SARAH CLYMER 

When I was nine years old, perhaps, I visited Colonial Williamsburg and, as visitors there tend to do, proceeded to tour a great many of its buildings. I believe my parents and I were in the courthouse when a prominently-placed portrait caught my eye. Something about it was familiar. I whispered to my parents, "that's Queen Anne". When our guide confirmed that the portrait was, indeed, of the monarch I had suspected, I felt a rush of excitement.
 

Recalling the incident years later, it occurred to me that my recognition of the portrait was quite unusual. At the time, I was only beginning to foster a fascination with history, encouraged by a wonderful homeschool curriculum my mother had selected. Books were my prized and treasured companions, and history books were particularly enthralling. I imagine I was perusing one of these when the same portrait of Queen Anne I had recognized first caught my eye. I suppose this was an early indication of what has since become a fascination with monarchical personages and histories. 
 

My family eventually became involved in 18th Century living history as reenactors, which fostered a particular love of the era and its material culture. Years elapsed, and following some personal setbacks and a great deal of dithering and uncertainty as to what subject I might pursue as an undergraduate, I discovered a new passion. A chance placement in an upper-level art history class when I was a freshman proved life-changing. I listened to my professor’s lectures in utter enthrallment, and so intense was my fascination with the subject matter that I hardly had to consult my notes in order to ace the exams. I took to independent research and vehemently “curating” my own art collection of sorts via the web, as my rural hometown had a dearth of culture and opportunities to visit areas where it abounded were few. I compensated for this by amassing a personal library of lavish art- and history-centric coffee table books to sate my appetite, and reading as much as I could on the subjects. When I did have the rare opportunity to visit a major museum, I got lost in the galleries as the thrilling recognition of one painting or object after another left me exhilarated and overjoyed. There was a happiness and a sense of belonging the likes of which I had never known. 
 

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