Parker Potter is a former archaeologist and historian, and a retired lawyer. He is currently a semi-professional dogwalker who lives and works in Contoocook

On my daily walk, when I see a soft hazy sun, it always reminds me of an etching by Betty MacDonald called “Withstanding Erosion, II.” A patch of flowers with withered blossoms makes me think of Ann Eldridge’s etching “Hard Frost.” A clear blue sky often reminds me of Bill Mitchell’s silkscreens. Dramatic clouds call to mind Dawn Blanchard’s mezzotints and Willey Fromm’s woodcuts. And spikey leafless winter trees make me think of any number of prints by Catherine Green and Victoria Elbroch.

It is easy for me to connect things I see with works of art because, over the last thirty years, my wife, Nancy Jo, and I have accumulated a rather large collection of New Hampshire art. Apart from raising our daughter, collecting art has been the most rewarding project we have undertaken together. Here’s how it happened.

When I worked for the state of New Hampshire many years ago, someone from the Division of the Arts came to the agency where I worked and presented a slide show of art owned by the state that was available to decorate our office. I was struck by “First Planting,” a silkscreen print by Calvin Libby. My colleagues did not select “First Planting,” but several weeks later I saw that same print, i.e., another impression from the same edition, for sale in a museum shop. I bought it on the spot and thus began my love affair with printmaking.

Shortly thereafter came one of those three-paycheck months that happen twice a year for people who are paid bi-weekly rather than semi-monthly. I usually spent my “extra” paycheck on a certificate of deposit, but after Calvin Libby opened my eyes to printmaking, I took my “extra” paycheck to the League of New Hampshire Craftsmen retail gallery on Main Street in Concord and Nancy Jo and I bought five more prints: two by Christopher Hill Morse, one by Randy Miller, one by Ellen Eppelsheimer, and one by Willey Fromm. An art collection was born.

A few weeks after that, we saw that Christopher Morse was going to be at a small craft fair on the statehouse lawn, so we went. That was the first time that we had ever met an artist, and more than thirty years later, he is still a close friend. We bought another one of his prints, and he showed us a proof of a print he was still working on that he intended to debut at the League’s annual Craftsmen’s Fair. We had never been before, so we marked it on our calendar.

At the fair, we saw Christopher again, bought his newest print, and met five or six other printmakers. We were off to the races. In the thirty years since that fateful summer, our collection has grown to include several hundred pieces, and being a part of the local art community has been a significant part of our lives in New Hampshire.

First, while we may appear to collect art, I often joke that what we really collect is artist friends. Nearly every piece in our collection was purchased directly from the artist who made it, and every time I buy a piece of art, I am reminded of just how good it feels to put money into the very hands that made the amazing thing I am buying.

Then, when we go home and hang a piece of art on the wall, we’re putting up not just a beautiful picture but also the story of how we came to acquire it. And because we personally know virtually every artist whose work is on our walls, being surrounded by their work is like being surrounded by friends. That goes a long way toward making our house a home.

Nancy Jo and I didn’t set out to assemble an art collection; it just happened as we encountered new art and artists. And while our collection is now rather large, we have not bankrupted ourselves buying art. Indeed, we have found original art to be surprisingly affordable. Perhaps that is a function of living in New Hampshire. In our travels, Nancy Jo and I have kept our eyes out for similar art scenes, but we have yet to find a place where good art is as available and artists are as accessible as they are around here.

The only problem with having a large art collection is figuring out what happens to it when we cross the finish line. Our estate-planning attorney has explained that we can’t take it with us, and it is way too much to drop on our daughter. So, we spent a couple of days with her, going through the collection piece by piece and asking her which ones she’d like to have and which ones should be earmarked for institutional donation.

We have pieces on our walls that give us great joy every time we look at them. Seeing our collection through our daughter’s eyes, and learning which pieces she wants to remember us by, was an unexpectedly joyful experience.

]]>