Monthly Archives: December 2010

It was drizzling the day I decided to visit the Ruben Museum. The city was washed out and gray. As I walked down 7th avenue, I noticed that every building looked like the other. They were big, bulky and bland. They were so cold and unwelcoming and I started to feel dejected. As, I rounded the corner of Loehmann’s I was surprised to see the Ruben Museum building. It was nothing like the blocks of cement around it. It was primarily glass and it emitted this soft glow, like it was beckoning you to come in. I won’t lie, I was happy to go in and step out of the dull dampness of the outside.

Sometimes when I go to new places, I tend to feel uncomfortable. New things take me out of my zone of comfort. But thats not what I felt when I entered the museum. The moment I stepped in the thing that hit was the amazing aroma. I turned around to find the source. It was the cafe, and let me tell you, that place smelled wonderful! The aroma was just like something I’d smell if i were at home. I think thats why I felt so comfortable walking into the museum. It felt just like home, and not to mention the first thing your eyes feast on is a beautiful glass spiral staircase. I stood underneath the staircase and looked up at the ceiling. The top was all glass and it looked like a light at the end of a tunnel. As I started ascending the stairs, I couldn’t help but get that feeling that maybe I was on a mini journey of sorts.

On the second floor, there was a screen projecting all the countries whose arts were on display in the museum. I saw India on the list. My mother’s side of the family came from India and my dad’s from Bangladesh, but I must confess I know very little about India or Bangladesh. See, my family is as American as it can get. We speak English at home, eat American food. Forks, spoons and steak are a common sight at our dinner table. The only times I would have curry is when my I would go to restaurants. If someone were to ask me what I was I would reply “American.” Sometimes when my grandmother came over she would bombard me with stories of India and life there. I had no interest in it. I don’t know what it was really. I just didn’t feel a connection to the country. Maybe I was afraid that I wouldn’t fit into American society. As a kid I was the only girl who had color on her skin. I was the only girl girl with jet black hair. And my name sure wasn’t Jane Smith. It was Tasnia Chowdhury, and it was very different. It was around that time that I decided that I would become like my peers. And I had succeeded. I knew nothing about India aside from the fact that Gandhi and Buddha were from there and the movie Slum dog Millionaire was based there. The basic things you learn about in school.Yes, I admit. I was ignorant to my own culture.

As, I walked around the museum, I was in awe. The art was so beautiful. As, I would look at the displays description, I would notice India on most of the descriptions. I stared at a sculpture of the deity Shiva and his wife Parvati. I was hypnotized by the sheer detail on the sculpture and the story behind it. It was truly exquisite. As I walked away from the sculpture, I couldn’t believe I had never heard of Shiva before. In fact I had heard of none of these Indian deities. Not Kali, or Vasuhara. For a second, I stood there disappointed in myself. Here I was 18 years old and I had never heard of the great Shiva! When I went up to the next floor, I saw Atta Kim’s On Air photographs. There was one picture of a distorted reality. I started at it for a long time and it dawned on me. My eyes were just as blurry as the picture in front of me. I had lost touch of who I was. I was trying to run away from reality. For many years I tried to convince myself that I was American. In reality, I was just ashamed of my culture because it was different. As I stood in the museum full of beautiful displays from my culture, I realized that I had refused to acknowledge the beauty. I had never never attempted to make a connection with my culture and that is why I was so detached to it. At that moment, I was so disappointed with myself. I had wasted so many years shunning a part of myself. And so as I stood there in the middle of the museum, I promised myself that I would reach out and discover a part of me. Sure I was American, but I was Indian too. And that part of me should not be hidden inside of me. I should display myself just like statues. Who I am is beautiful and complex and that is something to be proud of.

Before I knew it I had reached the top floor. I had reached the light at the end of the tunnel. I looked down to see how far up I was. I was happy to realize that I wasn’t the same person I was when I was down there. I welcomed this change.

This material is the sole work of Tasnia Chowdhury and no sources were used.

