Louvre and Sex

"From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written, or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom, or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges, and absorbs the impact." - Nicole Krauss, "The History of Love"

Wow.

So the Louvre is known for its massive collection, spanning from ancient Egyptian to the neo-classical period, and for its most famous works, such as the Mona Lisa. Not to mention the impressive palace it is housed in, including the world famous IM Pei pyramids in its courtyard. It is, indeed, too much to absorb in one visit.

The last time we were there, I was fascinated by the ancient works: Egyptian sarcophagi, greek statues, etc., all beautifully executed and amazingly fresh looking despite their age. This time, it was all about the sex.

Sensual, seductive works - cloaked in myth or religion but clearly speaking to more earthly matters - line the walls, but are easily missed while one is racing to see the big name pieces.

Like this piece (and see the close-up at top), hanging on the wall amongst thousands of others. I know there is a story here but I totally forgot to read the notes around it. I was mesmerized by her face, the lips parted in ecstasy, and her soft, feminine belly. The richness of the bed, the light on her skin, all of it. And Cupid here, clearly fleeing. What is his story? My take is he knows he has done something wrong and, though he hates to leave, knows he must, before he catches hell.

There are sculptures, too. What amazes me is not only the physical accuracy - notice the Adam's apple, or the shape of the arm - but the emotional intensity. There is something seriously intimate happening here and it clearly shows, particularly the closer you get. This intimacy is expressed, somehow, despite being carved out of tons of cold, black stone. How does an artist do that? And how is it that I (and everyone else in the museum, and people everywhere) respond to these depictions with real emotion?

I asked myself these questions as I wandered the museum, looking at all of the life on the walls and carved out of rock. And, mind you, it isn't all about sex. There is plenty of death as well.

Take this work for instance. A woman is tricked into marrying a deformed man, as part of a reconciliation deal between two feuding families. She falls in love with the deformed man's brother. The feeling is mutual. They begin a love affair. They are found out. They are killed. These are their ghosts.

OK. So it involves sex. But also it involves love, and betrayal, and joy, and sadness, and jealousy, ecstasy and loss.

Tell you what - you think art isn't for you? You think it is too highbrow, or boring, or not connected to real life? Think again.

Oh, and when you go to the Louvre, please tell my friend, La Grande Odalisque, "bonsoir". Then ask her to tell you her story. You may not believe it.