On the walls of our family home – between the TV and the fireplace and over the dining room table - hung original works of art. They were mostly paintings from my father, the art professor, but also from his friends, colleagues and mentors. They brought an exciting world of abstract color and form into our small home for our eyes to feast on during the long, dreary Minnesota winters. And they referenced ideas, impressions, experiences and histories, that expanded our everyday life.

Through these artworks we became aware of tantalizing worlds outside of our experience that awaited us. Leaving home, I took my love for art with me. In my college dorm room I hung up posters of paintings from the new artists I was discovering. Later I, too, turned my first home into an art gallery - with artwork I loved from friends, art heroes and from my own easel. Live without art? Why would one want to do that?