When Cary Welch was a young man, he spent much time in the Islamic and Asian wings of museums. As he recounted many years later, this was not necessarily because he was more attracted to that type of art, but because fewer people visited those sections, and so he could immerse himself in the beauty of the art, unencumbered by the hordes who hurriedly bustled in and out of the well-trodden sections of the museum. He could sit there at peace, contemplating these masterpieces, sometimes soaking in the intricacies of a minor detail, and at times, pondering the spirit of the composition as a whole.
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