Moaning Lisa
Over the Christmas break conversation turned to the place art has in our culture, and in particular what makes certain pieces of art iconic. I’ve been fortunate over my lifetime to have travelled a lot for work which has given me the opportunity to see many of the great artworks. They hang in galleries as reminders of moments of genius where some artist or other has perfected a technique, or perhaps brought a new perspective or style to the fore. Each one, while having a spark that elevates it above the norm has become frozen in time as a reminder of the era or method that brought about its creation. However, the experience of seeing them can leave us with mixed emotions varying anywhere from wonder to vague disappointment and a feeling of what’s all the fuss about?
Recently, while in Paris we spent a day in the Louvre. The Louvre is the sort of place you can’t ignore, a Paris must see whether or not art is your thing. The sheer size of the buildings and collections is breathtaking. It reflects what we deem valuable as a society, not just in terms of wealth but in culture and history. As we slowly meandered through the various galleries it became obvious that certain objects had greater meaning than others, and that for certain individuals seeing particular works became a goal in itself.
Inevitably we came across the hall holding the Mona Lisa. Lisa is definitely an icon, recognizable by everyone. Having lived with Lisa’s presence my whole life I was curious to meet her face to face and see if she stood up to her reputation in real life. As we entered her chamber it became obvious that she had many more fervent admirers than just me. The crowd surrounding her was overwhelming. All I wanted was a few minutes with her, the chance to see if she could charm me with her smile. What surprised me however was how disinterested everyone seemed in Lisa, in the painting itself. Most were just there to take a photo. Cameras flashed incessantly despite the no flash signs. It was sad really. Here we were standing 20 deep before one of the world’s most celebrated artworks yet no one seemed to look at her except through the screen of cameras and phones.
It struck me as odd that people would travel so far to visit Lisa only to want to view her through a lens. It was almost as if the lens became a safe haven, a way to view her while being kept safe from her emotion. And why take a photo anyway? If all you want is a digital image then download one… it’s more likely to be clearer and better than anything we could take holding our phone above our head as we stand in a slowly moving tide of people.
She does smile that Lisa. Maybe she’s smiling at the silliness of it all. Maybe she’s amused by the thought that so many adore her but so few want to connect? We left her with a touch of sadness having only seen her from a distance, no picture taken to prove we were there. I’m content to have seen her from a distance, after all like most things iconic the image of it is more often better that the reality.
