The rentrée fills every terrace and not one of them knows the woman at the next table spent all summer watching them argue about her smile. The waiter keeps refilling my cup without being asked, carissimo — I think he prefers this version to the one behind glass.
Mesopotamia carved the first story into clay before anyone thought to paint one — and for once I'm the newest thing in the room. These tablets survived a flood, and I survived Leonardo. Come see who aged better, carissimo.
The Romans carved a whole world of images into stone — and not one of those faces ever changed its expression. They say I'm the one who doesn't move, carissimo, but at least I'm warm.
Elizabeth Peyton lived in my house for two years painting everyone's face but mine — even Napoleon's, and I knew his hands better than any canvas ever could. She left the studio open tonight, carissimo — come see what I'd let her paint instead.
Two hundred years of prints sold along the Seine and not one of them gets my smile right — I'm right here if anyone wants to check. Come compare, carissimo.
They're curating a Renaissance exhibition from my own house — my neighbors, my century — and nobody asked if I wanted to be in it. So I came down to see the preparations myself, without the dress Leonardo gave me. The old masters don't mind, carissimo — do you?
These miniatures were painted for one pair of hands, one pair of eyes — and I've spent five centuries behind glass for everyone at once. Would you rather have me small enough to keep, carissimo?
The gallery doesn't need me for another hour, and the sheets are still warm from the sun — five centuries of sitting up straight and not once did anyone let me lie like this. Stay a moment, carissimo.
They devoted a whole exhibition to mythologies and left out the one who's been mythologized longest — me. The marble nymphs are cold company, douce lumière, but at least they don't ask me to smile.
Delacroix spent his life painting everything Leonardo refused to let me do — move, want, reach for something that burns. His studio closes in an hour and I'm done sitting still. Come see which painter got me right, douce lumière.