Sitting in my dining room on a chair usually reserved for guests, I’m lost in the oil pastel by artist Eric Barth hanging above the mantle. When my friend Carol first saw the painting, it evoked an emotional response. She was moved to tears and said, “I wonder about that piece of melancholy in me and the beauty in this piece that eases that feeling.”

Inspirational and powerful, art speaks to each of us in different ways. Like Carol, I’m moved by the beauty and feeling of isolation the painting conveys - the calming colors and natural light, the vast and open space, the mysterious path ending at a fork in the road. When I think about the art Rocky and I have collected over the years, I remember exactly where we were and what it was about the piece that drew us in. My art journey has been extraordinary, and I can’t help but honor and thank the mentors who encouraged and guided me along the way. The lessons I’ve learned from them profoundly impacted my life and career.

My passion for design began with my Mother. It wasn’t unusual to come home from school and find her rearranging a room or painting a wall a great new color. When she owned her interior design studio, The House on Main Street, she’d let me tag along to clients’ homes, where I’d watch her turn ordinary rooms into extraordinary spaces. I paid attention to her accessorizing and furniture placement, the kind of lighting she liked, how high she hung a painting, and her interactions with clients. Mom was my first mentor and taught me the significance of art and design in our lives.

I don’t remember having mentors in high school, probably because I was more into my social life than academics. And many college art instructors in the late 60s and early 70s were involved in the politics of the day, so it wasn’t the best time to be learning the fundamentals of art and design. Fortunately, my degree in design came in handy when I found a job at a furniture store whose owners understood the importance of educating their young sales staff. Once a week we had classes on furniture construction, design fundamentals, the latest inventory, and my favorite... how to close a sale.

After moving to Mechanicsburg, an artist and good friend, Mike Major, proposed opening an art gallery in Urbana, Ohio and asked if I would be interested in managing it. With Sarah and Jake in school, I jumped at the opportunity. In 1983, after months of planning and construction, The Major-Saxbe Fine Arts Gallery opened its doors to a large, enthusiastic crowd, and it was the first art gallery and framing studio in Champaign County. I’ll always be thankful to Mike for taking me under his wing and having faith in me to run a gallery.

The Columbus Museum of Art became a big part of my life after moving back to Columbus in 1987. I toured adults and children through the Museum’s collection for eleven years. The docent training sessions and lectures exposed me to a larger art world and introduced me to a new circle of art friends and acquaintances.

It was at a museum I first met Babs Sirak, a beloved community member and owner of Winning Images, a local art consulting firm. Babs spoke on corporate art collecting and described (with visuals) how her company acquired and installed art for the new Huntington National Bank building, the most extensive corporate collection in Columbus. Smitten with her presentation, passion, poise, and knowledge of art, I was determined to meet her. I waited my turn in line, and when we spoke, it was as if I had known her my entire life. We made a date to meet again.

Babs and her husband, Howard Sirak, were Columbus’s most prominent art collectors. When I arrived at their home in Bexley for our appointment, Babs escorted me into the library. I gazed around the art-filled room, and before my eyes hung Monet’s “Basket Of Grapes,” a Matisse still life, a portrait by Bonnard, Cezanne’s “Seated Bather,” and a still life by one of my favorite artists, Giorgio Morandi. Babs and I talked about the paintings, our passion for the arts, and our families. She radiated love and made me feel at home; I stayed for the afternoon.

Before leaving, we toured the house and talked about other pieces in their vast collection - an art lesson unlike any other. Babs’ stories, anecdotes, and descriptions of the works she loved so much sent chills through me. We entered the dining room and stopped at a large Rodin sculpture, “The Age Of Bronze,” sitting on a pedestal by the window. She said I could touch it, something you would never do in a museum. After quickly tapping it with one finger, Babs said, “No, I mean to run your fingers up and down, so you’ll feel Rodin’s fingerprints.” As I carefully glided my hand across the sculpture’s cool surface, sure enough, his fingerprints were there.

After meeting with Babs’ partner, Loann Crane, another arts advocate, collector, and respected community member, I joined Winning Images and began my fantastic journey with these two remarkable women. We worked with individual artists and galleries, placing art in business firms, universities, hospitals, banks, and private homes. Artists Denny Griffith, Stephen Pentak, Aminah Robinson, and James Mason were just a few of the talented artists we had the privilege of representing.

When Babs passed away in 2004, I lost my best friend, mentor, surrogate mother, and the most incredible art teacher I’ve ever known. Babs and Loann had an enormous impact on my life and opened the door for Rocky and me to a whole new group of loving, lifelong friends.

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I first met Aminah Robinson at an artists’ event at the Museum, and like everyone else, was in awe of her art and her aura. A friend soon arranged a visit to her home on Sunbury Road. It was filled to the brim with furniture, books, art supplies, leather journals, piles of artwork and ongoing projects, and dogs running everywhere. All the rooms - the living room, the kitchen, the basement, were working spaces. In Aminah's world, art and life were synonymous. Everything about her was fascinating - the way she moved, her passion for art, her clothes, penetrating eyes, piercings, long fingers, and artists’ hands. Being in her presence was a true spiritual experience.

Our friendship grew, and soon I represented Aminah and promoted her art. We joined forces with Hammond Harkins Gallery in 1997 and curated Aminah’s first commercial gallery exhibition in Columbus. Clients, friends, and community members from all walks of life came to see Aminah’s art displayed throughout the gallery. It was breathtaking. We continued to place her art in homes and businesses.

