Pi at Phi

The Golden Ratio is represented by the Greek letter Phi (Φ). The ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter is represented by the Greek letter Pi (Π). The Fibonacci Sequence, where the sum of each consecutive pair of numbers equals the following number, is closely related to Phi. Mount Healthy’s Fibonacci Brewing takes its name from this sequence. The first three digits of Pi are 3.14. Because this looks like March 14 when written American style, that date has become known as Pi Day. Because Pi and pie are homophones, it naturally became popular to eat pie on Pi Day. At Fibonacci Brewing, great honor is bestowed on the person consuming an entire pie the fastest without using their hands. Yes, everything about this, starting with Phi and Pi, is irrational. But it sure is fun.

Betty Bollas, who owns Fibonacci Brewing along with her husband Bob, says the idea for the event came to her in a dream. The brewery held its first Pi Day celebration in 2018. Mark from Brink Brewing, the guy in the opening photo, won. He won again in 2019. He didn’t get a chance in 2020 because the event was canceled with just days to go. Ohio’s official COVID triggered shutdown of bars and restaurants occurred on March 15 but it was already obvious that a big gathering at that time would not be a great idea. The event did not even reach the planning stage in 2021 but it’s back for 2022 with a nice white table cloth and a line of boxes filled with North College Hill Bakery cherry pies.

I apologize for not knowing who’s who but I do know that Urban Artifact, Humble Monk, Higher Gravity, Marty’s Hops N Vines, and Brink are all represented and that the guy in the center is a last-minute volunteer from the crowd recruited to tackle an unassigned pie. One of these pictures was taken at 7:05 and the other at 7:06.

Andrew Desenberg, a.k.a. The Gnarly Gnome, MCed while two unidentified fans cheered on the competitors. I have to wonder just how much standing while eating helped Zane from Humble Monk munch his way to victory. His name will now be added to the Fibonacci-Pi trophy just like Indy 500 winners are added to the Borg-Warner trophy. The Borg-Warner is currently valued at $3.5 million. Give it time.


I did my own pie eating before and after the competition. The before part was at Mom’s Restaurant where I got the next to last piece of apple pie. The after part was at the brewery with a pie from Big Dog’s Pizza truck. I sat down for both, used my hands, ate slowly, and enjoyed every bite.

Leo da Vinci and the Forty Machines

I’ve read that, once upon a time, ordinary people rarely needed to count past forty and that forty became another way of saying “a whole bunch”. That implies that Noah and family might not have watched it rain for precisely forty days and nights and that Ali Baba may not have encountered exactly forty bad guys. We have outgrown that, of course, and today use numbers like gazillion when we are tired of counting even though that probably occurs long before we reach forty. That is not, however, the case with this post. The Leonardo da Vinci: Machines in Motion exhibit currently at the National Museum of the Air Force in Dayton contains exactly forty of Leo’s “machines”.

I took in the exhibit on Friday. It is set against the wall farthest from the entrance which means there is some walking involved. Not only does this provide an opportunity for a little exercise, but there are also plenty of opportunities for getting distracted on the way by the many other, mostly permanent, displays in this wonderful museum. I skipped my favorite gallery, Early Years, and focused on the da Vinci exhibit and still spent at least as much time getting to and from it as I did experiencing it. It’s simply impossible to ignore all those unusual planes and their engaging stories.

A fair number of the displayed machines have to do with flight. That is certainly appropriate for the Air Force Museum although the exhibit’s makeup was not tuned for the location. In fact, this appearance seems to be a recent addition that is not yet listed on the schedule at the Machines in Motion website.

The high ceiling at the museum allows some of da Vinci’s concepts to be suspended overhead as if in flight although they sometimes have to share space with flying things of more recent vintage. The overhead displays include the “parachute” in the opening photograph. The version here is not quite full size. A full-sized version and a description of a real-world use of the design were part of the Da Vinci the Genius exhibit I saw in Cincinnati in 2016.

