The galleries nearest the entrances/exits (there's no right way to start or end) hold the most daze-worthy pieces. One end focuses on the figure—a theme that, when you're stoned, can really make you feel self-conscious, or it might bring on a kind of body high. René Magritte's large bronze sculpture 'Delusions of Grandeur,' a funneled three-level layer cake of a female torso, hit me in not such a great way—in my difficult-to-decipher notes, I scrawled "more like 'Delusions of Gran-dumb.'" Though I usually love Magritte, I struggle with images of fractured or amputated female bodies created by male artists (and there are many), and here it doesn't help that I'm confronted by a massive legless, armless tits-ass-abs-crotch totem as soon as I walk in. I'm trying to keep my own body in check, paranoid about being solid mass in space where there is other, larger, more stable mass elsewhere. How can I be so sure my head and limbs won't fall off, too?