Since I’m the author of a novel — Oil and Marble: A Novel of Leonardo and Michelangelo — that explores Leonardo da Vinci’s creation of Mona Lisa, a fan recently complained about his experience seeing the iconic masterpiece for the first time. “I was expecting to have this quiet, intimate moment with this beautiful painting,” he said. “Instead, it was a madhouse! Why didn’t anyone warn me? And why can’t the museum do something about that?”
Okay, in case you’ve never been warned before, allow me to do so now:
Seeing the Mona Lisa is not a quiet, contemplative experience. It is, indeed, a madhouse.
The painting is located in the Louvre, in a room the size of an amphitheater. It’s always packed with people. The painting is tiny. It hangs on a panel in the center of the room. It’s roped off. You can’t get close to it.
HORDES of people cram into that room to take pictures. Many look only at their camera, phone or iPad screens and never actually look at the painting itself. It is loud, chaotic, and stinks with the sweat of thousands of foreign tourists.
Okay, now that you know what to expect, let’s get to the more interesting question:
“Why can’t the museum do something about that?”
Well, first, let’s suppose they DID do something to change it. What might that look like?
Would we all buy a timed ticket to see her or perhaps stand in a six-hour long line, hoping to get in before the museum closes for the night? How many people should they let in at once? Ten? Twenty? Thirty, even? And how much time would you get to stand in front of her? If there’s a line behind you, I presume you’re on a strict a time limit.
For those of you who have been to visit Leonardo’s Last Supper in Milan, you have a sense of what this scenario might be like. You have to purchase tickets (usually weeks) in advance and enter with a small group through a set of air-locked doors (the fresco is deteriorating; the church must protect it from the elements). Your time is limited. The painting is miraculous – and worth seeing – but the whole experience feels a bit… clinical.
Is that what you want for Lisa?
Would that really give you the intimacy you desire?
Recently, a critic for The New York Times suggested building an entire new WING just for the Mona Lisa, to separate out the crowds of people only there to take a selfie with the Mona Lisa.
But this idea makes me uncomfortable. As it is now, all those hordes of people have to at least walk by that all of that other brilliant art in order to see her, and isn’t that it’s own kind of victory?
Shouldn’t we art lovers WANT huge masses of people to be excited by a piece of art, not ostracized because of it? Even if they don’t really understand or their excitement is “only because it’s famous,” those people are at least TRYING to connect with art and art history... Ideally for me, EVERY piece of art would have that level of buzz around it. I think our world would be a better place if more people could relate to art history.
I understand wanting some quiet or reflection time with her, but you will never hear me arguing — under any circumstances — that people should be less excited about art.
Besides, isn’t part of the fun of visiting her being able to witness this spectacle of humanity? Everyone jostling, desperate for a look or a photograph, all of us hoping to catch her smiling… at us. Isn’t her outrageous fame – the fact that crowds of tourists do indeed flock to see her – a primary reason for our obsession? She’s like a celebrity – divided from us all and only seen over the heads of other people and their cameras…
Would she be as beloved if she weren’t… as beloved?
Personally, I love seeing those masses of people desperate to spend a few moments with Lisa del Giocondo, a mother, a wife, an unknown Florentine.
People often ask me what I think Leonardo da Vinci might say if he could see the spectacle, but I like to imagine what LISA might say… Just imagine what she sees when she looks out – day after day – on those crowds of admirers. Maybe that’s why she’s smiling – maybe this unknown mother from Florence loves all of the attention.
Or MAYBE that almost-smile is her laughing at us – just a little – for our absurdity.
I’m sure the Louvre has the resources to implement some sort of “visiting system” to reduce the crowds or build a whole new pavilion to house her. But do you really want them to?
I know I don’t.
