In my experience, when someone asks how an art piece was created, it's relatively easy explaining technical concepts: "oh, they used a mixture of paint thinned with linseed oil to get that varnish-y look" or "think of a lithograph like drawing on an Easter egg...the wax resists color the same way resin-treated stone resists ink." Thanks to Google, Wikipedia and hundreds of reference books 200 feet from our office door, I can talk technique in my sleep.

But some questions take much longer to process, and by process I mean: record in my sketchbook, respond from the gut, internet browse, reconsider original answer, redefine and reflect. I was looking at Interrogation 1 by Leon Golub at the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art when a woman whisper-hissed bitterly to her friend, "Why in the world would anyone want to paint torture and interrogation scenes?" My first reaction was to mumble, "why wouldn't they?" But that's not enough. I rephrased it into what I think she was asking: why does the absense of aesthetic beauty in this painting make me feel such anger and disappointment?

The collecting segment of the Topeka Kansas Archiving Project is behind us and over the next couple weeks I'll be sorting through submissions and making decisions about what to keep and what to release back to the "wild". This will be tough because many participants spent a considerable amount of time drawing and documenting their finds. But when faced with a potential acquisition, a museum must make decisions about what best fits the collection because they simply can't take everything. Why?

(Sample excerpt from my recent to-do list):

"...pull West African artifacts from storage; take to Menninger Room for Dr. Janzen’s African art class / eat pizza / introduce the collection and its provenance / find seating for 28 Washburn students; facilitate discussion; turn over to Janzen’s class; remain as back-up ..."

After being told for years, “you’ll never get a job in the arts so study something more practical,” and then getting a job in the arts—one that’s located in a public library—well, it’s not just any art job. It’s better. I was reminded frequently during a talk last week how unique my workplace really is.