We live in a small village in upstate New York, but we are at the center of a vibrant and diverse world of culture. We are in the center of a ring, all kinds of compelling places almost equidistant from us – Williamstown, Mass., Saratoga Springs, Glens Falls, N.Y., Dorset and Manchester, Vt.

None of them is more than45 minutes away, and almost all are much less. We feel the benefits of a small town – beauty, quiet, community, inexpensive housing – and we have access to all of the good restaurants, theater, cultural resources we might want.

We go to Mass MOCA, the Clark And William College Museums, the Tang at Skidmore, the Hyde in Glens Falls.

It isn’t Manhattan, but it is close enough and much saner. The Williamstown Theater Festival is quite often as good as New York theater, so is the Dorset Playhouse.

We have everything we need around us, we have to get places, but the drive is usually nicer and quicker than many cab or subway treks around New York City.

We also have hills, meadows, and a nice cool water  hole a mile from our farm. Not to mention two donkeys out back.

Today, on impulse, we decided to head to the Clark in Williamstown, they had an exhibit of the artist Helen Frankenthaler’s wood print painting and her striking abstract impressionist works.

I didn’t go to museums much before I met Maria, she has opened up this world to me, and as it happens, Frankenthaler was one of the few artists I have loved and followed for a while.

I love the way Maria and I do museums. There is nothing intense of pretentious about it, we zip from gallery to gallery, stopping to look at something we like, taking a photo or two. We are rarely in a museum for more than an hour.

It was a pleasure to see Helen Frankenthaler’s work in such a lovely setting. Apart from the obvious, I loved her embrace of rule-breaking and experimentation. She loved to do the things you are never supposed to do and supposedly couldn’t do. I can’t remember much about artists or flowers but Frankenthaler always stuck in my mind.

She broke rules and experimented all the time. To me, her work is warm, rich and powerful. The Clark, recently renovated to look like the corporate headquarters of a major oil company, had her work in two places.  Despite the soulness new campus, their galleries are bright, open and beautiful. And they have great stuff to show.

One of the Frankenthaler exhibits up on a hill, a half-mile from the main museum, a beautiful walk on a marked trail. You could take a shuttle, but I am way too prideful for that.  On the way back, we got soaked by a sudden thunderstorm. We were back home by 3 p.m., just in time to greet a pleasant and welcome cold front.

I love watching Maria watch art. It is so different from the way most people look at art.  Artists look at art differently, they see things I don’t see and ask questions I would never have thought to ask. They are businesslike and professional, they move briskly through big and boring galleries, I appreciate that. They cut to the chase.

I think the thing about it is that Maria and I are simply in sync. And I know what it is like to be out of sync with people in my life.

We just see the world in the same way, and there are not many people who see the world in the same way either of us see it. The creative life is intense and challenging, and quite often difficult. But there are things we can learn from one another, and art is one of the things she has taught me much about.

I never feel self-conscious around her, even though I usually don’t think of myself as an artist and have little understanding of most art. She has the gift of teaching me without making me feel small or stupid.

Creativity is my life, and Maria’s life. I can’t speak for her, but I feel I am open, open, open and finally open to the mystery of my self, whether it be Buddha consciousness or the Christ. I think this is what artists and writers do.

The world is perfect. It’s a mess. It has always been a mess. My job is to straighten out my own life, not to tell others how to straighten out theirs.