Labyrinth of Art

When you have to display some of the largest and most prestigious collections in the world, often times in buildings repurposed for this new intention, it’s no wonder your museum often ends up being like a maze. It’s been calculated out how long it would take, non-stop, to look at every work of art in the Louvre, and let’s just say it’s longer than we had for this trip as a whole. I suppose it’s no wonder, then, that people just cruise around from gallery to gallery snapping pictures like it’s pokemon (“gotta catch ‘em all”), instead of taking their time with a few selected pieces. I think I saw more people look at their view screens than I saw people look at the art. Not that I think everything needed to be looked at and fawned over, but what is an experience of art if you walk around blinded by your camera and directed by a premeditated destination? This is where I have to stop and consider what a privilege it is that I have had any time in my life to spend at the Louvre, and that I had experienced it for the first time with a group of people who weren’t hell bent on dragging me to the predetermined hotspots. 

I had a chance to wander and discover what genuinely caught my interest. The Louvre really does offer a lot of beautiful moments, and not all of them have to do with the art. Up on the top floor in the Richelieu Wing, in some of the galleries, there are inset windows large enough to sit in that look out over the courtyard and gardens. It’s lovely opportunity to exist around the art that surrounds you in turn without it necessarily demanding your attention. 

It was this chance to wander and discover at my own pace that lead me to finding a captivating portrait of Gustave Lucien Dennery by Henri Toulouse-Lautrec. In a gallery done up much like a salon, a modest-sized painting hung amongst several other portraits. His formal dress and shoe-clad feet belie his casual reclining pose. His gaze is confident as he looks out at the viewer—I found myself wondering if he had wanted his portrait done or if he was asked to sit when he was least prepared for it.

I wasn’t the only one intrigued by him, I saw several people pause in front of him, inspecting the nameplate and looking at a man who seems to only exist in posterity thanks to this painting. Perhaps it was his reclining pose, so uncommon for a male sitter, at least in the context of the rest of the Louvre or it was his engaging gaze or his black shoes and bowler hat, but he seemed out of place, and all the more interesting. 

Not long after leaving the gallery and the portrait behind, I felt quite out of place myself. Trying to find my way back to the center room beneath the pyramid was apparently not as simple of a task as I had thought. I soon found myself lost in Ancient Egypt, but still no closer to the pyramid I was trying to find. Each exist I tried to take some how lead me back to a place I had just left, and since it is the Louvre and space is seeming infinite, just walking to the end of one way wasn’t an option. I was too turned around by one point I couldn’t even retrace my steps. Once I finally found the necessary exit signs, I made my way out as quickly as I could, when I finally emerged, I exited from a completely different wing than the one I had entered; it’s no wonder I was so turned around. It was an unforgettable experience in a labyrinth of art.