perfect day for something reflective, so I went to the Asian Art Museum in Civic Centre.
From the outside, the structure looks modest. Inside, it unfolds like a world within worlds: galleries filled with stories across Asia. There were serene Japanese ceramics, powerful Indian bronzes, and intricate Chinese scrolls that seemed to breathe with movement.
After having explored for some time, I sat in the café with a cup of tea, looking out at the city's blend of old architecture and modern glass towers. It reminded me that San Francisco itself is a mosaic; many cultures, many times, all layered together.
The Exploratorium
After days of quiet contemplation, I needed something more vibrant, and that is what the Exploratorium delivered.
Perched on Pier 15, this museum isn't about silence or stillness. It's about play. From the moment I stepped inside, I could hear laughter, conversations and the sound of discovery. Families were experimenting with light and motion; kids were chasing shadows and adults - me included - were getting lost in interactive exhibits.
My favorite part was the Fog Bridge outside. Every few minutes, mist rolled out across the pier, swallowing people in soft white clouds. Oddly beautiful, it was like walking through some dream or another.
The Exploratorium reminded me that curiosity is its own kind of art, a noisy, joyful, endlessly creative celebration of wonder.
California Academy of Sciences
On my last museum weekend, I visited Golden Gate Park and went to see the California Academy of Sciences. I'd heard it housed a planetarium, an aquarium, and a rainforest under one living roof, and sure enough, it did.
The Rainforest Dome was my favorite part. I walked up a spiral path surrounded by butterflies and the hum of life. It was warm and humid, and the air smelled like earth after rain. Then I made my way down into the Steinhart Aquarium, where jellyfish pulsed in the dark water like glowing orbs. Preschoolers leaned, hands and foreheads pressed to the glass, eyes wide with wonder.
To end the day, I went to the Morrison Planetarium. Sitting back in the dark, watching the stars dance across the dome, I felt that familiar feeling of smallness and awe.
Reflections
Each of these museums felt like a conversation with a different side of San Francisco.
SFMOMA showed me the city's boldness, its innovation and imagination. de Young offered stillness and a connection to nature. The Legion of Honour reminded me of history, of tradition, and of echoes of the old world. The Asian Art Museum captured San Francisco's cultural depth and diversity. The Exploratorium brought out the playful, inventive energy of the city. The Academy of Sciences tied it all together: science, art, and life itself. These visits have taught me that art in San Francisco does not stay within the confines of a gallery. It is in the city's skyline, in the rhythm of its neighborhoods, and even in the fog that rolls through like a painter's brushstroke. Every museum I went into didn't just show me art; it showed me how to see the city differently. This was more than sightseeing; it was a quiet conversation with San Francisco itself. And I can't wait for the stories that the next museum or mural will tell me.