MoMA Mixtape: Caroline Schiff Makes a Confection of Music, Art, and Food

When I was invited to make a MoMA Mixtape, I said, “Absolutely, let’s go.” I have always loved museums—getting lost in the works, the textures, the moods, the mediums. Growing up, I spent a lot of time at MoMA and in museums in general. A born art lover, if I wasn’t making a mess in the kitchen I could be found drawing, painting, and making collages. I’m a pastry chef, and in my world food is art and art can be food. Through my exploration, I wandered and let myself be drawn to the unfamiliar and compelling. I let emotions, sounds, textures, and flavors come to me as I drank in each artwork, letting them transport me to times, places, and flavors beyond the confines of the gallery.

Pablo Picasso. Three Women at the Spring. Fontainebleau, 1921

Pablo Picasso’s Three Women at the Spring + Leon Bridges’s “River”

I dove right into this soothing Picasso. The calm softness. Flowing water, maybe in early spring, when it still holds onto a little invigorating bite of winter. The fresh spring makes me feel renewed, and cleansed—I can feel the cool water flowing over my skin and washing away whatever weighs on my mind. With its calming melody, “River,” by Leon Bridges, drifts into my head like a gentle stream. It’s a song about longing for a new beginning, almost a rebirth. “Tip me in your smooth waters, I go in,” he croons, while I imagine an île flottante. Three soft meringues, like the three women, floating in cool crème anglaise.

Caroline Schiff at MoMA

Lygia Clark’s Breaking the Frame + Gal Costa’s “Vou Recomeçar”

Pushing past confines and boundaries, finding freedom, disregarding the rules: Clark is creating lines and spaces where she wants to. It feels powerful and revolutionary. She is protesting through art, revolting against being stifled and oppressed by the harsh Brazilian dictatorship. She’s part of the avant-garde Tropicália movement and critical of her world. Gal Costa’s “Vou Recomeçar” is also about change and taking control, about finding a new philosophy. “And my writing will be much different / the philosophy I change in my mind,” she sings. Part bossa nova, part little funk, it’s forceful and progressive, like Clark’s painting. With Brazil on my mind, I can taste the savory, cheesy cassava-flour bites called pão de queijo.

Lygia Clark. Breaking the Frame. Composition no. 5. 1954

Max Beckmann. Family Picture. Frankfurt, 1920

Max Beckman’s Family Picture + Mischa Spoliansky’s “Sehnsucht”

I am flooded with emotions as I’m transported to a time and place of uncertainty, melancholy, heartbreak, and brooding in postwar Germany. It’s a somber family story of anguish, reeling from war and somehow foreshadowing the next one. Art and life are stifled in this cramped room. The space feels crowded and uneasy, full of longing for something and someplace else. A man reads from the newspaper, seemingly exhausted, his eyes drooping with despair. The family exists in a state of malaise, trapped in their space, their society, and each other. But a subtle brightness comes from the piano in the corner, and the man with a trumpet. Mischa Spoliansky’s “Sehnsucht” means wistful longing. There’s a pining violin, a soft heartache from the piano, and a drifting air of lugubriousness. I can taste mohnschnecken, a poppy seed pastry snail. Nostalgic, of a place, and slick with a honey glaze for something sweet among the bitterness.

Arthur Dove’s Willows + The Strokes’ “Soma”

I approach this work—twisted, distorted, and dreamy—with a playful curiosity. Willows slither around each other, dancing sideways, giving way to a house hidden deep in the woods. It’s out of a trippy fairytale. It helps my mind depart from reality, and I can smell the trees, the earth tones, the shades of green. I hear “Soma” by the Strokes, as verisimilitude falls by the wayside, “racing against sunbeams, losing against fig trees.” Twisted as the willows is a dark chocolate babka, with its swirly insides and depth of flavor.

