THE ART ENTHUSIASTS on these pages have discovered a secret: that the greatest satisfaction lies not in how much you can accumulate, but in what you can give away. "Collecting," says Cecil Schneer, retired professor of geology, "can be a self-defeating undertaking. You become interested simply in possession and lose sight of the usefulness of the thing itself." The donors here, whose gifts of art have enriched the UNH Art Gallery, have different backgrounds and tastes, but they share a passion for "the thing itself." They share a commitment to art that is used, art that is seen and appreciated, art whose purpose lives on. "I think you can come out a lot happier if you donate your work of art instead of selling it," says Schneer. Beyond a generosity of spirit, becoming a donor requires a certain inner fortitude, a willingness to say good-bye to treasures that have been lived with and cherished for many years. "Donors must be able to face the fact that they are releasing something of great value to them," says Vicki Wright, director of the gallery. The university's collection has grown through the years thanks to those whose portraits grace these pages, and others like them—lovers of art who have learned to let go, who have discovered the art of giving. (Visit www.unh.edu/art-gallery to learn more about UNH's collection and the donors who have made it possible.)

"Open this book, which is several hundred years old, and you're almost afraid to touch it for fear the ink is still wet," says Cecil Schneer. "The lines are so crisp, it looks like it was made yesterday." A retired professor of geology, Schneer also has a passion for art, which he shared with his late wife, Mary Barsam Schneer '61, a devoted Art Gallery docent. They found this rare bound volume by Giovanni Battista Piranesi, one of the premier printmakers of the 18th century, during one of their sojourns in Europe, and Cecil gave it to UNH in memory of Mary. "We were not collectors," says Schneer. "We just accumulated a few things that had meaning to us."

For nearly four decades, John Hatch encouraged generations of UNH art students to develop their talents. The walls of his home were filled with the works of students, many of whom became artists themselves. After his death, his wife Maryanna (holding "Perch" by Gerald "Jerry" MacMichael '65) took the paintings and prints off the walls and donated many of them to the university, a gesture designed to continue her husband's legacy. Gallery director Vicki Wright regularly brings works of art, including those of Hatch and his students, into classrooms for up-close study and appreciation. "We are a teaching museum," she says. "Art as a tool for learning is a vital part of our mission." John Hatch would be pleased.

Sigmund Abeles was in his New York City apartment on Sept. 11, 2001, when the planes hit the twin towers of the World Trade Center. The chaos that ensued was eerily familiar, reminiscent of a time during the Vietnam War nearly four decades earlier which the artist had depicted in a print. "The atmosphere in that print is very similar to the atmosphere in the city that day," says Abeles, who taught art at UNH for nearly two decades. Created from news photographs, "Gift of America" portrays the delivery of the deadly "gift" of napalm. One of these limited-edition prints resides in the collection of the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York City. Another belongs to the UNH Art Gallery. "The gallery is such a wonderful resource," says Abeles. "It's a place where students can see the texture of the paper, the quality of the mark." And it's a place where they can see how another artist, in another time, used his art to respond, to make a statement about world events.

Artist Beverly Hallam (in black shirt) was on sabbatical in France, living across the valley from Picasso, when she bought one of his famous painted vases. Years later, that same vase found its way into one of Hallam's paintings. Famous in her own right for pioneering the use of acrylic, Hallam's work appears in many private and public collections. When her good friend, Mary-Leigh Smart, former president of the UNH Art Gallery's board of advisors, purchased Hallam's "Poppies in Picasso Vase" for the university, Smart's gift became one of the gallery's best teaching tools: an example of an artist in transition. "Poppies" represents the start of Hallam's shift from monoprinting (the textured background) to air brushing (the vivid foreground). The two smaller sketches on the right, donated by Hallam herself, demonstrate another treatment of the same still life. "That's one of the things I love about Beverly's work," says Smart. "She's always changing and developing."

One of the great photographers of the 20th century, German-born Lotte Jacobi is best known for her portraits of artists and celebrities. She also experimented with photogenics, or "light drawings," produced in a darkroom using a penlight. The image John Bryer '71 bought from Jacobi on one of his visits to her New Hampshire farm is ephemeral and totally abstract. "But it's technically extremely difficult," says Bryer. "The image doesn't exist in a form you can see until you're done. She was a master." For Bryer, who was introduced to Jacobi by former UNH art professor Jim Fasenelli, the one-of-a-kind photogenic came into his life—and then left again—when he donated it to the UNH Art Gallery in 1991. "For some people, collecting is a series of conquests," says Bryer. "For me it's a dynamic process. I learn from what I collect. It teaches me about myself, and then I pass it on to someone else after it's done its work."

Ted Miller understands the power of a good story. For nearly four decades, he taught English at UNH, specializing in 19th-century British literature. His gift to the Art Gallery, a series of eight engravings by William Hogarth called "The Rake's Progress," tells one of the oldest stories known to man-the tale of a life wasted by "riotous living."

"It has a very literary quality," notes Miller, "capturing the wit and satire characteristic of the period." Early in the 18th-century series (top print above), the young man is surrounded by the Martha Stewarts of the day—the dance master, the tailor and others, instructing him in the ways of fashionable society. He lives a privileged life, but alas, his good fortune leads him far astray, until, in the final engraving, he winds up in the midst of hell. (So much for "progress.") Thanks to Miller, future generations of art students, and would-be rakes, can study and learn from Hogarth's graphic tale. The power of a good story continues.