Dear Art,

The other day I was remembering the first time I fully grasped what you are capable of, Art. It was in University, in one of Dr. Embry's lectures. He was a theatrical man, with lots of rolling r’s and flourishes of the hand. Each lecture was a monologue and Dr. Embry performed with eloquence and passion.
This particular class, when he walked into the lecture hall, a graduate student dimmed the lights. Dr. Embry began to speak of the Pre-Raphaelites and their desire to break away from the gloomy works of their day in favour of beauty, truth and light.
He then lowered his head slightly and Rossetti’s sumptuous Venus Venticordia suddenly appeared on a giant overhead screen.
Then Dr. Embry spoke about Rossetti’s relationship with Elizabeth Siddall, the milliner’s assistant who became his muse, and then Beata Beatrix appeared in all its glory.
Dr. Embry paused for a moment, letting the picture speak for itself, then raised his eyes
to the ceiling and recited a bit of Keats:

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

After a dramatic pause, Dr. Embry spoke of Rossetti and Siddall’s love for each other, their passion and jealousy, her death from an overdose of laudanum, his despair.
Then he lowered his head and delivered a one-two punch as Millais’s Ophelia appeared on the screen and the sounds of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde began to float through the room.
There were a few snorts from my classmates. But I was enthralled. This was Art. And I've been under your spell ever since.

Sincerely,
PC