Monday 10 June 2013

The Seasoned Celebrity

A low, thin rail separated her from the hordes of pushing fans, more of an inviting seat than a barrier. They breathed hot air and jabbed with pointed hands as they vied for front row. Then their mouths formed little ‘ohs’ and they gazed adoringly at the face they had only seen on postcards and television. But she was not fazed; she had been doing this for years. She smiled her infamous smile, revealing nothing of herself except the suggestion of a secret.

The sand sponged wall behind her spread open like a blank canvas. People always commented on how small she was in real life; I blamed that wall with all its height and width. She looked vulnerable, pressed with her back against it. The security guards that flanked her left and right leant with wan grins and tried to smother yawns.

Was she behind glass? I couldn’t tell. Her face was so clear, hardly aged at all, and yet with all the flashing and snapping going on around my head I wondered at her preservation.

Her sisters had not received the same treatment. They were left out in the long halls, suffering the touch of oily fingers and close up scrutiny. I’d been shocked. I had expected more respect for them, a greater separation, not an up close and personal encounter. I had held my breath around them, not wanting to release a single harmful molecule onto their already cracking faces.

I reached the barrier as those ahead of me grew bored and moved on. It pressed into the tops of my legs as she drew me closer into her knowing stare. She seemed to look right at me and I felt a connection form between us, stretched over hundreds of years. I wanted to know who she was, how he had come to know her, what she had been thinking as she sat and he painted. I was filled with a sudden sadness; she had moved from the slow intimacy of the artist and his muse to the steals of impatient cameras. I wondered how many of the pressing crowd actually stood in awe of her, and how many were there only to take the bragging iconic shot to show friends and family.


I am ashamed to say, after removing the flash and apologising to Leonardo, that I took my own and walked away.     

No comments:

Post a Comment