Three Visionary Collectors, Three DC Museums: A Cultural Companion Journey from Phillips to Hillwood to Glenstone

There are moments when timing becomes its own kind of curatorial magic. Our recent Cultural Companion series—three days, three museums, three distinct visions—benefited from just such luck. A snowstorm swept through Washington, DC, quieting the city and leaving us with hushed galleries, pristine grounds, and the rare gift of moving slowly and thoughtfully through art that was never meant to be rushed.

The Phillips Collection, Hillwood Estate, Museum & Gardens, and Glenstone could not be more different on the surface. Yet they are deeply connected by a shared origin story: each was founded by an individual collector with strong personal taste and an equally strong belief that art gains meaning when it is shared. What unfolded over these three days was a conversation about intimacy, legacy, and how private passion becomes public gift.

Day One: The Phillips Collection — A Home That Became a Gallery

We began at The Phillips Collection, the most intimate of DC’s major museums and the first museum of modern art in America. Founded by Duncan Phillips, it still carries the feeling of a home that gently evolved into a gallery. Rooms open into rooms; sightlines matter; paintings speak to one another across doorways.

We were fortunate to spend time with Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party just before it leaves Washington to travel on tour—a reminder that even beloved, seemingly permanent works are always in motion. The painting’s warmth, conviviality, and ease felt especially poignant on a cold winter morning.

One of the gifts of moving through museums as a Cultural Companion is permission for honest response. My guest was charmed and moved by Renoir, yet felt little connection to the Rothko paintings—works my husband deeply loves. That contrast sparked one of our richest conversations of the day: how modern art asks us not for consensus, but for self-awareness. At The Phillips, personal taste is not only allowed—it’s part of the legacy.

Day Two: Hillwood — A Life Fully Lived in Art

If The Phillips feels like a home adapted for art, Hillwood is unapologetically a home lived in by art. Marjorie Merriweather Post’s estate remains deeply personal, from the dressing rooms and kitchens to the formal entertaining spaces. Walking through Hillwood feels less like visiting a museum and more like being welcomed into someone’s very particular, very beautiful world.

We lingered over the extraordinary Russian and French decorative arts that define Hillwood’s collections—from luminous Sèvres porcelain to gilded furniture, textiles, and objects that speak to imperial taste and diplomatic history. Particular attention was drawn to the grand paintings displayed in the Pavilion, a space designed not only for viewing art but also for gathering: films were screened here for guests, while staff could watch from the balcony above, a reminder of how seamlessly culture and daily life intertwined on the estate.

Hillwood tells a story of collecting as caretaking. Post preserved, studied, and ultimately shared her collections with intention. Experiencing the estate in winter—quiet, elegant, and unhurried—allowed us to notice details that might be missed in busier seasons. It felt like a private visit, one built on trust between collector and guest.

Day Three: Glenstone — Art, Landscape, and Listening

Our final day brought us to Glenstone, where the museum itself feels like an artwork—an object carefully sited within landscape, light, and time. Founded by Mitchell and Emily Rales, Glenstone offers a radically different model: fewer works, more space, and an emphasis on reflection rather than consumption.

One of Glenstone’s great strengths is its people. Throughout the indoor galleries, we engaged with warm, knowledgeable, and generous gallery guides who helped us make meaning of the works without ever telling us what to think. That spirit of shared inquiry extended outdoors as well.

We were extraordinarily fortunate to experience private time with both a member of the grounds team—a horticulturist who spoke passionately about meadows, trees, and the bluebird boxes crafted from downed wood after the derecho—and a docent who guided us through the outdoor sculpture collection.

Seeing Jeff Koons’s Split-Rocker in winter was a particular treat. Without the lush blooms of summer, we could truly understand its structure, planting strategy, and maintenance. Nearby, Richard Serra’s Contour 290 asserted its quiet, monumental presence against the pale landscape.

Indoors, we spent meaningful time with works by Michael Heizer and Simone Leigh, especially Sentinel, which invited reflection on presence, power, and form. Glenstone asked us to slow down, to listen—to the art, to the land, and to one another.

Three Collectors, Three Visions, One Shared Belief

Across three days, what stayed with us most was not any single masterpiece, but the clarity of vision behind each institution. The Phillips Collection offers dialogue and intimacy. Hillwood offers immersion and lived experience. Glenstone offers space, stillness, and deep care for context.

From a home that feels like a gallery, to a home preserved as it was lived, to a museum that is itself an object for contemporary art, these spaces remind us that collecting is an act of storytelling. And when collectors choose to share their stories, they invite us to find our own place within them.

This is the heart of a Cultural Companion experience at PS Nest: moving through art with curiosity, comfort, and connection—especially when the snow falls, the crowds disappear, and the museums feel, once again, like personal gifts.