Jimmy Ripp
Engcw410
Prof. Danner
“The art of my heart work my Mona Lisa”
Intrigued. Yet so diligently searching for the suited origin’s definition of the never ending question that Aristotle himself could not resist even upon his last breath. “WHY!?”
Why this woman in the painting has grabbed my inner being and pulled on me so forcefully like a feeling of an inner tug-of-war that I cannot lose or win.
Why this woman of extraordinary basicness and with a continuity of a monotonous, discrete, subtle, suggestive and silent string of words and gestures that her portrait is in constant release of. Like a million guilty prisoners being pardoned at the same time and set free!
Why this woman with no facial decor by color, eccentricity in the hairstyle, cleavage or even suggestive skin showing to induce a flood of mouth-watering desire.
Why this woman in the painting being turned into an immortal portrait shows only resolve. No lines in her complexion as badge like scars of a life as a woman in this era. She is seemingly without worry. Aside from her need to hold that pose while the magic of the artist's paintbrush displaying and revealing what even he himself didn't know he wanted portrayed in the picture.
Why? Why? As I stand here in this cold empty art gallery of white walls and ceilings and gray solid marble floor with a 2-foot Velvet Rope barricaded in front of me and the only living breathing miracle besides myself is hanging on the wall before my eyes.
Why Mona Lisa? Why can I love you so deeply living in a time centuries long past the completion of your portrait and the release of that pose you seemingly held for an eternity? How can I love you? Do you know I love you? Can you know?
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