In an age where vulgarity parades as wit and mediocrity often claims the loudest voice, it’s no wonder some of us feel out of place—adrift in a world that rewards noise over nuance. But there remains a sanctuary, quiet yet radiant, open to all who seek refuge: culture.
And what better time than summer to walk through its doors? The season itself is a celebration—of light, of life, of the senses. It invites us to wander. Into museums where time stands still. Into libraries where stories whisper across centuries. Into galleries that challenge our gaze. And into the heart of music, where festivals bloom like wildflowers across the land. For those drawn to the syncopated soul of jazz, let this guide be your map:
https://bayoublueradio.org/jazz-festivals-usa-2025-a-nation-swinging-to-its-own-rhythm/
If you’ve never truly ventured into the world of culture, don’t be daunted. Begin simply. Enter a museum—any museum. In every town, there is a door to history, to imagination, to the shared memory of a people. You need no prior knowledge. Only eyes to see, and a spirit open to wonder.
Or let your steps lead you into the wilderness. National parks, too, are archives—of the earth’s memory, of ancestral presence, of the language of birds and trees. Culture is not only found in artifacts or symphonies—it lives in the rhythm of wind through branches, in the curve of a canyon, in the silence between two footsteps on ancient ground.
And if you’re still unsure where to begin, let others guide your curiosity. PBS offers a beautifully curated window into culture in all its forms: https://www.pbs.org/explore/culture/
Or explore the Smithsonian’s boundless resources, a beacon for lifelong learners: https://www.si.edu/
Because culture—no, cultures, plural and pulsing—are as vital to our humanity as breath or bread. They feed something deeper than hunger. Libraries, contrary to the dull stereotype, are alive with possibility. They offer counsel, discovery, escape. And travel—true travel, not packaged tours but the brave act of losing oneself—is perhaps the most vivid form of cultural immersion. Go not where everyone goes. Go where your questions lead you. Let awe be your only compass.
And remember this: culture is not merely something we observe—it is something we create. If you play an instrument, let it sing. If you own a camera, point it toward something unfamiliar. If you have a notebook, a pen, a keyboard—begin. Begin not with the goal of greatness, but with the joy of making. For creation is resistance against apathy, and every personal act of culture is a thread in the vast tapestry of human expression.
This is how we stay alive to the world. This is how we remain free. Because authoritarianism doesn’t start with guns—it starts by silencing books, by mocking thought, by flattening curiosity. Not because knowledge is subversive, but because it disrupts the machinery of obedience.
To understand the world, we must first open ourselves to it. And culture begins, often, with something as simple as stepping outside. The flash of a cardinal’s wings. The flicker of sunlight through oak leaves. The hush of dusk settling over a city. These, too, are entrances to wonder. If they move you, if they stir something unnamed in your chest, then know this: your heart is already reaching for culture.
So follow it. Let it lead you. Let it change you.
Thierry De Clemensat
Member at Jazz Journalists Association
Editor in chief Bayou Blue Radio
USA correspondent – Paris-Move/ABS magazine – All About Jazz