There is, supposedly, a right way to become an art collector. You learn the names, visit the galleries, go to the fairs, figure out what you’re supposed to like, and spend or donate enough to be taken seriously. Eventually, perhaps, you buy something. Then, once you’ve been featured in a magazine or two, you can finally call yourself a collector.

The longer I spend around art, the less I believe in any of that.

There is no right way to become a collector. No right way to experience a museum. No prerequisite number of art-history classes before you’re allowed to have an opinion. Some people grow up surrounded by art. Others stumble into it later. Some start with a museum, some with an artist, some with a friend.

Jeff Magid found his way to collecting through an artist’s studio and a poker game. Tony Ortega has spent more than four decades developing his practice, while his wife, Sylvia Montero, arrived at visual art after a career as a modern dancer. Sibilla Maiarella and Sam Wilson have carved their own paths through an art world shaped by curiosity and relationships, and now help others find their way in. Dr. Lynn Boland and Amelia Anderson reminded me that sometimes the most important way into art is simply having a museum nearby that is willing to open its doors to anyone.

Each of these people is part of the larger, wonderfully varied network of people and places that make up the art world. More importantly, each has been willing to prop the door open so someone else can come in and explore, even if they aren’t sure they belong there yet.

That, ultimately, is what connects the conversations in this volume: people finding their way into art, and people willing to help them navigate a world that can often feel opaque from the outside.

We don’t all discover art in the same place, and we certainly don’t all end up with the same things on our walls. One person might study an artist for years. Another might see something once and never stop thinking about it. Someone might buy their first work on impulse. Someone else might spend years visiting museums before ever owning anything.

I believe all of those experiences count. That is the heart of Art Rookie.

I want art enthusiasts, curious newcomers, and people living in the margins of the art world to feel welcome and empowered to step into collecting. I think the best way in is curiosity. Not expertise. Not status. Not knowing what you’re supposed to say.

There is no right way to find art. There is only your way.

And every person interviewed in this volume has reminded me that the windows I was looking through into the art world were actually doors. They could be opened. I could step through them.

My hope is that, somewhere in these interviews, you find a door of your own.

— Elizabeth Royal