In the winter of 1964, a friend and I hitchhiked along the northern coast of Spain with the goal of seeing Altamira cave. We were dropped off and walked about 1/4 mile to the site, only to see sign saying in Spanish, "Closed for the season." After we had lingered there sadly for a few minutes, an old man came out of a nearby dwelling with a big flashlight and said, "I'll show it to you." He unlocked the door and took us in. This was the most sublime experience of art in my life. The drama of the buffalo raging across the ceiling [and perfectly adapted to the bulges of the stone] moved and impressed me. The thrill I felt has scarcely subsided after 50 years.