Why I Collect Art

An Exploration of the World and Myself

My interest in art is a very personal journey and I will begin these thoughts with a brief background. Heidegger would say I was "thrown" to a most fortunate spot in this universe. My mother was a music conservatory graduate and a lifelong educator. My father was a mathematician and lifelong educator. My parent's values and life style had been forged in the foundry of the Great Depression and most family decisions had to pass the "practical" test first. Thus my childhood exposure to "The Arts" consisted of those areas of creativity which are both abundant in the South and free or inexpensive: music and literature.

My first remembrance of my conscious being stirred by the visual arts was in Candler Hall when I was a student at Oxford College. There was an exhibition of Dali prints which "stopped me cold." I lingered for a few minutes where Dali's "Last Supper" spoke-to me far more than Leonardo's "Last Supper" had in the many times I had seen it in my youth (virtually every church I had been in).

I managed to suppress my interest. After all, who had time for strange pictures and strange feelings on the way to chemistry class? However, it happened again two years later when I discovered wood cuts by an art professor named Robert Roagell hanging in the Wesley Foundation in Chapel Hill; N.C. This time I bit and purchased a wood cut of Judas and a wood cut showing a "woe is me" Christian carrying his large burden. I still have those wood cuts forty five years later and they still provoke a conversation which has changed as I have changed. Once again I managed to suppress my interest. If I did not have time for "art" in college, I certainly did not have time in medical school. Medicine is a very jealous mistress and I did not return to art for many years.

Fate then "threw" me to Montana where I lived for some 25 years. I lived in Great Falls and one block away was a large motel build like John Portman's Regency Hyatt House in Atlanta with rooms surrounding a large open space. Each year there was a western art auction to celebrate Charles M. Russell's birthday. I initially did not go to the auction but more than 100 guest rooms were cleared of furniture and occupied by artists and "galleries". These galleries provided a cornucopia of art for the novice and admission was free. Thus by gradual osmosis I was introduced to Western Art. The typical openness and friendliness of the Intermountain West allowed my interest to build without being offended by the "snoot" so frequently found in more informed art venues.

I started with Western Art because that was my opportunity. It, also, appealed to my straight forward personality. Cowboys are American icons. Native Americans are both noble and tragic figures. The Rocky Mountains and their wildlife are spectacular. I did not have to wonder whether a black square containing another black square at a slightly different angle and with a slightly different shade of black represented creativity or was a cousin of a cow pie.

As my interest in Western Art grew an unexpected thing happened. I became interested in visual art in general. Along the way I discovered another phenomenon. People actually displayed art in their homes! Visiting museums was no longer sufficient. I wanted to live with it. Collecting became my major interest outside my profession and I could visit and commune with my art when I got home, be it midnight or a week end off. These interactions changed. Sometimes it was simply a sense of inspiration and awe. Sometimes it was analytical; how did that artist put those colors together and make that work? Like many other endeavors in life, the more I learned the more rewarding the experience became. 

Collecting art is certainly not always a solitary activity. There are many unintended consequences and almost all of them are positive. I have met many wonderful and interesting people. I have developed friendships with fellow collectors, artist, and gallery owners. A whole new world has opened.

In addition, since art is a reflection of its time I have been taken back. I became friends with a western artist who also painted in an American impressionist style. That led me to the Paris impressionist who then led me to Turner and Titian and on to Florence and the High Renasissance which of course led me back to ancient Greece. That journey has been far more fun and far more valuable to my understanding of the world and self than required courses in Western Civilization ever were during my formal education.

Formerly, I thought that collecting art was an effete activity for the wealthy whose egos needed the social prestige. That's probably true but now I see it as a positive. One could spend a lifetime enjoying museums with famous art in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Chicago and Washington D.C. However, there are many smaller museums all over this country that are not particularly well known but offer wonderful experiences. My favorite here in Georgia is the Booth Museum in Cartersville.

This has been a brief review of my journey with visual art. It has been most rewarding. However, even more important than the art itself has been the window it has opened for an exploration of my own humanity and my search for understanding of my "grain of sand's" place in this universe.

L. M. Willson