Part 2- Background: My Journey to AMSET

Background information is required for this post to make any sort of sense to anyone else. I have left my home of ten years, the grand metroplex encompassing Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas, for the quaint delights of Beaumont. ‘Quaint’-when used here- is meant to imply all of the disdain any person from any reasonably sized city can scrape up for a city of less than 120,000. The suburb in which I lived held three times as many. And I was not restricted to my suburb. I went to school in Fort Worth, I visited museums both there and in Dallas, there were three malls within fifteen minutes. I realize that it was, and is, unneccesary, and more than a little bit ridiculous, but I miss it, all the same. And Beaumont, with its singular one story mall, lack of a Fiesta, and infrequent parks, is just not doing it for me.

Don't get me wrong, it IS a lovely city. The weather is nice, there's a lot of land, and squirrels. There's a highway that turns into a road, and then back into a highway. Unfortunately, since I left my art school in Fort Worth (which doesn't really count as a city up there, but seems like New York from down here), I've missed art. I've missed it in all the usual ways, completely tritely, and in pining for it, I've become one of those female painters from the 60's, talking about forming a commune, and supporting starving artists./ It had gotten to the point where I would have stalked anyone carrying a portfolio. The cliched stereotypical art student, which I had attempted to escape all my life, had caught up with me. (Even in reading this, I feel ridiculous.) Suddenly into the depths of my depression, the service requirement of my school saved me. Swooping down like a dementor, Batman, or perhaps even a roc, I discovered that I could volunteer at the Art Museum of Texas, and that not only could I do that, but it would be downtown, where slightly more people were visible. 

I was overjoyed. I didn't cry tears of joy, but it was a close thing. Really. Truly. The depth of emotion behind my stolid exterior could have drowned a lesser man. But not I. I forged ahead, using the waves of my passion as a motivating force, urging me forward to the welcoming shores of AMSET, the Art Museum of Southeast Texas. And welcoming they were. In my experience, every nonprofit organization is welcoming, simply because they need all the help they can get. And it is a nice museum, with a lovely staff.