I was an art history major for most of my undergraduate education. There were pieces that grabbed me immediately, where I only needed a glance to ensure that it become a favorite. Then there were the pieces that when I looked at them I'd think, "I don't get it."

At first these pieces annoyed me. How can this be art? It's a blank canvas with a line down the middle, I could've painted that. Then I would read the explanation of it and look at it again. Suddenly it made sense. Understanding that art is created not always for aesthetic and visual effect, but for the process or theory was an important lesson I received. Realizing that art took much more than just looking at it to understand it and even more to appreciate it.

This is exactly how I approached Patti Smith. She was one of those artists that I dismissed at first listen as an, "I don't get it." As I took my headphones off at the end of Horses, I wondered what all the fuss was about. But then I listened again, this time with more curiosity. It began to grow on me. I picked up a copy of Just Kids and listened to a couple of interviews where she talked about her process. My god, Patti Smith is art!

In her book Just Kids, Smith explains "the gratitude I had for rock and roll as it pulled me through a difficult adolescence. The joy I experienced when I danced. The moral power I gleaned in taking responsibility for one's actions. These things were encoded in Horses as well as a salute to those who paved the way before us."

I listened to Horses over and over. It moved me — the words, the variable tempos, the switches between speaking and singing, and the descriptive poetic images. What made everything richer was learning about the experiences and relationships behind the music — not in a Behind the Music tortured-artist sense, but in a way that clarified the life-to-art relationship.

An example of this is the cover of Horses. At first glance it's a simple black-and-white classically composed shot of a young Patti Smith. After reading Smith's account of when Robert Mapplethorpe took the image, the photograph becomes alive. It's given context and meaning, especially knowing what it means to Smith: "When I look at it now, I never see me, I see us."

Sometimes there isn't an explanation to the how, why and what of a piece. Experiencing a work of art — whether it's a painting, sculpture, poem, or song — is individual for everyone who encounters it. My encounter with Patti Smith has been an evolving journey.

When I heard that she was coming to town to play the entirety of Horses, I just about lost it. The opportunity to hear this performed live 42 years after its release — what a rarity! Who could pass that up?

For me, Patti Smith represents the scope of music that has entered my life. Sometimes it takes a little elbow grease to appreciate someone's art, but it is definitely worth the effort.

Sarah Eldred works in the development department at MPR and shares an equal passion for music, dogs, and running.