Concrete Mona

When I was teaching at the University of Florida, I had an idea to teach my students about collaboration and impermanence, on a large scale. I divided up Leonardo DaVinci's Mona Lisa into as many sections as there were students, and gave each student a section to draw.

Using pastels, each student began his/her own drawing. As the piece progressed, they had to figure out how to make each section match the overall composition, in both proportion and color. This they did very effectively, switching sections with each other and offering suggestions for what had to change. Only one student refused to let anyone touch his section. As soon as he took a break to get some food, however, the other students tweaked his section to bring it into line with the rest of the piece. Problem solved.

The drawing was completed in just under four hours, and was situated in a very busy quad between several buildings. As throngs of other students passed by on their way to and from their classes, my own class began to wonder how long their masterpiece would last before getting stomped to death.

I explained that the process of creating art is every bit as important and lasting as the product itself, and that watching it change over time at the whim of something outside your control can be quite rewarding, if you look at it a certain way.

And then it rained. Torrential downpour rain, Florida-style. It was the perfect moment. Once the Concrete Mona was good and soaked, it darkened. Like a good coat of varnish, the mural took on a more aged feel, just like the original painting.

The rain must have leeched the pastel into the concrete, because that drawing was still visible, although faded, several weeks later.

-John Kieltyka