Then you should see the Last Supper, it's nearly 30 feet wide (yes, it's a mural). Be warned though, what you see is mostly preservation work now, Leonardo used paint that has poor aging properties.
I've been to many of the top museums of the world now, esp. after traveling through Europe this summer, and my conclusion is I don't understand what makes something a masterpiece. I get that folks like Leonardo and Rembrandt have an incredible sense for light/shadow and it shows, but most of the things that truly impressed me were from little known Enlightenment period artists.
Did you know what Van Gogh thought of The Starry Night, his top masterwork? Nothing. He referred to it in a letter to his brother as being in a pile of paintings of no consequence and didn't even bother spending the money to ship it for evaluation. The Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam is a wonderful experience if you happen to be there... as an artist, he seemed to have great insight as to where he wanted to go and how he compared to his contemporaries. He would have surely felt the world had gone mad for elevating a failed experiment of his to such heights, but there it is.
Of course it's not just you. Plenty of people have felt very disappointed after seeing La Joconde.
I didn't, however. It is an incredible painting. Don't worry so much about the face. Look at the hands. Look at how alive they look. Da Vinci was able to make the skin feel plump and real. It shows subsurface scattering, the shadows are realistic and coherent. You can effortlessly imagine the texture of the fabric on her arms, how it sits slightly compressed on her right arm because of the angle, while more open and stretched out on her left arm. The light reflections are astonishing, and again, completely believable.
I'm an absolute nincompoop when it comes to art, but spending 5 minutes in front of this made me wish I had studied it more carefully.
the crowd is absolutely nuts there, couldn't even make it close. In many other places, the online time slots nowadays seem to work pretty well to spread out the crowd, but with the Louvre it seems that all of those 8 million annual visitors all go directly into that room, ignoring the other, like, 20 acres of that museum....
I wandered around the Louvre and didn't even think about the Mona Lisa being part of the exhibition. So I came from rooms, filled with huge paintings of old masters, into this small room, that was packed with visitors. I was astound and asked myself: "What is going on in here?", turned around and...THERE SHE WAS <gasp>!
Well placed beneath a sheet of the thickest armored glass I've ever seen! And she was so tiny! But: she smiled at me. And it was real! As, if this woman would be alive and you see her in a cafe two desks next to you!
I don't think she is so famous, because of this theft. She is famous, because she gives the viewer the impression of a real, alive person looking at you.
Not just you. It's a nice painting but an utter victim of mass-media-driven pop culture. The hysteria ruins immediate enjoyment too, how can you appreciate a painting while squeezed by tons of other people in a queue...?
Meanwhile, in another corner of the same building, the Nike of Samotracia stands alone, regal and terrifying in its splendor and 2000-year-old perfection. That is an experience worth having.
I've been to many of the top museums of the world now, esp. after traveling through Europe this summer, and my conclusion is I don't understand what makes something a masterpiece. I get that folks like Leonardo and Rembrandt have an incredible sense for light/shadow and it shows, but most of the things that truly impressed me were from little known Enlightenment period artists.
Did you know what Van Gogh thought of The Starry Night, his top masterwork? Nothing. He referred to it in a letter to his brother as being in a pile of paintings of no consequence and didn't even bother spending the money to ship it for evaluation. The Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam is a wonderful experience if you happen to be there... as an artist, he seemed to have great insight as to where he wanted to go and how he compared to his contemporaries. He would have surely felt the world had gone mad for elevating a failed experiment of his to such heights, but there it is.