Here’s why visiting museums between Christmas and New Year’s makes me a better leader

My working days often unfold in either Zoom minimalist workplaces or glass-walled conference rooms with sleek windows, filled with entrepreneurs pitching ideas. As a marketing executive and startup mentor, I lead strategies for companies of various sizes, guide founders at startup accelerators TechStars and Founder Institute, and serve as an awards jury member. My calendar overflows with executive consultations, brand campaign planning, and deadline sprints.

But between Christmas and New Year’s, I trade those sterile spaces for museum halls alive with color and history.

It wasn’t easy getting out the door the first time I did this in 2021. I was filled with fears. What if a startup stalled? What if a client bailed?

Eventually, though, I did it. I carved out full days for museums. No notifications mid-visit, no news feeds. Just art—and a notebook.

This wasn’t a lazy holiday stroll. I didn’t set out to make this a blueprint. I just craved difference. What I didn’t expect was how profoundly it refueled me. I feared it would derail momentum; instead, it unlocked clarity. 

If you’re a leader convinced you can’t afford the pause, that’s precisely why you must. Here’s how to begin.

What the museum ritual looked like

I timed it consciously: Christmas week plus New Year’s Eve, overlapping holidays when clients slow down anyway, so I missed zero critical days.

While I was out, my colleagues handled brand campaigns; an assistant triaged the rest. If a force majeure broke out, they’d route it.

Christmas Eve morning last year, I headed out. Here’s a day in the ritual:

Slow walk to an art gallery, followed by unhurried coffee, sketching initial impressions. Then, hours absorbing art. No music in headphones, no quick email scans. Full presence.

Leaving the gallery, I wandered to the local Christmas market near the town hall. I savored warm coffee and bagels, relishing the heat of the cup in my hands.

By the end of the day, the inspiration hit. I filled my notebook—not pitches, but reflections: yearly goals reframed, market blind spots, forgotten creative hunches, leadership values dusty from neglect.

Insights flowed because I carved the space. They stuck.

Three insights that reshaped me

Here are three insights I stumbled upon while I took a moment for a pause:

1. Different lenses multiply breakthroughs.

A single perspective limits you. As I moved from the Cubism hall to the Impressionism hall in one museum, I recalled a direct-to-consumer brand struggling in Asia. They were obsessed with premium customers but missing the mass market. My walking and thinking led to a simple pivot: Tailor messaging to local culture. Sales took off. 

Now my mornings begin with one question: “What lens am I using today?” Calm. Global. Daring. I lead from vision now, not reaction. The world meets me there.

2. Stillness trumps speed.

Startups move fast. Metrics can triple in a month. But speed under pressure clouds your judgment. In one case, a data management company struggled with positioning. Their new product features were failing despite endless debates. After the Christmas pause, fresh ideas clicked. We repositioned the product and landed a major client in days. Now I always ask myself: “Is this vision or just velocity?” The pause comes first.

3. Dare to break the rules.

Art thrives by breaking conventions. Picasso’s Cubism shattered traditional views, just like the best startups do. During one gallery visit in December, I thought about a tech team stuck in safe, predictable marketing. We shifted to bold, unexpected ideas, like blending AI visuals with Renaissance art vibes in January. It felt risky, but the client loved it. Sales jumped. Now I ask every team: “What’s the rule we can break?” Daring moves win in tech.

Why more leaders should try a museum ritual

Your mind craves depth, not distraction. We grant muscles recovery; why starve our creativity? Step into galleries, and ideas resurface—vision sharpens, you reconnect to the leader unswayed by noise.

Perhaps museums aren’t your catalyst: Lakeside solitude, hiking trails, or a quiet café moment might move you more. The central point—that leaders need deliberate downtime to recharge and generate catalytic ideas—remains.

Taking a break didn’t slow me down; it realigned me to essentials. We mistake time off for indulgence. Wrong. It’s leadership discipline—slowing down to think about what’s vital.