03/01/2026
Three years ago today I was standing in front of this historic fresco — The Last Supper with my dear friend Irina
Inevitably you know the masterpiece Painted by Leonardo da Vinci in 1495–1498, but do you know that it has endured more than most of us ever will.
One of the most remarkable things about this fresco is not just the artistry — it is what it survived.
During World War II, bombs fell around the monastery that housed it. The building collapsed. The refectory walls were reduced to rubble.
But in an act of fierce preservation, workers had built a protective brick wall around the painting.
When the dust settled, the monastery was gone.
The fresco remained.
As war rips across parts of our world today, I think about the masterpieces — artistic, cultural, human — that may not be shielded. The stories buried beneath debris. The beauty that may never be restored.
And I also think about what we choose to protect.
Most of us build walls around our fragile, egos walls that are brazen with graffiti loudly, making statements that defend our own narrative, but how do we protect what is truly valuable? How do we protect that aspect of us that has been with us since the beginning of time, the Soul?
What do we preserve at all costs?
What survives is a choice we make individually through the stories we tell, the recipes we pass down, the history we record in books. As we live and breathe in these uncertain times, as bombs and rockets light up the sky, we look to ask “what really matters most?”
This is humanity. The freedom to choose our stories.
This is one of the many reasons why I love art. Why Art for me creates a connection to the past and inspires a way forward in the future.
