Last weekend was the 50th anniversary of the founding of the Williams College graduate program in art history, with a reunion of all alumni in Williamstown in bucolic northwestern Massachusetts. I owe my career and the trajectory of my life after, say, 1990 to Williams, which runs the program in conjunction with the Clark Art Institute.
I never took an art-history course at Wesleyan, where I went to college. I’d always been a museumgoer and loved travel, but the art-history majors frightened me, country soul as I was, since they wore black and smoked and were mostly from New York and L.A. Pallid, undernourished, jargon-rich, and la-di-da, they enchanted not, and neither did the subject. I was bound for law school and politics. Serious and no-nonsense.






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