Influential is Instrumental

The moment I saw her name on my schedule my senior year in high school, I knew that my life was going to find inspiration.  It was a class called Masterpieces I.  It was a famous class because by the time you finished out the year with both I and II, you felt you had traversed the world.  

You had been to the Sistine Chapel and looked up at that glorious ceiling.  You had also looked around that beautiful chapel and realized all of the other famous artists who had compensated to the reverent beauty of that place.  You had walked the grounds of the Roman Coliseum; snuck past the guards to dream of walking the grounds of the Parthenon (fun fact: my father was blessed to walk those grounds before it was cordoned off for safety and preservation purposes).  

You had bypassed the lines in the Louvre to gaze in wonder at DaVinci's Mona Lisa of course, but also the Venus de Milo and Winged Victory.  The pietas were beautiful and heartbreaking.  You noticed the architecture of every ancient European and Greek city, noting the intricate doors, buttresses, and the spectacle of stained glass of the Cathedral de Notre-Dame.  

Winged Victory - Photo from the Louvre Site

I can't tell you how many places made the must-see-before-I-die list.  However, besides the art she opened my eyes to, she also touched on the symbolism behind the cathedrals themselves.  We had to design our own cathedral, present a PowerPoint of specific relatively unknown art of the Renaissance Period (I chose the art under the Sistine Ceiling) - and so you know - PowerPoint was new back in that day and I had no clue how to use it before then.

We also read Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.  Russian literature is not to be overlooked.  Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky taught me so much about theme, I'm not sure if I can completely verbalize the degree to which I was haunted and enthralled simultaneously.

The class was designed to introduce one not just to the fine arts in life, but to delve into them, to truly study them and wonder at why we are so entranced by such things.  She taught me how to love how everything in this world intersects.  Today, yesterday, and tomorrow all meet in art, whether it be literature, sculpture, oil on canvas, or frescoes, charcoal drawings, or the architecture of an ancient temple or theater.

Together, they whisper the thought of the time, the impressions and ideals; the sadness or the glory all at once.  

Oh, Dr. Eichhorn, you lifted my soul and filled my heart with fire and wonder.  You made me believe that my words are possible out in the world.  You gave me silent friends with which to converse, who would always understand the need to create.  The why, the purpose.  Merci beaucoup, Madame.  Merci, merci, merci.