Szépművészeti Múzeum, or as you’ll see it on the grand façade, the Museum of Fine Arts, is one of those places in Budapest that manages to feel both palatial and personable at once. It’s not just the colonnaded entry—though that’s imposing enough—it’s the way the museum holds within its walls everything from works that whisper stories of ancient Egyptian craftsmen to bold gestures from El Greco or the moody confidence of Rembrandt. Tucked on the grand Heroes’ Square (Hősök tere), Szépművészeti, like its art, is part of the story of the city itself.
Built between 1900 and 1906 under the watchful guiding hand of architects Albert Schickedanz and Fülöp Herzog, the museum was almost like Hungary’s own statement of arrival on the European art scene. The Neoclassical exterior is stately, sure, but come inside and you’ll find a maze of galleries that almost feels reverent—like wandering the hallowed halls of an old, old library, except here, the stories are painted and sculpted. The interior stands out for its rotunda, with ceilings adorned so ornately you’ll end up with a slight crick in your neck from constantly looking up.
Let’s talk about the collection, because that’s absolutely why you’re coming here. The museum boasts a range that starts in Ancient Egypt and doesn’t let you go until you’ve made it into the early 20th century. Want to lock eyes with a 3,500-year-old mummy? The Egyptian collection is beautifully presented, mixing stately sarcophagi with papyrus fragments and intricate jewelry. Next door, the Greek and Roman halls are stacked not just with busts of emperors, but daily artifacts that make you feel, for a moment, like you’re wandering through the Mediterranean sunshine. And then there’s the sculpture hall—a sort-of arcaded, sunlit space modeled on an ancient basilica—where marble gods and mortals cast their cool glances everywhere you turn.
Of course, the biggest stars hang in the Old Masters’ galleries. Leonardo da Vinci himself only makes the briefest cameo (they own a lovely drawing, not a painting), but there’s treasure everywhere. The Spanish collection, especially if you love Goya and his sly, dark humour or the elongated saints of El Greco, is exceptional—one of the best in Central Europe, actually. Wander further and you’ll run into portraits by Tintoretto, scenes of Biblical suspense by Pieter Bruegel, still lifes, landscapes and too many saints to count. What’s lovely is the element of surprise: turn a corner, and you find yourself alone with a deeply expressive head by Rembrandt, all swirling earth tones and introspection.
Downstairs, sometimes you’ll catch a small crowd hovering around the museum’s changing exhibitions—these can range from modern photography to themed blockbusters like a rare Rafael showing. If you time your visit right, you might catch one of the immersive events that seem to bring the galleries alive after-hours, mixing music, conversation, and art.
But even if you only come to quietly wander, Szépművészeti Múzeum rewards curiosity. There are plenty of little architectural quirks—a nook with strange medieval reliquaries, an unexpected view into the greenery of Városliget (City Park), a sunbeam catching dust motes in the air of a hushed Italian gallery. You’ll probably spend longer than you meant to here, forget the time entirely, and maybe emerge blinking into sunlight, appetite whetted for a coffee or something sweet at one of Budapest’s grand cafés. But most of all, you’ll have a sense that you stood for a while with the beautiful things, and that’s something worth remembering.