Arthur Dove. Willows. 1940

Man Ray (Emmanuel Radnitzky). Legend from Revolving Doors. 1926

Man Ray’s Legend from Revolving Doors + Talking Heads’ “Naive Melody (This Must Be the Place)”

I’m feeling joyful and buoyant in front of this series of pochoirs, as my eyes bounce and dart from each vivid display of lines, curves, and layers. The electric, bright colors and the radiating lines and shapes are a visual feast. They have an unfinished quality, like an ongoing study in vibrancy. The sweet opening notes of “This Must Be the Place” by Talking Heads bounce into my mind—“it’s ok, I know nothing’s wrong,” David Byrne sings. The cheerful synth is bright and jubilant. The lines, curves, and layers make me think of a croissant, with its delightful, buttery lamination.

Caroline Schiff at MoMA. Photo: Naeem Douglas. Shown: Piet Mondrian. Broadway Boogie Woogie. 1942–43

Piet Mondrian’s Broadway Boogie Woogie + Duke Ellington’s “Take the A Train”

As I turn a corner into the next gallery, a Mondrian grabs my gaze like a glowing Broadway marquee. Its grid of primary colors, right angles, and sharp negative spaces evoke the buzz of Midtown. I see cars and buses speeding through intersections, buildings towering above sidewalks, and a cacophony of sounds coming from every corner—rolling out of stage doors, subway platforms, and windows above—that are all somehow melodious together. Duke Ellington’s “Take the A Train” makes me want to sway and tap my feet, and I crave an oversized New York–style black-and-white cookie.

Liubov Popova’s Painterly Architectonic + The Mooney Suzuki’s “Electric Sweat”

Sharp layers, a juxtaposition of pink and red with black and gray. It’s like a stack of papers, the pile lifting off the canvas, waiting to be organized and put in line, but for now they remain chaotic and askew. It’s at once abstract yet clear and geometric. There’s energy in its colors and shapes. It’s edgy. I hear the riffs of “Electric Sweat” by the Mooney Suzuki and it “must be the electricity.” I want to crack into a mille-feuille, stacked and studded with red raspberries, and coated with a punchy pink glaze. My fork stabs through as it shatters into flakes and sheets of crispy pastry.

Liubov Popova. Painterly Architectonic. 1917

Amedeo Modigliani. Anna Zborowska. 1917

Amedeo Modigliani’s Anna Zborowska + Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon”

I’m sucked in by the painting’s pure black eyes and elongated, elegant features. She’s a mysterious figure and I can’t tell if she’s empty or profound, complex, and full of wisdom. Perhaps those eerie eyes let us peer into an abyss of secrets. I gaze for what feels like an hour. I walk away and then I come back. I decide she’s a little magical, maybe even witchy. She’s “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac. “She is like a cat in the dark / and then she is to darkness,” like a deep, dark chocolate budino.

Mark Rothko. No. 1 (Untitled). 1948

Mark Rothko’s No. 1 Untitled + Antonio Vivaldi’s Spring

A blush of sweetness and warmth emanates from this expanse of delicate color. It’s the largest canvas in my mixtape and it floods my sight. Rothko’s fluid, broad strokes in earth-like tones and dusty rose create layers across this vast canvas. I turn around to see his solemn melancholia on the opposite wall, but as I turn back, I feel the soothing exhale of a softer time. It breathes spring. I hear Vivaldi’s Spring play as I inhale warmth, emerging from darkness. I feel the earth give way to buds and stalks through thawed ground. The blue is a puddle of April rain; the green is young leaves. The pink is rhubarb, one of the first signs of the new season. In its raw form, the tartness makes you pucker, but sugar tames its punch; it can be transformed into a cool scoop of refreshing sorbet.

Caroline Schiff at MoMA

Fernand Léger. Three Women. 1921–22

Fernand Léger’s Three Women + HAIM’s “Hallelujah”

Three more women stare at the Picasso across the room. But Léger places them in a chic and modern world. It’s a relatable scene of repose, indulgence, and bonding. There’s such a casualness to their closeness as friends, or maybe they’re sisters, that I feel comfortable in their space. The women lounge, snack, drink, read. They’re chatting and probably gossiping, which we all love to do but never admit to. “Hallelujah,” by HAIM, also celebrates the beauty of companionship, “laughing together like our thoughts are harmonized / been that way since ‘95,” and I’m over here making hot fudge ice cream sundaes for people I love.