Stop Looking at The Mona Lisa
A rant on art, people and ice-cream.
“There it is.”
He repeated the same thing every single time we walked in the Gioconda’s room. He stopped for a second and pointed at it, almost waiting for her to recognise him behind the flashing sea of asiameras (asians+cameras).
We walked two or three more dramatic steps. Then, as always, he stopped.
“Come here.”
I must have been six, seven, maybe younger, maybe older.
While obediently walking towards him, I already knew what was going to happen, and felt proud of my diligence.
“Boy, what’s behind us?” he asked with his usual sarcastic, reflexive tone.
“The Marriage of Canaan.”
“Correct. Which is…?”
“The biggest painting in the whole Louvre.”
“Indeed. And what’s before us?”
“ The Mona Lisa.”
“..which is?”
“The proof that people don’t know what they want.”
“Exactly. Let’s go get an ice-cream.”
Now this may look as sheer brainwashing propaganda hitting a little, innocent kid. But I dare you to look closer in the matter of things.
We have a room covered in paintings inside The Museum, not any kind of Brooklyn art fair (which, btw, I adore). On the opposite side to the entrance rests on a wall The Gioconda, The Mona Lisa, a.k.a. The Most Famous Painting in The Whole World.
Now we’ve all heard the legend, we all know about her famous smile, her mysterious gaze. We’ve all read the DaVinci Code or at least seen the movie. We’ve all spent 10+ years seeing everyday, everywhere references to the painting.
Nobody has to tell us that’s the Mona Lisa. We could guess it immediately, even with our eyes closed. And this stands for everyone, art experts and amateurs alike.
Everyone from Australia to France (both ways) knows what we’re talking about.
This means nobody will ever look at any of the other Sons of a Minor Art God. They’re minor acts playing at the same venue of Justin Bieber. Some of them are good, pretty good. But nobody will ever bother to listen. Only some will decide to give them an ear, just to try something different every once in a while.
That’s when I turn, again.
I turn to look at the most magnificent piece of all the Louvre.
The Marriage of Canaan.
Words can’t even start describing this behemoth of paintings. It’s an “as big as an average apartment in New York” (actually,an apartment in Minneapolis) work, portraying the moment every college student giggles about the Bible, a.k.a Jesus turning water into wine, and it took a mere 15 years to complete it.
To top it off the whole table represents the all-star of the powerful of history, with Suleiman the Magnificent, Vittorio Colonna and Mary I of England among the others. Oh, and Jesus.
And nobody even glances at it. When they’re finished with the attention whore with the impaired stare, they simply walk out, pompously ignoring every other piece.
“People don’t know what they want.”
They don’t, they’re just sitting there waiting for some imbecil to come and explain them why the very thing they were craving this whole time IS. And cannot NOT BE.
Because they don’t know why they’re attracted to that insignificant little portrait of a woman.
We’re talking about a place that pieces like Napoleon’s Coronation, the Nike of Samotracia, the Law Code of Hammurabi, the Regent and the Venus of Milo call home.
It can’t be bloody possible that everyone fights to look at this minuscule portrait of a woman. It can’t be.
The amount of detail in “The Marriage of Canaan” is simply unbearable.
THERE’S A DOG COMING OUT OF A BALCONY.
THERE’S 130 PEOPLE IN THIS JOINT. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY.
THERE’S A DUDE WITH A PARROT.
BONUS: PRACTICALLY EVERYONE’S HOLDING A GLASS OF WINE, AND NOBODY LOOKS DRUNK. AWESOME.
Yet, everyone keeps looking at the skank.
Because if you haven’t been to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa, you most certainly have to be an idiot of a very rare breed.
Movie wasn’t that good either.
