Before this trip, I always thought I hated modern art. I couldn't understand why anyone would enjoy, let alone buy, a piece of canvas with random lines on it, or a sculpture with no structural purpose. Modern art was something I didn't understand, and so I decided it wasn't worth my time. I was wrong.

On one of our first museum days, Kristin and Janet instructed us to walk around the exhibits and take pictures of the ones that stood out to us, or the ones we liked best. To my dismay, it was all modern art. I walked circles around and around trying to find something, anything I liked, but I fell short. When Kristin asked me which ones I liked, I clearly remember stating "I don't really like modern art, but I like the portraits." At this point, she pointed out some features of the art and why the artists made it the way they did, and I began to appreciate the art a little bit more because I finally knew the intent of the artist. 

As the days passed, and we saw more and more art, and I started to pick up on things in modern art that I hadn't realized before. I began to see how the simplicity or complexity of the piece added meaning to the work, how the colors brought out different emotions, and how I spent more time thinking about what the picture expressed rather than showed. Each visit, I was falling slowly in love with modern art, but didn't realize it.

It wasn't until Berlin when our group went to an art exhibit in a bunker, when I finally understand what modern art meant to me. The exhibit contained interactive art, art that pushed the limits, and art that made me feel happy, sad, angry, and worried. I realized that modern art makes me think more than any traditional art could. Modern art not only pushes the boundaries of what is art, but it pushes me to think of what and who I am as a human. 

Germany taught me above anything else my love for modern art. I have pushed myself to experiment in art while at hope and I thank my experience abroad for introducing me to this new passion.