Dear Mr. Weisman, (Although I must tell you, I think of you as Fred)
Quite simply, I am too old to be writing a letter like this. But since I have never before written one, and since the intensity of my pleasure and gratitude seem to warrant some sort of excess, I hope you will forgive a little gushing.
What I want to do is thank you for my building. The University of Minnesota Art Museum. It is very much my building. And it is one of the most treasured gifts I have ever been given. I take a walk every afternoon, and leave, all year, leaving lectures still only half written, dissertation notes open on my desk, student papers ungraded, the cooking, organizing, trimming, tending, all suspended. I leave, that is, my real world, cross campus, and walk back. and forth across the Washington Avenue bridge several times. My reaction is the same every day. I am each day astounded at the beauty, the humour, the complexity, the sweetness, of the building you have given me. I smile, I laugh, I feel peaceful and refreshed. I frequently have insights about my researcher; if it turns out to be anything other than prosaic, this dissertation I am wrestling with, it will be because your building, my building, shakes me, allows me to let go a little, lets me giggle, helps me understand what is beyond describing.
