Dimensions

La Pietà is much smaller than I imagined. Could be the fact that all pictures I'd seen of it were extremely close up and I stood more than ten feet away from the actual statue, with a glass wall between. Perhaps the grandiose significance of the work makes it larger to the mind's eye than reality; having never seen it probably helps my brain give it greater dimensions. Whatever the case may be, I can't help shake off the bit of annoyance in me. This isn't the first time a work of art has disappointed me with its size.

Art, in the sense of paintings and sculptures, has never been a strong interest of mine. It's admirable and awe-inspiring, and emotions are elicited from my being, but a desire to study such works has never held me. I attribute this to my ineffectual drawing ability; my skill is not up to par with most elementary school students. As a result, my tastes tend to veer toward realistic portrayals of people and places. The ability for a person's hands to replicate so intricately the details of life is astonishing. Yet still there are artists of other schools that amaze me more, and the one that comes to mind is Salvador Dalí.

I can't recall when I first came across any of his paintings, but no doubt the first was The Persistence of Memory. Knowing myself, the fact that it's his most known work influences its appeal but in itself it is magnificent. Part of the reason I admire it so is that, though Dalí is a master of surrealism, this painting quite realistically portrays its subjects. Those pocket watches and ants and Spanish cliffs are transported from our world into his. So when he subtly yet overtly changes these objects and mixes them with one another we are presented with a work beyond the real - surreal, maybe? Those melting clocks widen my eyes and that white creature arouses my interest. It's a simple work with great significance that I love.

So imagine my surprise when I first saw it in the MoMA over a year ago only to find that it's nearly the size of printing paper. I could barely see it, particularly due to the crowd around it. Jose, who was with me, asked, "You didn't know it was that big?" How often this painting took nearly the entirety of my 19" computer screen! The copies I'd seen online were bigger than the original. The painting then lost some of its opulence.

When I saw Michelangelo's La Pietà, I had a flashback to my Dalí experience. Why are these works smaller than I imagine? Why does their size matter at all? While writing this, Dalí's painting and Michelangelo's statue regain the magnificence I attributed them in my head. The Persistence of Memory may be small, but it's Godzillian in nature. What a work of art! Simple, symbolic, small - yet a testament to the creativity of the human mind. La Pietà captures a heart-rending image that is spiritual and maternal; the curve of the drapery sprawling over Mary's body as she cradles her dead son amazes me with its technique. As I read a little and learn that the statue is pyramidal in structure, with Mary's head the vertex and the image widening as it reaches the base, I shudder with amazement. What a beauty!

After the marvel that was St. Peter's Basilica, and after straining my head in awe at the Sistine Chapel (there you are again, Michelangelo!), I had one more statue to see. It wasn't a Catholic piece - in fact, not even religious. It was the Augustus of Prima Porta, depicting the man who knew what Rome needed during a time of strife. History of the Roman Empire last semester fully brought me into a world that I long admired. Before that, HBO's Rome gave me a glimpse of these nearly mythical figures. Now I had the chance to see, though of stone, this regal man who birthed one of the world's greatest empires.

I found the sculpture. I even took a picture. It was as awesome.

And it was as big as I'd imagined.