Growing up, I lived in a house without art: no picture books on the shelves, no visits to museums, no posters on the bedroom wall.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I realize that I live in the same environment that I did when I was a kid, but with less junk and better art.
I grew up in a town where there were no galleries, no museums, no theaters - a very religious, ultraconservative community.
I grew up in a very small, rural country town, and we didn't really have 'the arts.'
I was determined to have a spotless house when I grew up.
My culture-deprived, aspirational mother dragged me once a month from our northern suburb - where the word art never came up - to the Art Institute of Chicago. I hated it.
There was very little art in my childhood. I was raised in South Carolina; I wasn't aware of any art in South Carolina. There was a minor museum in Charleston, which had nothing of interest in it. It showed local artists, paintings of birds.
I had had no art training.
One of the great privileges of my life was growing up in a house without books.
I had no interest in high school besides art.
I go to museums. I buy art, even. You should see my house; we don't have any wall space left.