Written by Alexandra Goodman

I used to find myself relating too heavily to that excerpt from The Bell Jar when Esther looks up at the fig tree and sees all her possible futures and they all shrivel up before she makes a decision. I thought about it endlessly while making my decision about where to go to college and I was terrified of seeing all the right opportunities fall to the ground as rotten fruit if I chose wrong. I thought rationally about what I valued and what kind of life I wanted for myself. I was lucky; the discipline I wanted to go into was never one of those figs. I always knew it was what I was meant to spend my life doing. It was kismet; any time I dabbled in different disciplines or felt unsure of how I wanted the rest of my life to pan out, art history was always faithfully waiting for me to return to it. It made sense—my most precious childhood memories were going to the Met with my class or family friends because my mother hated museums or sitting around the dinner table illuminated by 99 cent Jesus candles during winter blackouts playing a “guess who” game with historical figures or celebrities—I always chose artists starting from the winter when I was eleven.   

So I chose Paris. I chose to uproot everything that was familiar and choose a path a lot of my friends didn’t even realize was available to them. It was the best decision I’ve ever made and it made me realize I chose the right fig. Studying in a city where art and culture is found on every street has done nothing but fuel my curiosity and my endless appetite for learning (I’m a Gemini—what can I say?).

The most influential part of my time in Paris hasn’t been the traditional classroom setting (although it’s been crucial to my critical development as a future art historian) but instead the people and friends I’ve met here. We continue the discussions outside class time and constantly challenge and learn from each other.

Studying at AUP taught me that there is a lot to learn from like-minded students and that learning doesn’t only happen when you’re in class. It happens when your Italian professor tells you to read Peggy Guggenheim’s biography outside of class and you find your new idol. It happens when you’re on the metro listening in on a woman’s phone call as she talks about FIAC. It happens when you walk the streets of Montmartre and laugh at the tourists getting painted by tipsy Sunday painters.  Of course, it also happens in museums visits and gallery hopping. It happens when you go to the Venice Biennale with one of your best friends and try to get in as many pavilions as possible in the remaining hour you have. It happens when you go to museums with your class and laugh nervously when a student accidentally leans on a Yves Klein sculpture and you really learn the value of the rope barriers. These are the instances that shape your experience as a student in the arts in Paris; these are the moments that complete your education. Going and participating in these events and happenings don’t just give you something to post on your instagram feed; they also allow you to participate in history as it is made and make yourself a more well rounded person with a vast array of opinions and pool of knowledge. It’s like going to the beach and not even touching the water—you’re really going to be a student in the arts in Paris and not appreciate all these opportunities? A close friend of mine told me recently that every decision we make is the right one because it leads to where we’re supposed to be. As I near graduation, I know for certain I picked the right fig and its seeds will lead to a whole new fig tree.  

POST-NOTE: Shout out to Sylvia Plath for being the backbone of my teenage depression.