It was a quick metro ride from where we’re staying to the Louvre. It was easy finding the entrance to the museum—just follow the swarming humanity. The Louvre is laid out like a large limestone palace enclosing a large courtyard. I expected touring this monstrosity to be taxing when it came to attention span because there’s too much to see in one visit. So selecting out most of the Greek sculpture and Napoleon’s plundered Egypt as well as the centuries of royal furniture I was bent on the galleries featuring early Flemish painting, Italian Renaissance painting, and some of the huge early 19th century French masterworks.
Easier planned than carried out. First, I have to make clear that Ella warned me. Initially she tolerated my eagerness to explore this famous repository of art. As the morning drew on her tolerance grew thin. By the time we left she was desperate to escape.
No matter what floor you’re on it’s hard to find the gallery you’re looking for on the museum map. Entrances to collections aren’t always marked. Early Northern European painting is all over the place and not in any kind of logical progression. Following the map’s directions, we headed towards the wing which purportedly held the Van Eycks and ended up trying to shake loose a locked gate. We asked a museum attendant what was up and he said that the collection was closed. This was exasperating since there was no mention throughout the museum of any gallery being closed. I began to get the uncomfortable feeling why someone could spend a whole day inside the Louvre.
Finding the rooms dedicated to the Italian Renaissance painters was insane. Different museum guides gave different directions. We were pointed to elevators that were out of order, stairs that led to extensive hallways filled with artifacts looted from Egyptian tombs. (There’s nothing like being lost and locking eyes with a carved obsidian canine-headed human.) Finally we came across a series of La Giaconda posters with arrows leading us through room after room of richly upholstered spindly-legged chairs (the cushions for courtiers collection) only to end up on a landing where the Mona Lisa smile snickered as we yanked on a locked door.
We should have just followed the swarm. Coming down a large staircase we ploughed into a mass of cellphone wielding onlookers mobbed at the foot of the Winged Victory.
A sizeable portion of this crowd was funneling towards a floor that had yet another snickering Mona Lisa poster pointing to a gallery that actually was the Italian Renaissance wing of the museum. Initially I was worried that this crush of humanity would make viewing most of the paintings a fight for perspective, but it turned out that very few visitors were interested in pausing for Giotto, Mantegna, or Fra Angelico.
No, the swarm was on a pilgrimage to get a cell shot of one painting. At least, I told myself, I wouldn’t miss where the Mona Lisa was safely encased in her small glass shrine.
Frankly, I was more intrigued by the Ingres and huge Davids and Delacroix in the following rooms.
Most of all, I was just glad to get the hell out of the museum and away from the crowd that kept pouring in as we passed countless fancy indoor shops before we hit the street bordering the Tuileries park.
We had a somewhat similar (but much better) experience when we visited the Louvre back in 1997. Huge crowds in front of the Mona Lisa; all the other masterpieces in the room totally ignored. And the Flemish wing was both open and virtually empty. Unlike you, apparently, we had a very nice day there.
PS Moira and I both loved “The Death of Sardanapalus.”
I spent a long time in relishing the Flemish collection at the Kunsthistorisches Vienna, so I wasn’t too bummed.
I spent a lot of time relishing the Northern European masters when I was at the Kunsthistorisches in Vienna, so I wasn’t too bummed.
I noticed the same thing in the Prado. You go into a room and everyone is around one painting and the others are ignored. That made me wonder if the other ones were like 1% less good or 20% less good or if art admits numerical comparisons. Out of necessity I looked at the less popular paintings. And that was fine since I know nothing about art.
It was also interesting that in the Italian Renaissance gallery they didn’t have any Michelangelos or Raphael’s. As far as crowd behavior and art, it’s fascinating and a little bit frightening. And cellphones don’t help.
They have at least two other Leonardos, La Belle Ferronnière and The Virgin of the Rocks. They also have quite a few Raphaels and Michelangelo sculptures.
I took in the other Leonardo’s, but I’ve always preferred the paintings of his in the Vatican. As far as Raphael goes the crowd must have blocked the way. Not too upset. When it comes to Michelangelo sculpture as well as Raphael’s painting, Rome and Florence have satisfied my need.
The Louvre seemed much more romantic in “The Art of Crime”.
The Louvre is at its best when cleared for a movie or TV shoot.
Same at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Could barely see the night watchman because of the selfie taking crowds clustered around it. Whole museum was like that.
I (think)I remember seeing the Mona Lisa (and the Pieta) at the New York Worlds fair in 1964. A large rubber belt was part of the process to move the crowds past them. No selfies to deal with back then.
I think, and Moira concurs, that the other paintings in the room with the Mona Lisa (or the Night Watch at the Rijksmuseum) are “just as good” (you can’t really rate the very best art — I remember someone [a doctor, no less] asking me if Schubert’s String Quintet was the best piece of chamber music ever composed).
The problem is that most tourists, like Charlie, know very little about art. So they go to see the few works that they have heard about their whole lives. There was a very funny essay by Art Buchwald called “The Three Minute Louvre” about getting in, seeing the Venus de Milo, the Winged Victory of Samothrace, and the Mona Lisa, and getting out in three minutes [I might have the title wrong, since a quick search didn’t find the original essay, but you’ll get the point, and believe it or not, there is actually a competition to see who can do it the fastest.]
I could go on about this… but won’t.