Leonardo’s flying machines may not have been practical but many of his other ideas certainly were. I don’t believe it is a proven fact that he invented ball bearings but his design of a revolving stage using them might have been their first practical application. His designs for converting one form of motion to another (e.g., rotary to linear) were definitely practical. Check out the kid getting a real hands on education in the background of the second picture. The third picture shows a machine combining several devices to raise heavy pillars.

Seeing this machine for grinding concave mirrors was a real learning experience for me. The sign next to it talks about burning mirrors and mentions that one of their uses was welding. Believing that welding was at best an eighteenth-century concept, I had to look into that and discovered that the welding of soft metals like gold and copper goes back much further and was rather common in da Vinci’s day.

The exhibit runs through May 8 and, like the museum itself, is free.

Bock Bock Goat

Cincinnati’s Bockfest has fared relatively well during the pandemic. It slipped in just ahead of the big shutdown in 2020 and muddled through 2021 with a few venues and some coordinated at-home celebrations. I believe there was even a very short parade around Dunlap Cafe but I can’t find any record of it. For 2022, it’s back in all its glory including a full-size parade with staging at Arnold’s just as it should be. ERRATUM 10-Mar-2022: My memory of Dunlap Cafe staging a short substitute for a canceled parade was only partially correct. It did happen but it was for the 2021 Cincinnati Reds Opening Day Parade, not the Bockfest Parade,

Lenten fish fries suffered a bunch because of COVID but it looks like they will also be operating somewhat like normal this year. In the past, I have walked past the fish fry at Old St. Mary’s Church as I followed the parade. I’m going to try patronizing a fish fry every week this year and got things started by reaching downtown early enough to stop by St. Mary’s before the parade. I munched on the tasty sandwich as I continued on to Arnold’s.

At Arnold’s, I grabbed a Moerlein Bar Bender bock to wash down the sandwich as the parade was being organized — and I use the term loosely — in the street in front of the bar.

The parade began to move a few minutes ahead of the scheduled 6:00 PM start. Seeing Cincinnati legend Jim Tarbell near the front helped make things feel normal.

Of course, Jim wasn’t the only familiar and reassuring parade entry.

And there were plenty of new entries and old entries in new guises.

I always appreciate the touch of glamour that the Court of the Sausage Queen and the energetic dance troupes add.

The parade’s endpoint has been moved to Findley Market Playground from the closed Moerlein facility on Moore street. Despite the structure’s obvious lack of both bricks and mortar, it is still called Bock Hall rather than Bock Tent.

Perry Huntoon and his son were in town for the festival and we met up outside Bock Hall. After one Hudepohl Bock, we walked up the street to the slightly less crowded but at least as noisy Northern Row Brewery. Northern Row was actually serving their bock at a stand outside the big tent but, even though the brewery was rather full, the beer line was much shorter.


Rhinegeist Brewery is sort of just around the corner and Perry and Erik turned in there while I headed on to the car and home. I extended my Bockfest involvement just a little on Saturday with a visit to Fibonacci Brewing. That’s Honey Doppelbock on the counter. It is named after the goat with the splash of white on her head. I also tried Fiddlehead Maibock, named after the white goat. I guess Buttercup, the third goat, doesn’t have a beer named after her yet.

Big Heads on Parade

This is one of those embarrassing moments when I experience something for the first time that has been going on for years right under my nose and is so cool I should have been attending regularly.  It’s the Mainstrasse Mardi Gras Parade in Covington, Kentucky. I’ve heard of Mardi Gras in Covington and possibly even heard there was a parade but I don’t remember. What I do remember is news reports about inebriated revelers trashing yards and peeing in bushes. It didn’t sound like a place I wanted to be. But this year I read about the parade with participants wearing gigantic papier-mâché heads and that very much sounded like something I wanted to see.

I reached the staging area with enough time to snap pictures of some of the big heads before they covered smaller heads.

Then got pictures of a few of those heads in place but not yet marching. I really don’t know just when this first began. One person I asked said, “At least ten years.” Another thought it started “around 2000”. I overheard someone telling a friend, “The last time I came down for this was twenty years ago”. I imagine I’ll eventually find something online that tells me, but not yet.

