We spent the day at the Art Institute of Chicago, my first ever trip to a museum.
We found ourselves first in the Art of Europe exhibit, showcasing works from the Medieval period to the 20th century. The space was unbearably quiet, reverent—composed of whispered conversations and awestruck stares. Every piece here was so old, so grand, you couldn't help but to respect the space with silence and sincere viewing. Standing in front of each painting, observing its masterful techniques, following the contours of each figure and landscape... in the back of my mind, I felt slight resentment for the fact I had never been afforded this opportunity sooner.
Cupid Chastised, brought to life in 1613 by Bartolomeo Manfredi, depicted Mars—Roman God of War—violently lashing Cupid. Venus—God of Love, Cupid's mother—tries in vain to bring the beating to an end. A deep, black background contrasted vibrant robes, and encased the frantic energy of the figures.
Virgil, beside me underneath the looming painting, leaned over to me and spoke softly, considerately. "All is fair in love and war. Or something like that."
I pursed my lips, and gestured to the blindfold wrapped around Cupid's head. "Love is blind."
We lapsed into silence after that, with an appreciative and understanding nod. That had been our game that day, trying to interpret the meanings and symbology behind each work of art. Mars spoke to some primal instinct, some feral need for control. After all, Cupid incited his affair with Venus. He was so, so violent in his methods, pinning down the young Cupid. Virgil reached for my hand, I took it in mine, and we moved on to the next piece.