“Leonardo was a very famous Italian painter, that’s why the Mona Lisa is obviously part of the Italian cultural heritage. When Leonardo went to France, to work at King Francis I’s court, he probably brought the Mona Lisa with him. It seems that in 1518 King Francis I acquired the Mona Lisa, which therefore ended up in the royal collections: that’s why it is obviously part of the French national heritage, too. “
In this quote, Elena Franchi, the author of “What is Cultural Heritage?” uses the word “obviously” to describe the Mona Lisa as belonging to two cultures. In using this word, Franchi makes a sweeping generalization about the cultural heritage of art, despite most of the article discussing the intricacies behind culture and identity. I believe that, in many ways, cultural heritage is interpretative and Franchi even describes it as being “our bond to the past,” meaning that each individual has a unique connection with the history that composes our cultures and, thereby, the preservation of cultural artifacts, whether they are tangible or not. Therefore, I disagree with Franchi’s use of the word “obviously” in describing Mona Lisa‘s origins.
In referring to my own culture, I often share about my family, home, traditions, holidays. One example of a tangible piece of my cultural heritage is depicted by a room in my childhood house in December. In this room, a Menorah stands on the window sill. A couple of feet behind stands a “Christmas” tree. These two seemingly contradictory symbols represent my dual identity as someone who comes from both a Jewish and Russian background. We use the “Christmas” tree to celebrate Novoi God, or New Year’s, with the side of my family that is Russian while the Menorah is a symbol of the eight days of Hanukkah that the other side of my family celebrates. These clashing identities come together and are captured by these tangible pieces that stand within just a couple of feet of one another.
While these two symbols are tangible, the ideas behind them are not. The idea of the identity that my siblings and I share are often passed down in this format: objects that represent ideas. Every year, we take both the candles for the Menorah and the star that goes on top of the “Christmas” tree, and we tell stories of our families as we create new memories. This is how our story is passed down.
To me, the bright lights are a beacon of hope for peace to unite families all over the world in the same way that they have brought me in defining who I am today, which is not so “obvious.”
