When I saw some of the great artworks in the Louvre, for the first time, it stripped away my notions of what art is.
It laid new ground and reworked my previous (theoretical) foundations into something better.
Walking up to an artwork I studied, knowing what it was, felt like I was meeting an old friend after years of not seeing one another.
I became so familiar with these artworks neatly illustrated in art books. When I finally came face-to-face with one of them; I met my ‘old friends’ with tears and smiles.
There’s a special kind of mystery in this seemingly ordained meeting. It announces its presence quietly without asking or demanding anything; inadvertently it conjures a million questions.
It drew me in and swirled me around in all its colours and forms. I was reluctant to go. I had to move on…thirsting for the next.
An art gallery is almost like a grandiose brothel for your eyes and heart; each painting is on display for you to eye and get involved with, to look at what it is, how it’s shaped and formed, how it tells its story so uniquely by its curves and lines.
Once you have your fill you move on; how much can one take? After a few hours I felt saturated with sweetness and sadness; beauty in so many forms and fashions.
Experiencing this in person is so different. It’s necessary. In the Louvre I saw so many artworks. I tried to see all of them; hastily going from one to the next and spending more time with the ones I desired to see longer. I really wanted to become ‘one’ with all the works, to absorb them all and keep the precious moments alive for as long as I could.
I try to recollect each memory from the Louvre, I grasp at each picture, hall and walkway, trying to picture it in its completeness. Some details have left me, but I will pick them up as I go along.
I only had a day and I felt I just didn’t have that kind of magic in me to keep this experience alive forever. I knew the moments spent with each painting would fade into soft memories for me to keep forever. Unfortunately one can’t extend the life of a moment, it’s in its nature to be fleeting.
I am now grateful for each memory I have of that beautiful, majestic day. Each step I took and artwork I saw is housed and hung in a special compartment in my memory and heart. And it’s this that I want to keep forever and cherish, almost like a grand masterpiece itself.
A story waits with each painting. Many paintings share the same histories, but are created from different perspectives in time.