Last summer I met the Mona Lisa, most famous painting in the world. I don’t quite know why, and I doubt the above do, and yet here they are, the paparazzi. To me an art gallery evokes tall rooms with space to stare, to piece together stories and strokes. But to do such with La Joconde is now impossible. She’s not for befriending or slowly getting to know. She is a celebrity. And why do we treat celebrities this way? Not like people, but like images. We want their picture, their silence, and a demure smile, and we are satisfied.