I sincerely apologize for the long break since my last post just a tad over a week ago. I will be taking yet another break this week as I am going to Florida on a much-desired five-day vacation.
However, I would like to take this opportunity to sum up several parts of my summer-- a thought that was inspired by several quotes from Marcel Proust (more specifically, from my "bible," Alain de Botton's
How Proust Can Change Your Life).
Sometimes in the afternoon sky, a white moon would creep up like a little cloud, furtive, without display, suggesting an actress who does not have to "come on" for a while, and so goes "in front" in her ordinary clothes to watch the rest of the company for a moment, but keeps in the background, not wishing to attract attention to herself.
Writing has been such an important part of my summer. I would like to think that I have done a decent job in presenting topics--books, films, music, architecture, and art-- that have stimulated and encouraged any amount of interest or thought.
Blogging has been such a wonderful outlet to express myself and share my passions with my few, but dedicated readers, and has provided several wonderful experiences, such as: two little notes from Alain de Botton, an opportunity to write for www.ThirdYearAbroad.com, and, more simply, supportive and positive feedback from friends and family who have taken the time to read a post or two.
In four short weeks, I will be leaving for Paris--
enfin! It is hard to believe that it is almost here. I plan to take advantage of this blog to record my experiences both in Paris and in my travels around Europe. I hope you all will continue to stop by
La Richesse du Monde from time to time to live vicariously through me during my year-long adventure.
Alain de Botton and Proust have so greatly influenced not only the way I read and appreciate writing but also, I believe, the way I myself write. As I have often mentioned, Alain de Botton writes with a clarity and accessibility that few modern-day writers possess. I have thoroughly enjoyed the experience of reading each and every one of his books, and hope that I have absorbed some of the lucidity and charm that he so generously offers his readers. Though I could certainly never craft a breath-taking description of the discreet rising of the moon like
Monsieur Proust (above), I aim to achieve a writing style that captures but a fraction of the beauty evoked by his.
Our vanity, our passions, our spirit of imitation, our abstract intelligence, our habits have long been at work, and it is the task of art to undo this work of theirs, making us travel back in the direction from which we have come to the depths where what has really existed lies unknown within us.
A few posts ago, I discussed my summer internship at a Spanish art museum in Dallas. Being surrounded by art for eight weeks has indeed changed me. I can now better appreciate the details of a painting rather than the general work-- the gentle foldings of the Virgin's cloak in paintings of
La Inmaculada Concepción, the careful attention to the effects of painted lighting, and the seemingly impossible ability to give the illusion that a painting is a photograph.
Religious artwork can be a bit off-putting, especially to those of a different religion than that depicted in the piece. Spanish art consists of heavily religious themes-- plenty of paintings, sculptures, and etchings of Christ, the Virgin, and saints. I can certainly say that I have learned a great deal about religious symbolism, and there is a sense of envy that I feel for the passion of
profondeur that is felt for Christianity and its role in Spanish culture. As a student who has always found more comfort in landscapes and cityscapes in artwork, religious imagery took some getting used to; yet it was not long before I found it difficult to resist the power of the artwork that displayed such dedication and devotion to a faith.
Friday was my "technically official" last day of my internship, though I will be returning for a few days at some point in these next several weeks before I leave. I toured some family and friends twice in the past three weeks, and it was exciting to see how much I learned and was able to share. Of course, the art speaks for itself, but it is always nice to speak on its behalf. Unfortunately, I will not be around to view the museum's upcoming acquisition, which are unbelievable to say the least, but the museums that I will visit in Europe will no doubt suffice.
In reading, friendship is suddenly brought back to its original purity. There is no false amiability with books. If we spend the evening with these friends, it is because we genuinely want to.
Clearly, reading has been a tremendous component of my summer as well. Proust describes one's relationship with reading so perfectly--
the original purity of friendship. For the first summer in years, I have been able to direct my attention towards what I
wanted rather than what I
needed to read. This newfound freedom has allowed me to explore more philosophy, essays, non-fiction writing, and unassigned French literature-- all of which have uniquely contributed to my literary consciousness.
The book I am reading at the time has a special place under my pillow where it keeps me company during my often limited hours of sleep. This intimate
friendship I have developed with these hard- and paper-back treasures has clearly matured. The book will often find itself carefully placed in my purse or snugly hugged by the seat cushions of my Honda Fit as if it is magnetized to my body, urging me to return to the page that my bookmark cautiously guards.
I am currently re-reading Alain de Botton's
The Romantic Movement, and am enjoying it just as much-- if not more-- the second time around. A healthy mix of romance, comedy, and philosophy,
The Romantic Movement embodies, for me, everything I desire in a captivatingly practical romance novel (
practical, in the sense that it is neither "hopeless romantic" literature nor is it far-fetched fiction). De Botton describes a modern romance-- its ups, downs, and in betweens-- and offers helpful advice and analysis of situations, emotions, and experiences common to a relationship.
Am I reading this sheerly because of my adoration of de Botton's works or out of general interest? Honestly, probably a combination of the two. It is a smart, charming, and enjoyable read whether or not one is in search of relationship advice or philosophical aid.
The reason why life may be judged to be trivial although at certain moments it seems to us so beautiful is that we form our judgment, ordinarily, not on the evidence of life itself but of those quite different images which preserve nothing of life-- and therefore we judge it disparagingly.
As a final reflection in response to Proust's wise words, let us be open to life-- both its high and low points-- and face each new day and experience perhaps not excitement, but with acceptance, impartiality, and honesty. Life cannot be judged as unjust and cruel; life is natural. I have experienced events that called for joy as well as others that warranted tears, but in anticipation for my year in France that is soon to begin, I plan to approach life differently as a result from the emotional and mental journey I have traveled this summer. My writing, museum internship, and reading (among other things) have changed my outlook on life and how I plan to pursue my future endeavors-- academically, professionally, and, above all, personally.