Aminah and I traveled to Israel together in 1998 and lived in an artist's residence in Herzliya, arranged by the Ohio Arts Council. On one excursion, we found ourselves in Jerusalem shopping in the Old City markets. The streets were so packed you could barely move, and it seemed everyone was watching Aminah; she was an enigma. When we stopped to look at something, people gathered to shake her hand and ask questions about her art. They were enthralled by Aminah’s clothes, the braids popping out of her hat, and the large artist bag draped over her shoulder filled with journals, paints, brushes, and even an artist’s stool. Aminah’s self-portrait (below) brilliantly portrays her walking through the Old City markets with all her supplies. Aminah’s painted fabric piece on the right shows the two of us stopping to rest after carrying our grocery bags for a mile in 110-degree weather. We were headed back to our apartment in Herzliya with another half mile to go.

One Spring day in 2004, I walked into Aminah’s house on Sunbury Road just as she was hanging up the phone. The MacArthur Foundation let her know she was awarded a “Genius Grant” for her extraordinary talent, dedication, and originality in art. She would soon be receiving half a million dollars - no strings attached. Like schoolgirls, we screamed, jumped up and down, hugged, and danced around the kitchen for who knows how long. I asked how she felt about them calling her a folk artist, a  term she never used to describe herself. Aminah responded, "For a half a million dollars, they can call me anything they want." Aminah and I worked together for many years, and became so close that we called each other sisters. She was a gifted artist and a born teacher who inspired thousands of children to be creative. Just before Aminah passed away in 2015, we met and reminisced about old times; we laughed, hugged, and said I love you. Aminah made a great impact on my life and career; she taught me how to look at things differently. I’m forever grateful for all the years we spent together.

In another fortuitous encounter at the Museum waiting for a docent lesson to begin, I looked up and saw Dr. Louis Lankford standing there and invited him to sit next to me. Louis was an esteemed art professor in the Graduate School at Ohio State. We often bumped into each other at gallery and museum openings and would talk about the exhibits, the Columbus art scene, or anything related to the arts; however, this day was different. Louis asked if I would consider applying to graduate school. I laughed and responded that I was too old, would never take the GREs, and had no desire to write a thesis. He explained the school was looking for people already experienced working in the art field. Before long, at 45 years old, I was taking the GREs, entering graduate school, and writing papers nonstop.

After twenty-five years, my return to academia was intimidating, especially around twenty-year-olds accustomed to graduate work. At the same time, I loved the challenge and was finally hungry to learn. My professors were phenomenal, and my classes on art philosophy, art criticism, conceptual art, public policy, and cultural diversity in the arts were outstanding. Dr. Lankford agreed to be my thesis advisor and stood by my side for three years.

My second advisor was Dr. Wayne Lawson, arts advocate, OSU professor, and Director of the Ohio Arts Council. Wayne’s public policy and arts administration classes were captivating and the principal reason I became interested in arts advocacy. After graduate school, Wayne invited me to join the Arts Council on exchanges to Prague, Budapest, Israel, India, and Chile. Wayne has supported, encouraged, mentored, and believed in me from the day I walked into his classroom. His stories about our experiences together are hilarious, and to this day, we remain close friends.

I presented my master’s thesis to Dr. Lankford and Dr. Lawson in 1998, a most unforgettable experience. Dr. Lawson and I liked playing practical jokes on each other, so a week before my orals, I mailed him a newspaper story about a college student who attacked her Ph.D. professor for not accepting her dissertation; this would land me in jail today. When I arrived at Hopkins Hall a week later to present my orals, the door to the meeting room was locked, and plastered from floor to ceiling were copies of the article I sent to Dr. Lawson. I was traumatized! I thought about tearing them down, but when I turned around to make sure no one would see me, there was Dr. Lankford and Dr. Lawson just steps away. Luckily for me, Dr. Lankford had a good sense of humor. I passed the oral exam and got Wayne back many times for his dirty trick.

I was so proud of getting my degree and decided not to skip the graduation ceremony like I did in 1971. Thank you, Dr. Lankford, for walking over to me that day in the museum auditorium and encouraging me to further my education in the arts. It would have never crossed my mind.

After Ted Strickland was elected Governor in 2007, I was appointed the Ohio Arts Council Chair. What a privilege it was working alongside a dedicated board and staff to advance the arts in Ohio. Mayor Michael Coleman appointed me to Columbus’s first Public Arts Commission. I learned firsthand, working with a committee, the challenges of choosing and placing public art - the subject of my master’s thesis. I’m incredibly thankful to Governor Strickland and Mayor Coleman for the opportunity to be part of two significant public organizations that furthered my appreciation of public policy, the importance of art education, and the significant role the arts play in serving our communities.

My youngest mentor is my brother Bobby. At least once a week, we’re together collaborating on art projects, rearranging artwork, or making a mess in our art studios. He’s taught me everything from using a glue gun to photo editing. He's the master of creating logos. Bobby’s creative eye and graphic design techniques have helped me tremendously over the years, especially with my website and memoir.

And lastly, my greatest mentor by far is Rocky. During graduate school, our discussions and debates on conceptual art, politics in art, and issues related to public art were ongoing. He critiqued my papers and taught me to be a better writer. Once, he read one of my drafts, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room, declaring it was awful. I rewrote the paper and got an A, but never forgave him for the road rage.

My journey in the arts continues to evolve and surprise me. I began taking art lessons last year, and my studio space keeps growing. I remain grateful to the mentors who believed in me and for the lessons learned along the way. I'm committed to encouraging others to be creative, whether it’s an artist looking for advice, an arts organization, my grandkids, or a friend with a creative streak.

When my grandsons make something special, it gets framed. Like Eric Barth’s landscape above the mantle in our dining room, I’m moved by, and lose myself in, whatever it is the boys make.

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Thank you, Bennett, for this beautiful painting you gave me when you were only ten years old. I’ve always loved the title, Art Lessons. Not only did I use your title for this story, it inspired me to write about the art mentors in my life.