When I took an art appreciation course in college, I figured it was an easy-peasy way to kill a couple of credits and catch some shut-eye to make up for the endless partying at the Orange and Brew (popular hang out where the bartender gave me free drinks in exchange for impromtu Spanish lessons.) I planned to breeze through this class, and not let it really sink in. I had no idea art would change my life so profoundly. I immediately fell in love with a masterpiece. A sight to behold, a glorious creation of flesh and bone, and his name was Professor Young.
After our first meeting, I lovingly nicknamed him Professor Yum, and made sure to sit waaaay up in the first row, 5th seat over, so I be could be ultra close to his desk and enjoy the fragrance of his aftershave for those precious 50 minutes we shared 3 times a week. Unfortunately, Yum was too busy drooling over the works of brilliant artists (and visiting his fellow teacher wife on campus) to ever notice me in my tattered GAP sweatshirt and knock-off Birkenstocks I only wore in the hopes they would make me look more “artsy” and desirable.
I later discovered what really made me crush on my professor was not just his longing hazel eyes, his full lips, or that honey-colored curl that would fall ever so gently over his left eye when he was engrossed in lecture –it was his deep passion for art that made him truly irresistible. He would say inspiring things like “close your eyes and imagine for a moment a world without the brilliance of color, would you want to live there?” I would go home on a cloud and quickly became an admirer of art, in all its breathtaking forms.
Art tastes change with age, and I no longer purchase “posters” of great works to hang in my dorm room. I do what I can to enjoy them with the naked eye and savor the moment. I am quite familiar with the Louvre after several trips, spending hours in a daze admiring the fragile frescoes, bonding with the armless Venus de Milo and the headless sculpture of Samothrace, and wishing I could be alone in that grand castle for just one night without the commotion of the never-ending crowds. I live just blocks from The Met in Manhattan, and I’ve purchased original works from hopeful, nameless artists on city street chasing their dream.
Pictures are always nice, but as my dear professor would say.. art really lives in your soul.
This post really made me chuckle! I took an econ class just because the professor was so cute and then he got injured right at the beginning and was out the rest of the semester. Oh the things we did as co-eds.
Professor Yum!!! Hee hee hee. I love that notion, “art really lives in your soul.” Very nice post today, Maria!
Professor Yum taught you well.
You paint a very vivid portrait of your teacher! Nice work.
Do you happen to have Prof. Yum’s address? I, um, was just curious… you know…
You never wrote “Love you” on your eyelids like that scene from Indiana Jones, did you?
I know what you mean about passion being irresistible.
Once one begins to collect original art, there’s no turning back. A print will simply not do. I applaud you for purchasing art from artists on the streets. As I’ve said here before, art chooses its owners.
Blessings!
I had to laugh about the ‘buying art posters’….I did the same the first time I went to the Musee D’Orsay in Paris. And no matter how old I get, Paris is still one of my favorite cities in the whole world.
Oh yes–the Louvre without crowds–wouldn’t it be nice to see Winged Victory without the throng around it?