Mon’Alice, ah?
Click to enlarge. Source: Whisk
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This imagined or derivative cartoon—where Sir John Tenniel’s Alice is posed like Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, embracing the White Rabbit—presents a striking fusion of classical portraiture and Victorian whimsy. Though Tenniel himself never created such a composition in his original illustrations for Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, this modern pastiche or reinterpretation invites a layered critique, both stylistic and symbolic.
1. Compositional Echoes of da Vinci
The reference to Mona Lisa is overt: Alice is seated frontally, her hands calmly folded (or, in this case, gently cradling the White Rabbit), and she gazes directly at the viewer with an enigmatic expression. The background—if consistent with the Mona Lisa—might show a stylized dreamscape or the surreal terrain of Wonderland, echoing da Vinci’s atmospheric sfumato but populated with impossible landscapes or chessboard rivers.
This juxtaposition elevates Alice from a mere literary character to a figure of Renaissance mystery and contemplative depth. The White Rabbit, clutched close to her, could symbolize her entry into the surreal and irrational—an object of affection, curiosity, and obsession.
2. Tenniel’s Line and Texture
If the drawing mimics Tenniel’s cross-hatched penwork, it marries the exacting Victorian illustration style with Renaissance chiaroscuro. The tension between rigid linework and the ethereal mood of da Vinci’s composition results in a curious harmony—just as Wonderland blends nonsense with logic.
Tenniel’s Alice is known for her aloof composure, even amid chaos. Here, that detachment becomes contemplative. Her usual sense of bewilderment is replaced with something more quietly knowing—a nod, perhaps, to da Vinci’s study of psychological depth.
3. Symbolism and Irony
By placing Alice in a canonical art pose, the piece satirizes how we elevate children’s literature into academic and cultural canon, and yet underscores how deserving it is. Alice cradling the White Rabbit recalls Madonna-and-Child iconography—but distorted through a secular, absurdist lens. She’s not holding salvation; she’s embracing confusion, time-anxiety, and escape.
The rabbit, usually harried and anxious, appears calm, even comforted—reversing roles. It’s no longer a herald of disorder but a passive object, suggesting perhaps that Alice has conquered Wonderland in her own mind.
4. Psychological Reading
Positioned like the Mona Lisa, Alice seems arrested in a moment of reflection. Is she dreaming, or is she awake and remembering? Is this portrait a moment after her adventures, where Wonderland has become internalized—a part of her soul?
Her gaze, like Lisa’s, is ambiguous: innocence tinged with experience, and childhood edged with knowledge. The viewer is left to wonder what she has seen.
Conclusion
This cartoon—if truly in Tenniel’s manner—becomes more than a clever pastiche. It’s a cultural palimpsest, layering literary nonsense over Renaissance gravitas, and infusing a child’s surreal journey with the haunting stillness of high art. It plays not only with aesthetic style but with the very nature of meaning, memory, and identity—exactly as Alice in Wonderland itself does.
