by Kathleen Spring

Created on: January 17, 2010   Last Updated: January 18, 2010

The art dealer said, “You must have quite a unique collection.” I blushed.

It was a wonderful and unexpected compliment. My husband and I bought art the way someone buys a flower arrangement or a piece of jewelry. While we had our meager price limit, when we saw something we liked, we bought it.

It was not our goal to have an exquisite enviable collection. The art was for our pleasure. We did not plan to make money from selling it. We had no desire to make our friends jealous.

One of the first pieces we bought was a large canvas with a man in a boat fishing in an imposing ocean, with lots of dark green and black, and dark skies and shadows. It didn’t match the colors in our sofa. It wasn’t bought to fill a blank space on the wall.

My husband was from the ship yards of old Scotland. He loved the sea. I too had a love for being on the water, and whenever we vacationed, I looked for a chance to get a boat ride. Neither of us at the time consciously considered this when buying the painting. It was just instinct.

Another early piece was a colorful painting of the Indian god Krishna, dancing with his wife and attended by musicians. We were fascinated and enraptured by the tiny brush strokes. The beads on the dresses must have been drawn on with the tip of one hair of a brush. A fanciful frame was painted around the image (although we did put it in a wood frame later).

We loved traveling. We had only been outside of the country a couple of times to visit his family, and to hop across the straits to France. The painting had an exotic flair and carried with it dreams of exploring more of the world some day.

As our collection grow, so did my knowledge. Who is Krisna? What kind of tree is that? How did the artist manage to work with watercolor without the colors bleeding? I learned about painting, about other countries, about animals, and history.

So, when the art store director referred to our “collection” I didn’t know how to respond. Is your college education a collection of knowledge? Are your children a collection of your heritage? Is your job a collection of your skill base?

Then I could say, the art was a collection of me. It showed what made me smile, made me curious, made me swoon, made me richer and fuller as a human being. Yes, I am a unique collection. Thank you.

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