One evening a couple of weeks ago, the Boy and I heard a crash in my office. Concerned, we dashed to the room and discovered that the art my Grandma Jaracz had left me (or maybe it was one of the things from her house I’d claimed after she died) had fallen off the wall.
You haven’t heard about the Jaraczs grand art collection? OK, so it’s not along the lines of the Wildenstein Collection or Steve Wynn’s collection, Grandma Jaracz did have one piece that I’ve never seen anywhere else:
It’s a 3D Lentograph of “The Last Supper,” Plate No. 103 by Anita’s Imports in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. That’s right, 3-D, with patented technology. It’s been popped into a wooden frame that’s been stapled together (with no glass front or protective backing), and the kicker is that the hanger on the frame is this:
This, my friends, is a pull-tab can opener. Knowing my family, it’s likely from a beer can, but it’s a relic nonetheless. In fact, when anyone comments about the picture, I quickly pull it off the wall and say something like, “Yeah, the 3-D is cool, but it’s hung up with a pull-tab!”
We have no idea why it fell off the wall. This was just before Easter–I’m not saying that the remembrance of Holy Week events had anything to do with the incident, but if you’re easily spooked or are heavy into religious symbolism (there is no image of the Virgin Mary in the pull-tab, contrary to popular belief), then maybe you can read something into that.
Yet now I’m going to have to restore this piece to its original glory. That means making sure the art is wiped down with a “soft cotton or cheese cloth,” per the directions on the print, it’s carefully tucked behind all of the metal tabs on the frame and then the pull-tab is carefully polished and reaffixed. Only then it may be rehung in all its glory to once more grace my office with its presence.