I’d been looking forward to visiting this museum for weeks, and let me tell you, it did not disappoint. At the ticket counter, the woman behind the desk leaned in with the kind of of insider knowledge, I crave, and said, “Start upstairs.” So, naturally, I followed orders.
The featured exhibition was Heritage & the Human Condition by Dean Mitchell, and wow, this man’s work hits you right in the heart. His paintings have this almost documentarian quality, like he’s quietly recording the soul of small-town America before it fades away. You see peeling paint, rusted doors, sun-bleached walls… and somehow, all that wear and tear feels beautiful.
Mitchell’s portraits of family and friends add another layer… deeply personal, tender, and sometimes heartbreaking. One series even shows his process, from rough pencil sketch to the final polished piece. Seeing both side by side is like reading someone’s diary and then watching their life unfold in full color. And his jazz musicians? You can practically hear the saxophones. Some of the pieces were painted after his last time seeing the subjects alive, which adds this quiet gravity that stays with you long after you walk away.
There’s a lot more to say about Mitchell, but I’ll save that for later. In TV news, we call that a tease.
Then, around the corner, the tone shifts from soulful to straight-up nostalgic with a massive toy car collection. This exhibit, Igniting the Spark for Collecting, showcases the joint collections of Stanley Zukowsky and Ronald Bowman, two guys who’ve spent forty-some years scouring flea markets, antique shops, and toy stores for rare and quirky toy cars. Together, they’ve amassed more than 4,000 little vehicles. Stanley’s favorites are the ones with trailers… because apparently restraint is for people who collect shot glasses.
I spotted several Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars that I had as a kid, and thanks to my mom being a proud hoarder, I still have them. They’re in mint condition because she wouldn’t let me take them outside. Honestly, thanks Mom. You were right.
The rest of the second floor dives into the world of NFTs, digital art, algorithms, and blockchain. I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out. These weren’t just screens on walls… some were interactive, some kinetic, and others pure visual poetry in pixels. The mix of movement, code, and creativity made it feel like stepping into the future of art. I was already pretty impressed, and then I walked into the immersive gallery downstairs.
Picture this: the main floor’s bright white lobby, anchored by a massive colored glass chandelier, opens into an even bigger space that hums with light and sound. This is The Erosion of Time, and it’s something special.
Now, because I like a good experiment, I ran the museum’s formal explanation of the exhibit through ChatGPT and asked it to rewrite the whole thing as if a high school football coach were explaining it to his players. The result?
Alright team, huddle up. Here’s the game plan for this exhibit, The Erosion of Time.
First off, time isn’t a straight sprint down the field—it’s more like a broken play. It loops, backtracks, and sometimes stalls out in places heavy with memory and meaning. This show brings together two powerhouse players: Dean Mitchell and Des Lucréce. They’re running different routes, but both are tackling big themes—identity, place, and what it means to be human.
Lucréce is the guy using digital art to show what it’s like when you don’t have a home base. His work feels like being in overtime without knowing which direction the end zone is. He’s asking what happens when you live between worlds—how culture, history, and movement shape who you are.
Mitchell, on the other hand, paints portraits and landscapes that slow the game down. He’s showing the quiet strength and dignity of folks who don’t usually get the spotlight. His work reminds us that even when life hits hard—when poverty or struggle blitzes—you can still find resilience and grace.
Together, these two remind us that time shapes everything: our world, our memories, and the stories we tell about ourselves. Their art challenges us to look back, learn from the playbook, and reimagine what comes next.
Now go on in there, keep your eyes open, and see what you can take away from the field.
The real idea behind The Erosion of Time is that both Mitchell and Des Lucréce’s works… the ones upstairs in their quiet gallery spaces… come alive down here. Mitchell’s people and places materialize as full-scale projections, surrounded by a soundtrack of jazz so crisp you feel like you’re sitting in a smoky club somewhere in New Orleans. Figures stroll through the space, faces from his paintings now moving, breathing, and reminding you that time doesn’t just pass… it lingers.
It’s art that moves. Literally and emotionally. And it made me think, maybe the “real America” that Mitchell paints isn’t gone after all. Maybe it’s just finding new ways to show up.
I did visit the museum on my own, but was lucky enough to attend a reception for the Travel Industry Association of Kansas the next day. I was excited after showing the Mitchell immersion show, the museum switched over to the previous exhibit, Renoir: A Luminous Evolution. I’ve included some pics for you here.
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