I don’t think I’ve ever traveled as much as I did in 2025, particularly in its final stretch. I spoke to CFA societies in the UK and France, traveled to Mexico to watch my son propose to his girlfriend, then flew directly from Mexico to NYC to attend a small investment conference. Most of the travel (with the exception of Mexico) was for work. But it never felt like work because I traveled with my family (I hate traveling alone). In Europe I was joined by my wife; in New York I was accompanied by my brother Alex.
When I came back to Denver in early December after almost a month away, I told my assistant Meli that I was done traveling for at least the next few months. Of course, the very next day I found myself telling my daughter Hannah about a play I saw in NYC, and before I even finished I caught myself asking her, “This play is only running for another week, and then it will most likely be gone forever. Do you want to go see it?” She was on winter break from the University of Denver and quickly said yes. Her brother Jonah did not require much convincing to join us (he never does), but Mia Sarah still had school. So four days after I returned from NYC, I went back with my older kids for a two-day trip.
The play was the main reason for the trip. My friend Jeffrey Scharf, a value investor just like yours truly, has an affliction for writing plays. His play “Reunions” was running off-Broadway, and as a good friend, I felt I had to see it. I did not expect it to move me so much – so much that I wanted to bring my kids to see it. I was not surprised that they fell in love with it too.
I love NYC during Christmas time. I am not big on celebrating any religious holidays, but crisp air, lights, decorations, even a throng of tourists make this city nostalgically special at this time of year. Nostalgia is the right word; somehow this most iconic American city reminds me of my childhood in Russia. The secular country I grew up in was big on celebrating the New Year with Grandpa Frost – Russia’s answer to Santa Claus. The event was bigger than Thanksgiving and Christmas in the US combined. Walking the streets of NYC layered up in clothes, the cold air hitting your cheeks, and finding comfort in a cup of hot tea – all of this felt somehow nostalgic. Add to this spending time with my kids, going to the theater, and visiting museums… what could be better?
Let me say something about going to museums. I have loved classical music all of my adult life, but my love for visual art only really developed over the last ten years. Growing up, my parents would take me to art museums whenever we visited a large city, but I only went because they did.
In 2012, I started an annual tradition of driving to Santa Fe with my father and Jonah. I always looked forward to it because I got to spend time with them and visit the wonderful Santa Fe Opera. However, the official purpose of the trip was to visit the galleries on Canyon Road. Imagine a sleepy neighborhood where every one-story adobe house has been turned into a tiny gallery – over a hundred of them, all exhibiting art. At some point Hannah joined us on our yearly visit, and we’ve continued the tradition without my father; in the last several years Jonah’s fiancée Molly has tagged along as well.
Looking back, something changed inside of me around the time we started making this annual pilgrimage to Santa Fe’s museums and galleries – a change from “I go because that is what we do” to “I cannot wait to go to a museum.” I even started going to museums on the rare occasions when I traveled by myself. I put on headphones and just dived into the world of paintings from centuries earlier. Just as reading good fiction transports you into a different world and into the lives of others, these visits do the same – with the added benefit of the beauty you see nurturing your soul.
What truly amazed me is that my kids have now developed a desire to visit museums on their own, without any nudging from me. Jonah and I were in Houston in September on a company trip. We had a few extra hours. Without asking me, he found an art museum nearby, and we were looking at Claude Monet’s haystacks twenty minutes later.
The same thing happened on this trip to NYC. At Jonah and Hannah’s insistence, we visited not one, not two, but three world-class museums. We started at the Guggenheim, then moved on to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (the Met) – probably my favorite museum in the world – and concluded with the amazing Frick Collection.
This was our first time visiting the Frick. Henry Clay Frick was a “robber baron” during America’s Gilded Age. The story we heard at the museum was that Frick started his collection either out of guilt or because he wanted to change his legacy after ten people died in a labor strike. In less than a decade, he assembled a truly remarkable art collection. His story reminded me of Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite, who, after reading his own obituary accidentally published in a newspaper, wanted to change how he would be remembered and wound up creating the Nobel Prize. It is amazing what people will do for their legacy.
Back to the art.
As we walked through the museum, I carefully observed my kids, especially Jonah. I remember when he was maybe six years old and we took him to the Denver Art Museum for an impressionist exhibition. He practically sprinted through the whole museum – I could not get him to stop and look at the art. Today, he was inhaling the art slowly, sharing his thoughts with us about each painting he observed.
At the Met he stood in front of one painting – Rembrandt’s “Aristotle with a Bust of Homer” – for five minutes. This is what he later wrote on X:
A man drained of spirit reaches for a sculpture as if it were the last vessel capable of understanding him. In touching this lifeless form, he confronts the truth that he has become just as hollow, finding solace only in something that, like him, no longer possesses a soul.
You may look at this painting and see something else. It does not matter. This is the beauty of art – we bring ourselves into a world created by others.
In addition to walking ten miles a day and our museum adventures, we also visited watch stores while in NYC. I wanted to see the Watches of Switzerland store in Soho (the investor in me accompanies me everywhere), which exhibits a lot of micro brands. It is interesting how researching Watches of Switzerland has sucked me into the world of Swiss watches. I am not as fanatical about them as Jonah or my brother Alex, but I appreciate them a lot more now.
After we returned to Denver, I asked Hannah what her highlights from the trip were. She surprised me when she mentioned visiting watch stores. She is not interested in collecting watches, but sees their artistry clearly. We can debate whether these metal trinkets are art or craft; in my view you can find art anywhere – you just have to be open to seeing it. This is what trips to museums do – they open our eyes to see.
Looking back, I recognize that my parents (my mom passed away when I was 11) gave my family an amazing gift: the ability to see. They never forced us to go to museums; they just took us with them. My father would discuss paintings with us. He did not tell us what to see (though as an artist, he definitely had a lot to share). He asked instead what we saw, and he genuinely listened to what we said. I realize now that my father taught my kids and me to really look and see. I hope, someday, my kids will pass that gift to their kids.
And with this, I present to you a work of art by a new Katsenelson artist – my daughter Hannah. For the first twelve years of her life, she had an incredible teacher: my father. I think he’d be proud.
I hope these articles have added something to your life—a new perspective, a useful framework, or perhaps just a moment of clarity in a noisy world.
May your holidays be filled with what matters most. Thank you for reading.
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