My Chautauqua Essay -- Personal Narrative essay about myself

My Chautauqua   I have a t land upency to forget to breathe when Im sitting in my art history class. A double slide projector set-up shoots its characteristic gun - bright colors, intense shapes, inscriptions in languages that are at times meditate merely as symbols by my untrained mind, archaic figures with bodies contorted the like elementary school students on the recess monkey bars. I contend Diego Riveras The Liberation of the Peon, Frida Kahlos Self-Portrait, and Anselm Kiefers To the Unknown Painter with my classmates. The room is never silent as we marvel at these images. When the slide projectors give off that first gleaming of light, their Gatsby spot of a blurry green hope at the end of the dock, we depart on our collective imaginary field trips. The teacher doesnt consider to coax, to pry, to pose multiple-choice questions. We are already on our way.   I go down the Hall of Mirrors in the French Palace of Versailles. Soon after(prenominal) I am thinking of the converse style, and recall that German fashion designer Mies van der Rohe has created the most simplistic a...