One good thing about growing up in New York City is that it is a very culturally diverse city. New York has plenty of attractions, a little something for everyone and thus drawing thousands of people to it every year. A lot of things require a lot of money but likewise there are also a lot of free things to enjoy as well. As I mentioned in a prior story, my mother was determined to expose us, my sister, brother and me, to a myriad of cultural experiences. Not only did she love all kinds of music – classical, jazz, calypso, Latin, opera, etc., but she took us to every free play performance at Prospect Park, Brooklyn, and I don’t think we ever missed a Christmas or Easter show at Radio City Music Hall. I can say that even in my school experience, we were introduced to all kinds of music. I remember going to Carnegie Hall on a school field trip. That particular field trip was memorable because it was at Carnegie Hall that I discovered my fear of heights! As we climbed the steps in the balcony of that great hall, I turned to look down at the stage and whoa, I was terrified!! I started hyperventilating and had to sit down immediately. That was definitely a memorable experience. In elementary school, about once a month, we would go to a classical music performance. We were always constantly being surrounded by music and art. I don’t think my mother knew much about art but believe me, she was just as passionate about the art world. The following narrative speaks to her passion and determination to enhance our cultural awareness.
On February 7, 1963, Leonardo Da Vinci’s painting the Mona Lisa arrived in New York City at the Metropolitan Museum of Art all the way from the Louvre in Paris, France. The Mona Lisa is considered “an archetypal masterpiece of the Italian Renaissance”. Subsequently, I learned that The Mona Lisa is considered the most valuable painting in the world. It holds the Guinness World Record for the highest known painting insurance valuation in history at $100 million in 1962 the equivalent to $1 billion as of 2023.
In 1963 I was a mere 10 years old, turning 11 in October of that year, and didn’t know much about art. I overheard my mother talking with her cousin/best friend about possibly going to see this “famous” painting. There was a lot of talk about it on the radio station we would listen to at home. The station even launched a contest to see who could draw the best replica of the famous “Mona Lisa” painting. I tried my hand at it, even begging my mother to buy me some paint and brushes so I could paint my drawing, but it didn’t come out so nice so I didn’t send it in. For weeks there was so much buzz around the impending visit of the Mona Lisa. I had no clue what all the fuss was about and the significance of this painting – but you can be sure if there was any way it could happen, my mother was going to take us to see it. The day she decided to take us was a cold, cloudy, early spring day, typical New York City spring weather, with off and on rain. We rode the subway uptown from Brooklyn and arrived at the museum to find this unbelievably long line. The line snaked around blocks upon blocks. It has been reported that over a million people went to see that painting during its six-week stay. Well, I can say that I was amongst those million people! By the time we got inside (which seemed like hours later) and I thawed out from the cold, I was actually getting excited about seeing the “Mona Lisa”; I had been singing that song sung by the crooner, Nat King Cole, in my head for weeks…..”Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa men have named you…..”.
Getting inside the museum was a major feat. Even after getting inside, you still had a distance to go before actually getting to where the display was. To my disappointment, after all that anticipation, we couldn’t even get that close to the painting. Not only that, there was a glare from the window behind where the painting was displayed which made it almost impossible to see clearly. It was so far away from us and me being very young and vertically challenged, I barely could see it. They would only let you stand there for a minute or less before insisting that you move on. It remained a mystery to me as to the importance of this “Masterpiece” by Leonardo Da Vinci. Just who was this Mona Lisa anyway? I didn’t even think she was that attractive. My mother was much prettier than she was!! There was absolutely NOTHING about that painting that affected any of my senses in a positive way! Sure, I was consumed with feeling – the feeling that overwhelmed me was PAIN! My feet hurt so badly, and I was beyond hungry. What came to mind for me was “I stood up all this long to see THAT??? I guess it was just part of our cultural education. On some level, I was happy to say that I was one of the millions of people who made history by going to visit the Mona Lisa. After all, it’s not every day that the Mona Lisa comes to New York to visit. I returned the courtesy by visiting her home, the Louvre in Paris, France some 56 years later. All I can say is that one of us has aged considerably since that cold, damp spring day in 1963.
8 Responses
Great story, Jeanette. I saw the Mona Lisa nearly 20 years ago at the Louvre and it was a pretty surreal experience. I can’t explain it but the painting had a glow. I took my oldest son to Paris 3 years ago and marveled about this original painting we were going to see at the Louvre. Unfortunately, the Mona Lisa was roped off, enclosed in a plexiglass case, and surrounded by guards who didn’t let you stand still for very long.
My son was more impressed by visiting the sculpture that Jay-Z and Beyonce stood in front of for a recent video they filmed at the Louvre…sigh.
lol, that sounds about right.
Great story. My mom took my sister, brother and I to many art museums here in New York. She was an artist and she took us to get exposure to what that world was. It was through her that I learned about oil, water color and pastel painting.
Since her passing, I have some of her paintings on my walls. I guess it’s my own museum and it gives me pleasure to absorb her work every day.
