We have been DaVinci-ized – cryptographed at every turn. Troublesome puzzles gouge at our brains here, difficult translations bore through our thoughts there, long-lost religious icons drip under the sink, deep meanings hide in old paintings. My mother found a paint-by-numbers picture I did when I was 6 years old of a beagle and swears it is Mary Magdalene’s dog – and the pooch’s descendants are still alive somewhere in Nebraska being protected by a group of monastic Shriners in the back of a PetSmart.
Sixty million books, or is it billions? 49 years on the NYT Best Sellers list in fiction, nonfiction, paperback, business and the obits. The movie takes up 12 of the 24 screens at the Cineplex. Churches advertise sermons against it. It was hardy the Last Supper, if this is any indication.
Where are the DaVinci action figures? Is there a Mona Lisa video game? Opus Dei T-shirts? Holy Grail stemware? Will there be a “DaVinci 2, Revenge of the Albinos”?
I saw two teenage girls at the mall last week. They were styling like the Mona Lisa, with funky robes, greasy Renaissance hair and those weird, dull eyes. Creepy.
This whole DaVinci thing is bigger than “American Idol” jacked up on baseball ‘roids. It’s an entire industry. By the time you read this, there will probably be a DaVinci NASCAR sponsored by DaVinci Beer. DaVinci athletic wear can’t be far behind. DaVinci wouldn’t even recognize his own name brand. And that brand is screaming all over retaildom. Barnes & Noble will soon be Barnes, Noble & DaVinci based on the amount of DaVinci merchandise in their stores. Walk in the door and a gauntlet of those creepy Mona Lisa eyes stares at you through ripped paper. I got a DaVinci-flavored Frappucino there. Tasted about 2,000 years old. Like anything that old, it’s better with whipped cream.
I thought it might die down a bit, but it’s going strong after several years now. Will parents start naming newborns DaVinci?
“Mom, can DaVinci come over to play?”
“Which DaVinci? DaVinci Moore or DaVinci Smith or DaVinci Briggs?”
And if your name is already DaVinci? Bummer.
Soon popular culture will tire of Templars and abduct Michelangelo. Maybe Reubens. Or Caravaggio? There are a lot of the dead painters out there and I guarantee they painted some secrets into their work. Van Gogh’s ear? Still listening in Paris. Gauguin or Picasso or Monet? Sneaky guys all around.
I have to hand it to them, however; art history is a lot more interesting than when I had to take 40 credit hours in college. I needed some drama to keep me awake in those dark 8 a.m. classrooms humming with the slide projectors while my professors dragged us through deadly, monosyllabic descriptions of what Munch was thinking when he painted those dead-looking people with the hideous faces. He was thinking “Hollywood. Best seller. Moolah.”