Back in 1986, I managed a quick trip on a student tour of Paris and toured the Louvre. I actually got a quick piece at the Mona Lisa from the distance of about fifty feet, looking over the heads of a couple hundred gallery goers. Our tour guide was quite knowledgeable, but at times seemed overly sure of himself.
For me, the high point of the Louvre was when he described an ebony sculpture of an almost emaciated human form that stood about seven and a half feet high. He described it as representing man’s alienation in the modern age. My response was, “Alien? Hell, that’s a life-size sculpture of Manute Bol.” My guide had no clue what I was talking about. All the basketball fans in my group decided that my interpretation was spot-on.