I might be the only person crazy, brazen, or just plain dumb enough to call the Mona Lisa “creepy.” I’m unnerved by her ability to look at me no matter if I’m to her left or her right. No one’s field of vision needs to be that large. Tunnel vision baby!
So when I saw today’s photo prompt for the August writers’ challenge to do a page a day, I froze. The picture moves just like Mona Lisa does. The perspective shifts in four directions, and it bothered me. It reminded me of the creepy painting.
I hate the feeling of being watched by a hidden human. I read an article once that said we are, on the average drive home from work, recorded by no fewer than six (!) cameras.
Sometimes I look for them. I’m tempted to wave or smile at the ones I see. But I don’t. I keep listening to my audiobook or sing on off key as ever.
I blame the whole thing on da Vinci. If he’d never painted that infernal portait, I bet we wouldn’t even have “traffic cams”, and I wouldn’t feel watched—all.the.time.
I feel a tinge of guilt for even thinking that. Blaming some “big brother” parts of our world on daVinci, on his Mona Lisa. The poor girl with a big forehead, Illuminatiesque “knowing” smile (smirk if you ask me), and her lack of eyebrows.
The guilt shifts when I realize that I often smile for no discernable reasons other than my own thoughts. I also have a crooked hairline when wearing a pony tail. And, part of my left eyebrow was burned when I was seventeen, leaving me an abbreviated left brow.
And our names:
Only one letter keeps the score in her favor. They even sound similar.
I have a plan. Later, I will take a selfie and prop it up, looking to see if my gaze shifts too. I’m no daVinci, but it’ll work.
I wonder if I could get the humans behind my “on average six cameras” to take it. Isn’t their job studying my image anyway?
Artists study Mona Lisa’s image.
Invisible humans study mine.