As a culminating project for our art history class we were asked to analyze the imaginary personal art collection that we have been building during our time travelling.

 Personal Collection: Window to the Soul

• Giulio Romano, Diana and the Dead Orion, Renaissance, Italy, circa 1500
• Anthony van Dyck, Nicholas Lanier, Renaissance, England, 1632
• Tintoretto, The Temptation of Adam and Eve, High Renaissance, Italy, 1552
• Bernini, Aeneus, Anchises, and Ascanius, Baroque, Italy, 1618
• Vincent van Gogh, Green Corn, Post-Impressionist/Modern, France, 1889
• Philippe von Bree, Workshop of Women Artists, Romantic, Belgium, 1831
• Joseph Rebell, Sea Storm on the Arch of Miseno Miliscola with a view to Nisida, Romantic, Austria, 1819
• Orazio Riminaldi, Love Triumphant, Renaissance, Italy, 1624
• Conaletto, View of the Ducal Palace in Venice, Renaissance, Italy, before 1755

On the banks of Lake Lanier rests a large cedar and stone cabin partially concealed by yellow-leaved maple trees and mounds of golden chrysanthemums. Just outside the house a neat carpet of emerald green grass reaches towards the rugged Georgia forest stretching for acres in each direction. The crunch of feet against the pebble driveway, the tranquil chirping of birds, and friendly conversation is all that can be heard in the crisp morning air. I look over my shoulder at the small cluster of eight visitors as I clasp the door handle, pushing the oversized door inward to reveal my open living room decorated with cushy brown leather sofas, hardwood floors, and a intricately woven Turkish tapestry. In this quiet, plainly decorated room of my house I have placed the works of my personal art collection, Window to the Soul.

To me, the most important quality of a work of art is its ability to be interpreted differently by many individuals. I am fascinated by how one person may strongly react to a piece of art that millions of others allow only a cursory glance. I chose each piece of artwork in my collection as a physical representation of a personal life event. Each memory holds substantial meaning and evokes poignant, emotional recollections. I feel that my personal collection should initially be presented from my perspective – through MY eyes. The goal of my collection however, is not only to give others insight into my life and my past, but to also stimulate their thoughts and emotions about the pieces in the collection.

The pieces in my gallery are placed around the outskirts of the spacious square room from left to right chronologically according to the memories they represent. No structured tours are given, although questions are always welcome. Instead I have written a short narrative that is engraved on copper plaques next to each of the nine works describing a story from my life.

First, visitors will observe Giulio Romano’s Diana and the Dead Orion, which depicts Orion hopelessly slipping away from the sorrowful Diana into a sky of darkness and wispy clouds. Every time I see this work it reminds me of the death of my Grandpa Leroy who passed away when I was only two and a half years old.  I wish I could climb back into my Grandpa’s broad lap and munch on the Tootsie Rolls he would secretly slip to me, but I know that my sparse memories of him are all that remain.

As viewers continue around the gallery, they will see paintings that represent events that occurred later in my life. A portrait of my great grandfather that was discovered in the Kunsthistorisch by my Aunt Amber hangs upon my wall, summoning memorable evenings at her house during my youth. Her creativity and love of writing have influenced me more than I ever thought possible. Following that, The Temptation of Adam and Eve captures an uncomfortable memory from my middle school days when my peers insisted I join with them to exile another girl from our friend group.  The importance and strength of family in my life floods from Bernini’s sturdy marble statue of Aeneus, and I recall events depicting how my role within the family has changed greatly over the last few years. Further down the wall a story recounts the serenity of my trip to Glacier National Park at the beginning of high school and similar tranquility that Monet’s painting evokes.

Philippe von Bree’s Workshop of Women Artists portrays a pale, delicate woman clad in sheer organza pants and exotic gold arm bands. Atop her head rests an entire bear skin and over her left shoulder she softly rests a massive wooden club. This paradoxical juxtaposition of a powerful, yet delicate female reminds me of my mother. I feel like she must have struggled for the past eighteen years with raising my brother and me in an effective, structured manner while still preserving her soft and loving demeanor.

Rebell’s work of a storm battered sailor who cannot see the salvation that lies ahead of him represents my strengthened faith in God and how although I was wary to trust in him when choosing a college, he later showed me his way was the right way, and provided ten-fold what I had hoped for. A contemplative Cupid in Riminaldi’s, Love Triumphant ushers in the nostalgia of a wonderful relationship battered by the war of distance. Lastly, I chose the view of the Venetian Ducal to remind me of the Oxford Program trip. I want to forever preserve the memories, education, and friends I have gained here.

Everyone has their own experiences… these are just a few of mine. By sharing in the experience of art we can exhibit individuality and humanity’s common nature simultaneously. The beauty of this gallery cannot be found in the gilt Corinthian columns or porphyry mosaic floors of an elaborate museum. Instead, the beauty of this gallery is literally in the eye of the beholder; it is in the way each person reacts to a work as a result of their personal experiences. The eyes are said to be the window to the soul, so by learning to see art from another’s eyes, we can come to see the uniqueness and beauty in every soul.