Let’s start with a wild opera plot.
In Turandot, a Chinese princess tests her suitors with three riddles. Answer correctly, and you win her hand. Fail, and you’re executed. Many princes die trying—until one day, a Tatar prince named Calaf appears. Against all odds, he answers all three riddles correctly. But plot twist: the princess refuses to marry him.
Calaf, undeterred, gives her a new challenge. If she can discover his name before sunrise, she can still kill him. But if she fails, she must marry him as promised. Long story short: he tells her his name anyway, risking everything. She’s so moved by this act of love that she announces his name as Amore—Italian for “love.” Dramatic enough?
Turandot is one of Puccini’s most famous operas, with musical nods to Chinese culture like the pentatonic scale and the folk song Jasmine Flower. But despite being set in ancient China, the story didn’t actually come from there.
It began in 17th-century France with scholar François Pétis de la Croix, who adapted Persian tales. In the 18th century, Italian playwright Carlo Gozzi reworked one of those stories into a play. Then Puccini turned it into the opera we know today. So this “Chinese” princess has taken quite the journey—from Persia to France to Italy.
Which brings us to the idea of Cultural Appreciation.
At its core, cultural appreciation means drawing inspiration from a culture that isn’t your own—whether it’s the language, music, fashion, or traditions. It’s about learning, admiring, and incorporating those elements into your own work.
And it’s not just a modern phenomenon. In fact, classical music has been doing it for centuries. Mozart’s Turkish March? Cultural appreciation. Asian pop songs with rap verses? Same idea. In Puccini’s case, he borrowed sounds and aesthetics from what he imagined ancient China to be.
Why do artists borrow from other cultures?
In the 18th and 19th centuries, it was often about curiosity. The unfamiliar felt exotic, mysterious, and beautiful—an invitation to imagine and idealize.
And cultural exchange has always been part of history.
Take Turandot—a tale imagined in Europe, inspired by Persia (modern-day Iran, Iraq, Syria). These regions, once seen as rich and magical, are now more often associated with conflict and loss.
Today, however, the conversation has shifted. Cultural appreciation and cultural appropriation aren’t the same—but the line between them isn’t always clear.
Appreciation is when someone respectfully engages with another culture. But even well-meaning appreciation can cross a line, especially when it’s based on stereotypes, power imbalances, or taken out of context.
Take Madama Butterfly as an example. Puccini drew inspiration from Japanese culture and used traditional melodies in his music—clearly a case of cultural appreciation. But the story itself, a tragic romance between a Japanese woman and an American naval officer, has been criticized for reinforcing exoticized and submissive stereotypes of Asian women.
So while the music might be beautiful, the narrative feels problematic through today’s lens.
So in the end, cultural exchange isn’t inherently bad—but context matters. Stories like Turandot and Madama Butterflyremind us how art travels, transforms, and sometimes distorts along the way. And as we enjoy these works today, it’s worth asking not just where they come from—but how they speak to the world now.
