When scientists brought a row of green boxes, with one blue box, to a rural tribe whose language had no word for the color blue, they found that many people legitimately couldn’t tell which box was different. This is because there is a direct correlation between the languages we speak and our understanding of the world around us. I began learning French at a very young age as an accident. My school district decided they needed to start a foreign language immersion program to increase the school’s ratings and reputation, and since Spanish was out of the question, because the competition for Spanish teachers wouldn’t ensure our school the best of the best, French became the next logical choice. That school happened to be closest one to our house, so out of convenience, my parents had me enrolled.
For years, I grew up with the same aloof boredom for what I was learning that every child has; taking for granted the daily lectures on Moliere, Victor Hugo, and Arthur Rimbaud. French was just the language I spoke at school, and I didn’t realize at the time the impact it was having on my passions and interests. It’s no coincidence that for as long as I have been learning French, I have wanted to be an artist.
This revelation came to me during a unit on art history in my high school French class. As we studied the major art movements from Neoclassicism to the Salon des Refusés, I saw for the first time the enormous impact French artists have had on the Western World’s understanding of art. Before Impressionism, a work of art was considered a masterpiece because of its impeccable technique and detail. For years, artists who didn’t meet these criteria, as determined by l’Academie Français, a government organization dedicated to preserving France’s language and culture, were only able to present their work in underground galleries. Nevertheless, a small group of artists including Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Éduard Manet, and Paul Cézanne began meeting at a café and painting together. In 1872, Monet presented one of his first major paintings, Impression, Sunrise. Viewers were confused by the blurry smears of blue, green, and orange that made up the piece. A journalist coined the term “Impressionists” as a way of making fun of the artists behind these paintings, but the name only encouraged them to pursue their passion. Many of these painters are now considered some of the most respected artists in the world. Today, we understand that art is relative; that the way an artist expresses his or her unique point of view is what makes a piece interesting. When the Impressionists began painting with this idea in mind, they were truly revolutionary for their time.
A love of art and self-expression seems to be the foundation of French culture. It can be seen by how Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and so many others flocked to Paris to write in the twenties. It’s proven through the success of the Nouvelle Vague, one of the most influential movements in cinema, which was founded by young filmmakers with no money or experience. And this mindset seems to still exist today.
At an open house for a Paris-based study abroad program, my French professor introduced me to the program’s director. She told the director that I was a Creative Writing major, and I braced myself for the typical, “and what’s your backup plan?” that I had become so accustomed to. Instead, the director seemed impressed. “You know, we have great writers in France, some of the best in the world,” she said, “but we don’t teach writing in school.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because writing is art. It’s a gift. It can’t be taught in a classroom,” she said, with a classic French scoff. “You must come to France, rent a cottage in the country, and just write.”
“That sounds absolutely perfect.” I answered.
***
ELIZABETH GAUGHAN
FRENCH PRESS 