At one of those academically distinguished art history seminars, my teacher, advisor, mentor, and in time, revered friend, Catherine Asher, is seated across from me. The speaker is trying to make an insightful expedition into the critical, composite visual relationships of an object or a monument, when during a moment laden with gravitas, Cathy meets my eye and winks at me. The wink is almost imperceptible but profoundly impish, and I have to summon all my restraint from cracking up into a guffaw.
On another occasion, I am seated next to her, when she slips me a hastily scribbled note at the peak of the speaker’s scholarly exposition: “This guy is boring the life out of me!”