She taught me that art is important.
Tho’ I can say that I have never visited the Mona Lisa, either in New York or Paris, nor thought much about it until having read your childhood story, I can truly say I have lived vicariously through your experience, excitement, and somewhat disappointment after long anticipation with hype. Your storytellings of yesteryears are always fun to read. Great story.
After the stint in New York, the Mona Lisa was on display in Washington, DC. I did have an opportunity to see the painting in Washington and had the same reaction. Monia Lisa wasn’t attractive at all. Many years later, I had an opportunity to see the painting again in Paris. I still don’t understand why it is so valuable.
This makes me laugh. My mom also took us to see the Mona Lisa in NYC and i was even younger. My first impression was how small the painting was. Hopefully I’ll get to see it in Paris soon. Maybe I’ll appreciate it more. 🤣
Love your stories, Jeanette!
It’s always difficult to write a comment about my Sister’s reflections of our childhood experiences, because she is such a sentimental and engaging writing expressionist. When I read her stories, I am immediately transferred to a unique space of persistent calmness, while traveling through sincere moments of essence. And I, with my wordy bumbling, can always find some awkward way of rummaging through her quiet garden, and invariably disturb the peace. But all in all, I do have something to say. With the intensity of our family internal fire, I can’t resist the temptation to go on the record, by opening up my big mouth as I test the waters, to see if I could merely just get a word in edgewise. And so, here I go again…..
I so, do remember that fateful day of standing on line to see this world famous painting. More so, I remember the atmosphere of the time. So, if my sister was eleven years old, I was thirteen. I remember it was the beginning of the Spring season because that’s the time of my birthday. I always remember major events that took place in my season of arrival on earth. Yes, my mother, loved Nat King Cole, and she would even sing and hum that song during the time the painting was here in New York. But the back story is that the painting was brought here through a cultural expansion project of the First Lady, Jackie Kennedy. That was what made it significant in my mother’s desire to go to see the painting. She had been impressed with the first lady’s sense of style and affection for the arts. The December before the painting arrived, my mother who had recently taken a millinery sewing course, made each of us a “Jackie Kennedy” favorite “pillbox style hat. That was one of the many Christmas gifts she gave us that year. So, it was important that we wore our “Jackie Kennedy hats” to this event. I remember that we were both so giddy about wearing our hats, and in our immaturity, we were so sure that everyone at the event, would notice how stylish our Mother had dressed us for this special occasion.
The day we went to view the “Mona Lisa” was the last day of the showing, so when we arrived and saw the long line we were compelled to stand for as long as it took to have this iconic cultural experience. Yes, it was cold and a bit drizzly that day, and we were dressed in our spring “Sunday Best”. The wait was long and challenging, but my sister and I chatted and fidgeted until we got to that tall staircase leading to the big doors of the Famous New York Metropolitan Museum of Art. Then we quieted down along with everyone else, as we entered this massive building. In that moment of walking through those doors there was a silent reverence that started to overtake our senses and the feeling of anticipation was running throughout the majestic hall and the hearts and minds of everyone present. You could feel it and hear a noisy silence as we slowly walked into the room where she was. There were two lines aside a central aisle where the painting seemly sat suspended in mid-air on an invisible podium, center of the empty space between the two lines like the center aisle in church. The aisle was delineated by thick red velvet ropes attached to short evenly spaced gold-colored poles on each side. No one said a word, as we slowly inched our way up to the painting. We stopped for a few moments and stared intently, as we finally met this “powerful woman”, who millions raved about.
The interesting thing was that Mona looked average. She wasn’t dressed fancy, and she didn’t even seem interested in me. She appeared aloof, and didn’t seem to care who cared about her. At the time I thought: is this power? What did she do to deserve this reverence? I had not heard any heroic stories about her earthly activities. I wondered and asked my mother after we passed by her, how she could be so famous without doing any important good deeds for humankind. She didn’t even have at least a good story to tell about some unusual events in her life. I found out later, that it was all about the expression of the artist who decided to elevate the beauty of an average woman.
I must say, my life was changed that day. My appreciation of art, the people who make art, and the respect of the audience, elevated my understanding of the importance of self- expression through a language, that only a few people in the world can speak, but everyone can understand. The day was so special to me because I came to understand the gifts of God and the importance of respecting everyone’s talent. We all come here with special gifts, and this is really, God incarnate. It’s those gifts that shape the world we live in, and the level of comfort we find within. I realized we need to respect the talent we are given; as it is God’s artistic expression, and without it we would perish quite quickly.
It is clear, I would not have said the understanding I received that day, as a thirteen-year-old, in the way I am speaking today, but I am quite sure of the essence of my intellectual revelations in those moments.
My mother was genius, coming from the bushes and grassy share-cropping farms of South Carolina, somehow, she knew how to impart the reverence of life to us, through fine art.
We have been blessed with her wisdom. That is the richness of Black African genius from which I was born. Ase! (Amen!) May the power of wisdom continue to roam within and among us!