Carte Blanche
A clean slate derived from the French term translated to white card
In the back of my mind I can faintly hear Taylor Swift’s lyrics to “Blank Space” as I write [your name], but really I am just reflecting on this term I have encountered twice in the past week: carte blanche.
In French, the term “carte” can refer to a document like a card, map, or menu. The word “blanche” translates to the color white and can also be associated with pure or blank. Thus, the literal translation of “carte blanche” from French to English is plainly, white card.
However, in English the term “carte blanche” carries slightly less literal meanings. It can refer specifically to a blank check pre-signed by the signatory with permission for the recipient to fill-in an amount later on or, more generally, it means the unlimited discretionary power or authority to act. In other words, carte blanche is the unrestricted freedom to do something, anything, everything, or nothing at all.
Intrinsically (and ironically) the term carte blanche is very carte blanche.
Last year, I began my Substack with a reflection on a snow-covered field being likened to a blank canvas. That post was the fresh start that has laid the groundwork for every post I have done up until this point. If you haven’t read that piece of writing, or if it has been a while, I would encourage you to go back and visit it, or visit it again, and again, and again.
During one of my art classes in high school or college when I felt like I was hitting an artistic slump, I remember this idea my (infinitely creative, but doesn’t always embrace it) brother recommended of having a blank canvas on the wall and every day adding something to it. Maybe the daily additions would add up to a cohesive completed work or maybe it would be a messy compilation of indiscernible doodles. It did not matter. The point was to make art every single day. To fill up space. To leave your mark. To write your name. To embrace the carte blanche-ness of it all.
A year ago, I began bringing some of my old artwork from these high school and college years into my law office in an attempt to both enliven the dull office environment and also empty some of my collection into the hands of trusted co-workers, so that I could make space for the new works I was then beginning to envision. As time would transpire, these objectives were met and shortly thereafter, I left that legal position to embark on a new one elsewhere. Within the first couple weeks of starting the new job, my boss, seemingly out of nowhere, lifted a large blank canvas out from behind his desk and asked if I had any use for it because his hopes of turning it into anything had long expired. I was astounded for many reasons, but the poeticism of this gesture inspired me the most.
My previous job was hard. It was heavy. It weighed me down. Leaving behind some of my artwork was like shedding a layer of my cocoon, scattering pieces of myself to be displayed in rooms I may never walk into again. Choosing to leave that role was a difficult decision, but all I longed for after I left was a fresh start. The new role provided me with that opportunity and this blank canvas my boss handed to me was my clean slate, my carte blanche so-to-speak, where I was free to do with it whatever I wished.
As someone who practices in rules and constraints set by binding laws and precedential principles, the blank canvas, while intimidating, allures me toward freedom through creativity, opportunity, and boundless imagination. I still have this blank canvas, and many others, that are patiently waiting be filled.
When life hands you your own carte blanche, how will you choose to fill it?
-GM
Gina McKlveen is the writer and visionary behind imaginartist. She graduated from Saint Vincent College in 2017 with dual Bachelor of Arts degrees in Studio Art and English with a concentration in Literature and Politics. In 2021, she graduated from The George Washington University Law School where she focused her studies in Intellectual Property Law and did not abandon her love for the arts. Gina currently resides in Pennsylvania where she is both a practicing attorney and artist.