You can live richly,
and money has nothing
to do
with it.
Written by Rachel Marusak,
AUCP Fall 2002 student,
published in 50
Truths Worth Knowing,
Rodal Books.
Forty sketches were due at the end of the week. As I put my things
together, I lingered over my sketchbook.
The cover was bright blue and
spiral-bound;
the pages were thick, blank, and full of possibility.
It was midterms at the American University
Center of Provence, where I was studying abroad for my junior year in
college. In lieu of
classes, we had a day to study. Outside
my host family’s home, I pulled the gate closed and felt
especially relaxed as I set out on my usual route to school. Every day, I passed the
same fruit and vegetable vendor, where I would sometimes stop in for a
tomato or an apple and practice my grocery vocabulary.
I passed the same
café with the
floor-to-ceiling windows where I would see the same old men sidled up
to the bar with their little espressos and morning cigarettes.
With the 40 sketches in the back of my mind,
I noticed a wrought-iron gate that gave entrance through a cement wall I had always taken for
granted on the other side of the street.
Feeling like I had some stolen
time, I
wandered across the street. The
gate was unlocked and led to stairs that immediately descended into an
artfully designed courtyard. Sidewalks
divided the park into equal parts and joined to form a circle around
the fountain in the center. The
park was part of an art museum, which looked like it was just closing
for the lunch hour. I
set up shop on a bench facing the fountain.
As the sun warmed my face, I
took off my
jacket and remembered reading in a travel book that you should always
dress in layers during the fall in the south of France.
I took my sketchbook out of my
bag and
assessed potential subjects. One
child raced giddily around the fountain, another dangled her hand to
test the water, and a couple was picnicking in a sunny corner.
Opening my book to a fresh page, I faced the
fountain and started to outline the curves of the structure. I heard my painting
teacher’s reminder in my head, “Forget the
intellect.” She
repeated the phrase so often it was more of a mantra.
They were Cezanne’s
words, meaning
: don’t think about drawing something.
Be open to your impression of
the
moment.
Birds brought movement to my page. I made lines until they
took form, would flip without resignation to a new start, and shift
position to a new composition. Deep
lines. Splashing
water. Fountains. Children.
Birds.
I remember looking up and
feeling my good
fortune and taking note. I wasn’t in it for the grads. I didn’t need to
be anywhere. I
didn’t want for anything.
I was just living –
calmly,
graciously.
I had wanted so badly to extend my stay in
Aix-en-Provence, but there was no way.
By the last week of the
semester, I was
literally living on soup and bread, and I traveled home without a dime. But I took that day, that
moment in the park, with me. That
moment – of wanting nothing – is my most cherished
possession.