It’s all about conversation-between artists and writers, between readers and books, between one floor of a building and another, between galleries and libraries.

We know objectively that this is how knowledge accumulates, a method applicable to both monks illuminating manuscripts and to students bent over books in a college library.

Hinrichs has been in conversation with other artists for many years now she aims to record her responses to their work-and in that work, she finds responses to others’ work. “Imagine,” she enthused, “one film all semester, frame by frame, image by image! What do you think you’d talk about? Where do you think the conversation would go?” “I think they’d kill me,” I told her, but Hinrichs couldn’t stop smiling. “You should do that with your students,” Hinrichs said. Then, the conversation turned to a name I didn’t recognize-Theresa Hak Kyung Cha-a Korean American artist and writer who was deeply influenced by a particular method of film analysis: she would watch one frame at a time. As a way of introducing me to her dilemma, she said to me, “I was amazed to find there weren’t any books on Agnes Martin!” I felt myself relax a bit. Hinrichs’ Second Shelf Project aims to bring books by and about queer artists, artists of color, nonbinary and women artists, and other underrepresented voices into college and university libraries-an effort that began with her home institution in Brussels. As it turns out, she is concerned with learning, too, but the fear she describes around that learning has less to do with her own ignorance and more to do with how knowledge is disseminated, how it’s made available, and to whom. The night before the meeting, I frantically Googled Hinrichs, hoping that by looking at her work I might have something halfway intelligent to say to her. Sure, I took a bunch of art history classes as an undergraduate, and I consider myself a serious fan of visual art works, but there’s a lot I don’t know, and that leaves me, at times, in a paralyzing state of intellectual FOMO. Teaching at an art and design school, as I do, is great in theory, but it means exposing my ignorance on a semi-regular basis.

Recently, I was invited to coffee with Jo-ey Tang, the Columbus College of Art and Design’s Director of Exhibitions, and visiting German artist Heide Hinrichs-because, Tang said, “I think you two should meet.” I was flattered, but also a little terrified.

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