How we cite our quotes: (Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #7
Langdon's students were always amused to learn that Da Vinci eventually mollified the confraternity by painting them a second, "watered-down" version of Madonna of the Rocks in which everyone was arranged in a more orthodox manner. The second version now hung in London's National Gallery under the name Virgin of the Rocks, although Langdon still preferred the Louvre's more intriguing original. (32.20)
Obviously the original's more intriguing – Da Vinci's cleverly hostile juxtaposition of the subjects makes it infinitely more thought provoking. But what if Dan Brown's (Langdon's) interpretation of the masterpiece is incorrect?
Quote #8
For this reason, Grail enthusiasts still pored over Da Vinci's art and diaries in hopes of unearthing a hidden clue as to the Grail's current location. Some claimed the mountainous backdrop in Madonna of the Rocks matched the topography of a series of cave-ridden hills in Scotland. Others insisted that the suspicious placement of disciples in The Last Supper was some kind of code. Still others claimed that X rays of the Mona Lisa revealed she originally had been painted wearing a lapis lazuli pendant of Isis— a detail Da Vinci purportedly later decided to paint over. Langdon had never seen any evidence of the pendant, nor could he imagine how it could possibly reveal the Holy Grail, and yet Grail aficionados still discussed it ad nauseum on Internet bulletin boards and worldwide-web chat rooms. (40.16)
This is one of the best things about art: it's all open to interpretation. Even Langdon and Teabing are prone to believe in some conspiracy theory-type nonsense: "Wow, Jesus and the person next to him make the letter "M" in The Last Supper! That must allude to marriage. Or Mary Magdalene." Or "magnificent." Or how about Monster Mash? Maybe mayhem? You get the idea…
Quote #9
"I assume you recognize this fresco?"
He's kidding, right? Sophie was staring at the most famous fresco of all time— The Last Supper— Da Vinci's legendary painting from the wall of Santa Maria delle Grazie near Milan. The decaying fresco portrayed Jesus and His disciples at the moment that Jesus announced one of them would betray Him. "I know the fresco, yes."
"Then perhaps you would indulge me this little game? Close your eyes if you would."
Uncertain, Sophie closed her eyes."Where is Jesus sitting?" Teabing asked.
"In the center."
"Good. And what food are He and His disciples breaking and eating?"
"Bread." Obviously.
"Superb. And what drink?"
"Wine. They drank wine."
"Great. And one final question. How many wineglasses are on the table?"
Sophie paused, realizing it was a trick question. And after dinner, Jesus took the cup of wine, sharing it with His disciples. "One cup," she said. "The chalice." The Cup of Christ. The Holy Grail. "Jesus passed a single chalice of wine, just as modern Christians do at communion."
Teabing sighed. "Open your eyes."
She did. Teabing was grinning smugly. Sophie looked down at the painting, seeing to her astonishment that everyone at the table had a glass of wine, including Christ. Thirteen cups. Moreover, the cups were tiny, stemless, and made of glass. There was no chalice in the painting. No Holy Grail. (55.55-67)
It's amazing how your own preconceptions can shape what you see (or what you choose to see). Because Sophie assumed the Holy Grail is what Hollywood claims it is (i.e.: a fancy-schmancy cup…right?), she just figured there'd be one fancy cup in the painting, too. (Here's the fresco if you want to see for yourself.)