The Painting

You'll never look at The Master the same after this.

Disclaimer: I rarely do this, but I need to note that all of my stories are works of fiction, some more so than others. The Painting is 100% a product of a simple idea. Enjoy.

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His chosen method for analyzing and critiquing art was to sit in front of a great work for three or four hours at a time and bask in its beauty and essence. Collectors and art galleries paid Dr. Benoit plenty to appraise and verify authenticity, a different skill set than mere analyzing, but one he was amply qualified to do.

But this Rembrandt was different.

The world-renowned French art critic, Dr. Francois Benoit, sat in The Louvre for five hours a day for two full weeks analyzing The Night Watch.

Was it the eyes? The lighting? The people? The props Rembrandt had the people use? The woman? Was it the costumes? What was it?  What was wrong?

What was so unsettling about this masterpiece?

His notes at the end of the two weeks were sparse. He knew what he had to do to scratch that curiosity itch, but it wouldn’t be painless or cheap. There would be fees and permits and regulations and an uproar throughout the entire art community, but he had to know what was under that painting. Getting the priceless artwork scanned using multispectral imaging would cost him dearly even if he was right.

If he was wrong, it would ruin him as a critic and appraiser.

But one way or another, he had to know.

Dr. Benoit made phone calls, cajoled elected officials, cozied up to art aficionados and collectors, and forked over thousands of dollars just to get the community interested in what he was seeing. He was sure there was much more to this masterpiece than the naked eye could see.

Even as he had waited for approvals and permits, he’d spend an hour a day just observing this work of art, trying to really see it, to pinpoint his discontent.

Eight full months had passed since Benoit began the journey and today would be the end.

The machinery had been set up to scan and produce the data that technicians needed to determine what, if anything, was under The Night Watch. The technology had advanced so much in the last 50 years that they could see what was happening in real time.

Tonight Dr. Francois Benoit would reveal his findings and put to rest any misgivings he had regarding the work. It was exhilarating and nerve-wracking because he knew the consequences career-wise.

The gray bushy-headed Frenchman stood behind the technicians as the machine took its first scan of the painting. Their monitors revealed the progress. Benoit’s monitor displayed in real time what was under the work. Four painfully slow passes later and the results would be clear.

“Turn it off,” Dr. Benoit said in the middle of the third pass.

“But, sir…” one of the technicians said.

“I said ‘turn it off.’ I’ve seen enough. I’m paying for this and I cannot condone further desecration of this masterpiece. Shut if off…now!”

Three technicians near the painting took a step back, and the technician running the computer punched in a few buttons and said, “Lights!”

“Well, now. That was invigorating, wasn’t it?” Benoit asked, not expecting a response.

The room was still silent, stunned by this abrupt change.

“I will hold a press briefing in 30 minutes. Please gather the press as quickly as possible. Let’s not prolong this,” Benoit said walking out of the room.

When the press assembled in the art gallery lobby, Dr. Benoit stepped up to the microphone and said,

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the press and art lovers around the world. As you well know, this afternoon we conducted multiple multispectral imaging scans of Rembrandt’s The Night Watch. I was 95% certain there was another masterpiece hiding under this painting – as so many great artists have done in the past. So, at great personal sacrifice and expense, I underwent the process to make that happen. Today, after eight long and tedious months, we were able to see with our own eyes what lay beneath The Great Dutchman’s work of art. Midway through the scanning process, however, something swept over me, much like an immense tidal wave. Call it sadness, remorse, regret, disgust, what have you – I don’t know – but I chose to halt the scan to preserve the dignity and integrity of one of the world’s most gifted painter. I believed that if we continued, we – I – would dishonor the memory of The Master himself. I could not in good conscience continue. I saw what I needed to see under the painting.”

“Dr. Benoit, what did you see?” shouted a reporter in the back.

Benoit stepped back from the microphone and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I’m not able to articulate that in so many words. In fact, I’ll leave it at that. If others want to undertake this process again, I invite them to do so at their own expense. I will say that I learned a lot about the process and if I ever need to repeat it, I’ll be able to shave off four months at least. Thank you for your time. I look forward to critiquing more works in the future. That is all I have to say.”

Dr. Francois Benoit, connoisseur of fine art around the world, eased away from the podium without answering questions.

Seven hours later in the hotel pub and with two empty bottles of French wine beside him, Benoit stared into the distance, shaking his head.

The last words the bartender heard him mutter before ushering the art critic out was “Why, Rembrandt, why? Why? Why’d you have to paint by numbers? You were such a gifted man…a brilliant, gifted man. Didn’t you realize we’d figure it out eventually?”