I am famous and more than 500 years old. Five hundred and eighteen years - to be precise. My creator is long dead now, but I am still here.
Although one might argue, it is not the same me as I was first created. Roughly 18 percent of me got lost over time and 40 percent of me has been recreated. I have survived a bomb attack. But the humidity and pollution is slowly killing me. I have heard people whisper that I am deteriorating every day, despite all the efforts to save me.
Long before we got bombed, monks ate solemnly in my presence. Nowadays people come from all over the world and stand there in front of me in complete silence. They make appointments months in advance to see me. And they are never allowed to stay more than half an hour in this big empty hall with me. It is hard to live forever as an oil and tempera painting. I was created by Leonardo da Vinci and I hang from the walls of the Santa Maria della Grazie in Milan, as a famous artwork - the “Last Supper”.
I have inspired generations of artists. It is not just my geometry and remarkable perspective; it is my divinity and eternal importance as an enduring piece of art. I have delighted hundreds of tourists by giving meaning to their vacations. And I have comforted many a soul by making them see something bigger than themselves.
I was created during the height of the Renaissance period and my creator Da Vinci worked hard to find the characters whose faces he likened to the 12 apostles in the painting. He created a lasting image of a triangle shaped Jesus with his arms stretched, reaching out for the bread and wine, which was supposed to signify his body and blood respectively. Windows behind depict paradise. And he looked for the meanest face in Milan when he was painting Judas.
Da Vinci created a lasting image of Jesus in me. And I guess I returned the favor by creating a lasting image of him in history. Sometimes I wonder who really created whom.