Project Vision 21

Francisco Miraval

In his tango Cambalache, written in 1935, Argentinean composer Enrique Santos Discepolo warned about that chaotic mixture of different elements in a “cambalache” (second-hand store), a metaphor he used to describe the 20th century, where you could find a copy of the Bible next to a water heater, as if both had the same value. According to Discepolo, you could see the Bible crying.  

I recently witnessed a similar display of superimposing something of value and something without value in the window of a store at a commercial mall in downtown Denver. An image of the Mona Lisa appeared at the same level (literally) that the image of a young model posing for a store selling clothes to young people.

Paraphrasing Discepolo, you could see Mona Lisa almost crying, without losing her enigmatic smile.

This is what I saw: at a corner of the commercial center, there was a window –to the right of the observer– with a large image of Mona Lisa, inviting the public to see an exhibition of replicas of artifacts built by Da Vinci. At a 90º angle, on another window, there was a large image of a model (Chanel Iman), promoting a well-known store.

There were two other elements to complete the scene. First, between Mona Lisa and the model there was a large poster -with no commercial purpose- showing an image of red candy. And in front and below both Mona Lisa and the model there were two strategically situated trashcans.

The scene seems to tell me that the only thing separating Mona Lisa from the model was some candy with no nutritional value. And that the only thing these two ladies had in common, in addition of being mostly unreal, was to be next to trashcans.

I am not trying to diminish anything Chanel Iman may have accomplished. In fact, I know nothing about her, except that she is attractive. I do not believe her image was put on purpose so close to Mona Lisa, but, with so many marketing techniques being used, I am not so sure it happened by chance either.

Whatever the case, I had to stop and think about the strange mixture of worthy and worthless elements, the permanent and the ephemeral, the centuries-old image and the new image, and the deep and the superficial. I must confess I had a hard time distinguishing one from the other.

I do not pretend to be so sophisticated that I only focus on “important” issues or topics. And I do not mind if an attractive model discreetly shows some of her attributes as part of an ad campaign.

But I found myself trying to find the meaning of Mona Lisa, still smiling and almost crying, looking at a model with lots of makeup and few clothes. I do not know if there is any meaning in the superimposition of those two images. Perhaps the most real part of the scene was the red candies, because I can have access to them.