The Rubin Museum of Art Visit

This first semester at Baruch as well as the semesters to follow are all part of the college experience that will shape us to be more knowledgeable and experienced individuals. However, I believe that journey passes by very quickly, and we take little time to reflect on who we were, what we have learned, and who we are becoming. I am thankful the freshman seminar for this year was based around the themes of identity and self discovery as it helped me in the endeavor of learning about myself. The reading, A Bitter Sea by Charles N. Li and the visit to the Rubin Museum of Art only enhanced the curriculum. Experiences like my visit to the Rubin Museum not only provided amazing art and architecture, but also helpful insight on my ancestral traces and educated me on a vast part of the world.

My heritage had always been a struggle to explain, let alone understand. Being Chinese Guyanese and Indian Guyanese was a confusing aspect of my life, especially growing up in Richmond, Virginia where I was the only tan face in a sea of black and white. As a child, I knew no differently, and thought I was the same as everyone else until another student saw the dissimilarity and was quick to point it out. He took apart my last name to his advantage and construed some rather witty jokes. Needless to say, I became excruciatingly aware of my solitude in terms of physical appearance and my strange last name.

Thankfully, my family decided to move to Queens, New York when I was ten years old. It was one of the best things that happened to me. My previous life in Virginia had little diversity and mixture. The Guyanese culture in Queens was so rich and vibrant, not to mention the other cultures that added so many colors and so much life in one place. In just a few years, I learned how to dance to classical Punjabi music, drink a Jamaican ital jockey, and speak a few words of “street” Spanish. Despite the variety of music, foods, and languages in New York, my identity solidified. It is simply human nature to feel belonged and loved, and it was certainly a beautiful feeling to know that I belonged to a group of people. As the years passed by, I slowly became more confident and able to explain that I was Guyanese and what my culture involved. I recognize that one’s surroundings can truly enhance experiences and create an open mind in even a young child.

I am no longer a young child, but my mind still takes in a great deal from its surroundings. One environment that was truly unique and independent in its style was the Rubin Museum. Being aware that I had Chinese and Indian ancestral roots, I was somewhat intrigued by the Himalayan arts. However, I had no knowledge of the Chinese or Indian languages and cultures. Just walking into the museum took some time to truly absorb the ambiance. The fresh, clean look of just the front room was refreshing and looked so rich. Immediately, I could smell some sort of curry wafting in from the café along with a kind of incense. My brain suddenly took me back to my aunt’s jandhis, which are Hindu ceremonies that are done yearly to bless the home and family. The combination of smells of the incense and curries were magically linked to my family’s culture. I instantly felt a warm invitation. As I stepped inside, the rich dark floors led to a spiraling staircase. I did happen to look up at the stunning roof that seemed to open up to heaven itself. It’s beautiful, yet simplistic design resembles something holy and peaceful.

Amongst the many figurines and artworks, one that I clearly remember is a bright orange staircase. I can recollect that the stairs were somehow related to Buddhism, but it certainly reminded me of the religions of the world and how they are all interrelated. Every religion promotes the improvement of one’s self and morals which will ultimately lead to a reward, whether it is heaven or eternal peace. That artistic piece gave me a sense of unity with the world as we should try to achieve some sort of advancement within ourselves. Another work that stands out in my memory is the never-ending pans of rice which were a representation of a Buddhist tradition. Foods for the gods are something seen in several cultures, including Guyanese culture. Although it is not specific to Buddhist nature, Guyanese culture promotes ritually feeding the wandering spirits of deceased family members. These artworks showed some similarities to Guyanese culture and, in turn, provided a sense of belonging. The Guyanese culture is often overlooked as we are from a tiny country with little voice in which we are trying to change. This musem made me feel different. I felt somewhat stronger. Although there were some variations, my own culture was being exhibited in this Rubin Museum. There was light being shone on my ancestors. It felt authentic and concrete.

The Rubin Museum of Art, although concentrated on the Himalayan culture, reflected my ancestral roots as well as the human nature to create a society and its own traditions. The museum proves that we are all different but very much connected to each other in many ways. Fundamentally, we are all humans sharing the same basic needs to feel belonged and exchange thoughts with likeminded people. Growing up, I may have felt out of place and odd. Today, I have learned through experiences like the Rubin Museum that there is place for each of us in this world.

 **This is to state that this contest entry is solely the work of Jessica Chu-A-Kong. No external sources were used.