I grew up in the American South, looking for any little patch of shade and a breeze and dreaming of the world that I knew was somewhere else.
I sang loudly and in tune, played hard, got dirty, climbed trees to get a better view, got dressed up willingly but then ruined my clothes, and generally refused to conform to any expectation that I might grow up to be a proper southern lady.
In high school, I pounced on my dad’s Horizon and Atlantic Monthly magazines and read his encyclopedias, spending afternoons and weekends trying to find the world and my place in it.
A college scholarship led me deeper into the search, as I made my first real study of the art world and committed myself immediately and wholeheartedly to postmodernist movements in the visual arts, dance, and performance. Almost ten years later in grad school, I started to look back at the centuries of art that I had willfully ignored. My in-depth remedial reading started what has become a lifelong program of probing: What can art do? What is it about some works of art that make them seem important, not just for right now but far into the future?
I will argue these four things, here and everywhere:
That’s what I want Cultureburg to do: connect great art and smart people. This is what makes my life make sense to me: opening minds—starting with my own— since 1955.