“Chloe Revived by Art’s Kiss”
I was hungry, dreamy from jet lag, and still homesick. The long halls and endless rooms with towering ceilings in the Louvre were overwhelming. Our tour guide showed us to famous sculptures and priceless paintings, all fascinating and equally elegant. Nonetheless, I was drained and being among a sea of tourists didn’t help. It wasn’t until our tour guide rounded a corner and led us into a naturally lit room that I seemed to forget my privileged woes. We were led to a sculpture and I remember feeling a sensation I had never felt before; awe.
Three years ago this fall I studied abroad for two and a half months in London, England. Everyone that heard I was preparing to leave my home country and travel to lands unknown all told me the same thing, “This will change you. You will return a different person.” As dramatic as this sounded to me, these people, strangers and family, were absolutely right. Every experience, conversation, and worry I had during my trip tweaked or rewired a part of me that I would soon discover was the blooming of independence. A line from Azade Seyhan’s article, “Neither Here/Nor There: The Culture of Exile” reminded me of my excitement to be in a different culture, “We participate in human experience through a dialogue sustained by shared tradition.” Before my trip, I had not been a part of a “shared tradition”. I was unaccustomed to all other cultures besides American so Seyhan’s line accurately describes my escapade abroad. I would be able to observe a culture unknown to me while also participating within it. I was ready to depart a land that I knew I blended in with and needed to experience being the foreigner, being thrown into a different culture and learn what it meant to be inclusive.
The first leg of my journey was an eleven hour flight to Paris, France. I don’t think I have ever felt more alone in my life than in those hours. My seat was between two French strangers and the only other fellow student I met was sitting rows and rows behind me, probably experiencing the same pang of homesickness.
After the students and I landed, we were escorted to our hotel rooms, where, I am sure, I promptly cried, cleaned up, and met the group downstairs to see some prominent city landmarks from the River Seine.
Walking the streets of Paris was surreal. I felt lost and adventurous and scared all at once. Not to mention the fact that I felt incredibly out of place. I stood out. My clothes, hair, language, and facial expressions all gave me away. I was clearly a foreigner. Something as simple as buying water from a convenience store was oddly discomforting. I had to pick a water from a variety, make sure I paid the right amount in a currency I was new to, and exchange pleasantries with the cashier in a foreign tongue. I remember how strange it was to reply, “Merci.” and walk out of the store feigning confidence.
A visit to the Louvre was scheduled on the last day of our weekend in Paris. Among the famous and beautiful sites I saw over the weekend, the Louvre was the most daunting. Being someone who doesn’t necessarily categorize themselves as a lover of fine or “high” art, I was enjoying our tour but not hypnotized by the priceless works. That wasn’t until I turned that corner into a room filled with sculptures. Positioned near a tall window, radiating in the sunlight, was the famous 223-year-old Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss.
I had never seen or heard of it before but I knew I was in love. All I saw was a stunning representation of undying and powerful love. Cupid is positioned over Psyche, holding her half-upright as she reaches up towards him, both gazing into each others eyes lovingly. The piece is at once arresting and pure.
Since the moment I had stepped foot into this culture, I had felt lost. I wasn’t sure how to fit in or if I would ever feel self assured during my time in Europe. I was so preoccupied with this worry that I was forgetting to enjoy the messy culture shock and be grateful I even got myself to Europe. I was failing to remember that I was loved back home, I was safe, and that I was surrounded with dozens of other students that were inevitably feeling the same emotions. Seeing Cupid and Psyche reminded me of that. They reminded me of love, of where I was, and of the fact that this was just the beginning of my trip. There was so much more in store for me. In days to follow, every uncomfortable adventure or new experience would sculpt me slowly, soon creating me into a different, more independent, and mindful human being.
I circled around Cupid and Psyche slowly, trying to observe every angle before moving to the next room. My irritability melted away. I was only thinking about the sculpture, not fretting over my fear. I was at peace. With difficulty, I peeled myself away from the sculpture, and left the room with my group. Although, my mind was still gazing at Cupid and Psyche and basking in this new light I found in myself. I felt comforted and rested and vaguely more confident.
The tour ended not long after and my new peace of my mind stayed with me over the course of my trip. I gradually gained confidence and accepted my new foreign characteristic. I no longer felt concerned that I would not fit in but instead, claimed it. I used my foreignness to see and experience things in a new scope. And when I returned, I was different. I had bloomed and it all began in the room at the Louvre standing in front of Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss.
