Day 98
Location 18: Rome
Feb. 7, 2023
The greatest movie of all time is the 2005 romantic comedy Hitch. In one scene, Will Smith assures the goofy Albert Brennaman (played by the goofy Kevin James) that he has suave potential. Will covers his own heart with his right hand and verbally labels himself "Michelangelo". Then, as if transferring his cool Will Smith energy (pre-slap) to The King of Queens, he moves his hand to cover his pupil's heart. Then, with two words he labels his soon-to-be-suave masterpiece, "Sistine Chapel".
Anyway that scene played on a loop in my head as we walked through the Vatican Museum today.
Two things stuck out to me about the Vatican Museum.
(1) The museum signs directing the crowd were all the same: At the top "This way for...". In the middle, an endless list of rooms no one recognized. And at the bottom, in sturdy bold letters, "Sistine Chapel". We were rats in a maze, tolerating the electric shocks of art we were uninterested in, knowing the cheese waiting for us at the end—the Sistine Chapel—would be worth it. The museum, playing the role of experiment administrator, knew this too.
(2) Put simply: with so much priceless art, it's unrealistic for them to get worked up about every piece. One hidden room off of the main hallway held a Van Gogh. Blink and you'd miss it. Later, without fanfare, a Dalí. At one point, we even passed a fractured dinner plate stained with meager finger-paint. We joked "probably a Picasso"—would've been on brand for them to take the least impressive work of the most impressive painter, just to have it. Wait, look closer at the plaque. It is a Picasso. A shining star in any other museum is relegated to a joke in this place.
Art by some guys no one cares about. Keep moving. We're almost at the Sistine Chapel.
Finally, we'd reached our cheesy Chapel. But out of nowhere the signs changed. Like a mirage of a lake in a desert that keeps moving further away the closer you get to it, the signs had fresh list of uninteresting rooms with the Sistine Chapel still at the bottom. As we soon learned, we had to traverse an entire surprise modern art museum before reaching the holy grail. More mazes. More electric shocks. The rats trudged on. And then, finally, we reached it.
Above me God extended his arm, touching index finger to index finger of his creation, Adam. Next to the Creator stood Kevin James, undeniably suave.
My one chance to disobey the strict No Photos policy and capture The Creation of Adam. Forgive me father, for I have sinned.
