01.08.16, Paris, France
The Louvre was immediately recognizable because of its glass pyramid. The transparent monolith glittered in the daylight with the promise of the museum more famed and honored than any other in the world. Its lines were full of intent, and naturally drew the eye to the architectural marvel of the museum’s walls themselves, covered in curving and swirling embellishments of the French Renaissance, white and light browns on the roof and corners. The building itself seemed to be a work of art, the inside was more splendid than without, from the ancient stone roots of the building to the intricate paintings on the ceiling, depicting gods and angels, saints and creatures of all sorts, swirling among the clouds that had been carefully rendered among sculpted white and golden borders. The walls themselves were rich but light in color, and while they were resplendent in themselves they rarely detracted from the sculptures and arts that were contained within. The art itself was resplendent. All eras seemed to be represented in the Louvre, from Paleolithic artifacts to modern art from around the globe, cultures and times were represented. Ancient Egyptian artifacts, gold and sandy stone were contained in one hall, while white carved marble represented Grecian and Roman carvings, the men were sensual, the women much like the men. There were times when it was difficult to tell whether the statue was meant to be a boy or a woman, their white marble curves often leant themselves to androgyny. There were lions as well, and all manner of fish and serpents and dragons, from both the Greeks and the Chinese sculptures that were featured there. The paintings that hung on the wall were spectacular in a different way than the sculptures that were featured on the floors, they were dark in color and stormy, or sometimes light and resplendent. Much could be told about the renaissance and the painters themselves if one only looked at their brush strokes for a moment, gazed into the contents of the paintings; beautiful faces and ugly beasts, fire and storms or gardens and rivers. If one wanted to see the soul of the artist, one only needed to look at his work. It at times felt, especially when looking at Da Vinci’s work, the Mona Lisa crowded around by hundreds of people, that one could speak to them, their personalities and goals captured in the dried paint on their canvases. The Louvre is hundreds of different moments in time, hung on the walls and displayed in cases of glass.
