International, Identity

At my studio yesterday three of us had gathered in the hallway to chat about an event we are planning. There wa A., whose showroom is filled with colorful handmade crafts from his native Morocco, and L., a painter who just moved to the Boston area from France, and me, born here but with a lingering longing for other lands. Briefly, but briefly, our conversation veered into French, which I understand to some degree but barely speak. I managed to put together a complete sentence and ask a question, communicating with the others. Speaking a foreign language subtly but suddenly shifts my inner gears. Having access to other languages, but not being completely fluent in them, I can only express myself simply and directly, without resorting to cleverness, elaboration or obfuscation. I can no longer fool myself. When I shift into globetrotting mode, all that matters is that I am a human being, interacting with other human beings, transcending our particular place-based identities. My persona falls away and I become, simply, a person. It is such a blissful relief.