Living in New York City, it’s hard not to come across the names of famous artists. Whether by some tourist on the subway raving about the Met or the pretentious kid down the hall dropping into conversation again that he is an art history major, Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, or Pollock are bound to make appearances in conversation.

So what’s the big deal? Are the most famous works of art really worth going all the way down and across town for when you could see full-color reproductions of them in the comfort of your own room? Who really cares?

A lot of people happen to care—and therein lies the problem. It is not so much a question of whether New York’s most famous art is any good (hint: it’s fabulous), but rather a question of whether it is worth braving the crowds that flock to see the same six or seven little cubes of canvas.

The most famous of New York’s art is largely concentrated in two haute museums: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Museum of Modern Art, both of which are free to Columbia students. MoMA is a work of art in itself, with its grandiose geometric design and magnificent views of Midtown Manhattan. The gobs of people that descend upon the museum on a daily basis tend to detract from the magnificence, though, particularly on the fourth- and fifth-floor painting and sculpture galleries.

In the back corner room on the fifth floor across from Terrace 5 café hangs Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Probably the museum’s most famous piece, there is always a crowd around it, buzzing in six different languages and taking pictures. The painting is incredible, for sure, but not worth the 35-40 people that block a decent view on a Sunday afternoon. As art is a very personal visual experience, and most people are fairly selfish, a tourist or two are guaranteed to step in front of you. The crowd assures that true appreciation of the brush strokes and movement of the painting are lost among the hubbub.

Instead of elbowing your way through the Starry Night throng, take a step to the right. The Olive Trees, the other Van Gogh on view at MoMA, hangs right next to the celestial masterpiece, and the entire crowd to the left is apt to be ignoring it. The Olive Trees provides a just as captivating (if not as frequently reproduced) example of Van Gogh’s post-impressionism.

If you turn around after looking at The Olive Trees and walk through the doorway, you will be greeted by Les Desmoiselles d’Avignon. Most likely less crowded than Van Gogh’s work, Picasso’s seminal painting is a depiction of several prostitutes that takes over the wall. The naked bodies of the women are abstract but strikingly real. The scale of it makes it easy to appreciate, even if there is a crowd.

Another famous and large-scale work, Jackson Pollack’s One: Number 31, 1950, is down on the fourth floor. There will probably be throngs of people, and they will probably be annoying, but a print of the work does not capture its essence—the meaning comes from its scale and its texture, neither of which can be fully appreciated by staring at the slide in Art Hum.

Viewing famous works of art at the Met is somewhat of a different ballgame. The sheer quantity of well-known works spreads out the clumps of camera clutchers, meaning that you might encounter more of them, but in smaller groups. It also means that if there is a crowd around one painting, there are plenty of substitutes to visit while you wait.

Waiting for a clear view is more important at the Met, where many of the most famous works are smaller in scale than at MoMA. Duccio’s Madonna and Child, acquired by the museum in 2004 for, according to the information booth attendant, “some ridiculous amount,” is no bigger than a piece of loose leaf paper. Painted on wood with gold and tempera around the year 1300, the luminous details require close attention: to truly appreciate the work, a viewer needs to stand about one or two feet away. Should it be crowded, it’s worth it to elbow your way to the front.

Another must-see is Vermeer’s Woman with a Water Pitcher. The Dutch painter is a master of color and light, creating optical illusions that call for an in-person experience. The soft lighting and overall ambiance of the museum enhance the contrasts of light and shadow. Its power is in its subtlety.

Truly, no print can do justice to the power of any of these works. Generally, it is worth braving the crowds and the flashes of their cameras to experience them. That said, avoid MoMA on Friday nights when it’s free (go to the Met instead), and the Met on Saturday nights (when it is the only museum open). Pick a day when everyone else is playing in the park, and enjoy masters of the brushstroke on Columbia’s dime.