Re-initializing Da Vinci

Re-initializing Da Vinci

By H.F

            “Excuse me, sir!” said a 10 year-old boy while approaching the counter behind which stood an aged man.

The boy held out his hands holding a large frame that’s covered with a silky cloth. The man unfolded the soft material and shockingly became astounded; before him—before his very eyes—was a portrait of Mona Lisa.

Garrick Dumont, the man’s real name, was a French art historian for over 20 years, and has taught art history at Cambridge University. Dumont had spent most of his academic career studying the Renaissance from 14th to 16th centuries. He was mostly interested in the work of the star of the late Renaissance, Leonardo Da Vinci. The Mona Lisa portrait drew his attention upon graduation from college, so he decided to learn more about the Renaissance man and unravel the secrets behind his masterpiece—Mona Lisa.

Dumont became successful at answering many questions about the portrait, such as the time it took Leonardo to finish it and what materials—if not all—he used to complete it. Unfortunately, Dumont was not able to answer—like many scholars and art historians couldn’t—the most important question: how did the Renaissance man make such fine portrait?

Now in his 60s Dumont retired from teaching and decided to follow a casual life, and that is opening his own shop where he could buy antiques from customers. He had this fondness for antiques that he wished to compile as much as possible to make up his own collection.

After retirement Dumont built his own shop called “Dumont’s Antiquities,” which is situated in uptown part of Seattle, where his shop was considered to be the least attractive in comparison with other commercial stores. So far he bought twenty-six antiques from costumers, few of which were sculptures and old pictures showing soldiers in 1916 during World War 1, others being coins that were almost 300 years old—all of them he bought from his Retirement Savings Account. But today was completely different; a piece of art he had yearned to have in his possession was right in front of him. This could be the greatest moment of his life, he thought.

“I want to sell Lola Corola for $100,000, mister,” the boy finally said.

Dumont thought it was a joke. Even though Mona Lisa is worth more than the price, he couldn’t afford even for $1,000. The man thought it was a fake portrait.

“You mean Mona Lisa, not Lola Corola,” the man corrected him.

“I call it Lola Corola,” the boy went on.

“Do you know the man who painted this piece?” Dumont said. The boy shook his head.

Dumont thought of two possible explanations: the Lola Corola—according to the boy—must be a fake portrait, or it’s an actual Mona Lisa that must’ve been stolen from the museum in Italy. The man knew the latter seemed ludicrous since it’s impossible for the boy to steal a popular painting. Maybe an adult stole it and gave it to him?

Dumont looked at the portrait for a while as he was trying to recollect his memories of the time he got to actually see the painting in detail, though did not touch or even see it closely. He realized the frame was different; it was a plastic frame he’d seen at some store only for photos or portraits of people. The painting seemed slightly smaller than the one he’d seen, but still he denied it was the actual painting. He looked at the enigmatic smile of the woman sitting; the authenticity of her smile brought warmth to his heart. Dumont wanted the painting so dearly that he once had a dream of having a large Mona Lisa painting hanged on the wall in his office.

The man became desperate to examine the piece that the boy wanted to sell to confirm whether it’s the actual one or just another masterpiece made by someone else.