T-minus 13 days.
13 days until I began what I am certain will be the best semester of my life. I will be going about my day, then all the sudden in the bathroom or while I’m walking my dog, an overwhelming feel, a premonition of sorts for what is about to happen completely overwhelms me. This feeling cannot be described with real words. My heart will beat fast, my eyes usually tear a little, and I can’t make a sound. I am going to live in France. Woah.
I have been waiting for this experience since I last went to France in the 12th grade. As part of a high school exchange, I stayed with a family in Pertuis, a small village next to Aix, for a week. During that time I feel completely and utterly in love with the region. The colors were brighter, the air was clearer; I was in the most beautiful place in the world.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little scared or nervous, but any nervousness I have is far eclipsed with extreme elation about complete immersion in the French culture. My father has often asked if I am worried about feeling isolated. My response has always been no. I may be isolated from my friends, family, and other Americans, but what I will be surrounded with is, in fact much more sublime. I will be surrounded by a landscape and city engrained in a fundamental point in art history. I will be able to completely understand the curves, and shapes of Monte Sainte-Victoire, like Cezanne did before me, just over a hundred years ago.
Imagine: A group of artists, living with families we’ve never met, in a city we’ve most likely never been to, and speaking a language that is not our own. We will learn so much about art, life, France, and ourselves. Our minds will be completely blown many times.
I cannot wait to find out how all this will influence me as a person and as an artist.
13 days until I began what I am certain will be the best semester of my life. I will be going about my day, then all the sudden in the bathroom or while I’m walking my dog, an overwhelming feel, a premonition of sorts for what is about to happen completely overwhelms me. This feeling cannot be described with real words. My heart will beat fast, my eyes usually tear a little, and I can’t make a sound. I am going to live in France. Woah.
I have been waiting for this experience since I last went to France in the 12th grade. As part of a high school exchange, I stayed with a family in Pertuis, a small village next to Aix, for a week. During that time I feel completely and utterly in love with the region. The colors were brighter, the air was clearer; I was in the most beautiful place in the world.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little scared or nervous, but any nervousness I have is far eclipsed with extreme elation about complete immersion in the French culture. My father has often asked if I am worried about feeling isolated. My response has always been no. I may be isolated from my friends, family, and other Americans, but what I will be surrounded with is, in fact much more sublime. I will be surrounded by a landscape and city engrained in a fundamental point in art history. I will be able to completely understand the curves, and shapes of Monte Sainte-Victoire, like Cezanne did before me, just over a hundred years ago.
Imagine: A group of artists, living with families we’ve never met, in a city we’ve most likely never been to, and speaking a language that is not our own. We will learn so much about art, life, France, and ourselves. Our minds will be completely blown many times.
I cannot wait to find out how all this will influence me as a person and as an artist.