There were plenty of normal-sized heads in the parade and everybody was clearly having a lot of fun.

But it was the big heads that had gotten my attention and set the parade apart.

Most of the Mainstrasse restaurants and bars were fairly full before the parade started and became downright packed when it ended. Many had doormen posted to keep occupancy to legal levels. I moved away from the center of the festivities until I found a bar that was busy but not overcrowded and had one beer before heading home. I’ve absolutely nothing against partying in the streets for Mardi Gras but I’m too old and the street’s too cold.   

Book Review
Lost Cincinnati Concert Venues
Steven Rosen

This book brought back some memories, corrected others, and filled in gaps I didn’t even know I had. And I was only here for the last quarter of the covered period. For the years before I moved to Cincinnati, it confirmed some rumors and filled in some blanks. Its author, Steven Rosen, has done an awful lot of writing both as an employee (Cincinnati Enquirer, Denver Post) and as a freelancer (NY Times, LA Times, Cincinnati Magazine, etc.). He is currently serving as Contributing Visual Arts Editor for Cincinnati CityBeat as well as continuing to freelance. With a resume like that, it’s surprising to learn that this is Rosen’s first book.

True to its title, the book is organized by the venues where concerts took place, but venues only matter because of the events they host, and those events are what is really at the heart of Lost Cincinnati Concert Venues of the ’50s and ’60s. The two venues in the subtitle are great examples. The Surf Club operated at the beginning of the 1960s and became known for hosting comedians like Lenny Bruce, Dick Gregory, Henny Youngman, and Phyllis Diller; musicians such as Sarah Vaughan, Peter, Paul, & Mary, and Julius La Rosa; and acts like The Smothers Brothers and Homer & Jethro who were a bit of both. Ludlow Garage rose at the end of the decade with performances by Alice Cooper, the Allman Brothers, Santana, the Kinks, and a whole bunch more. People may or may not remember that the Surf Club had taxidermied swordfish on the walls or that the Ludlow Garage had some really big chairs, but remembering where you saw Phyllis Diller or the Allman Brothers is a certainty.

Cincinnati is a border town with some Kentucky venues as accessible to residents as many in Cincinnati itself. Rosen’s first chapter is, in fact, titled “Northern Kentucky”. He acknowledges the Beverly Hills and Lookout House showrooms but seems to feel that their notoriety has brought them enough attention. He focuses on some lesser-known places like the Sportsman’s Club (where the Drifters once performed), the Copa Club (Miles Davis, Sam Cooke, and more), and Stagman’s Flamingo Dance Club (Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry, et. al.).

Rosen describes and locates the venues then fleshes them out with tales of the acts that played there and the people who owned and managed them. In the case of the northern Kentucky clubs, ownership might have a little organized crime involved and Rosen discusses that too.

There is also a chapter on “Downtown Cincinnati” (Living Room, Albee Theater) and one called “Neighborhoods and Beyond”. There are lots of neighborhoods in Cincinnati and Rosen doesn’t get to all of them but here’s a sampling of the neighborhood-venue-performer combinations he does get to: Walnut Hills, New Cotton Club, Aretha Franklin; Eastern Avenue, Vet’s Inn, Albert Washington; Western Hills, Hawaiian Gardens, Lonnie Mack.

Some venues get their own chapters. In addition to the subtitle’s Surf Club and Ludlow Garage, there’s Cincinnati Gardens, Seven Cities, Babe Bakers, Hyde Park-Mount Lookout Teen Center, and Black Dome. Gene Autry played the Gardens long before that Everly Brothers headlined show with Rodgers, Holly, Anka, Cochran, et.al., and in the years that followed, the Stones, Beatles, James Brown, Bob Dylan, and just about everybody else played there.

One act and one event also get their own chapters. The act, not surprisingly, is the Beatles who played Cincinnati twice; once at Cincinnati Gardens and once at Crosley Field. The event is the Cincinnati Summer Pop Festival of June 13, 1970. It was also held at Crosley Field and Rosen uses the chapter to mention that the Ohio Valley Jazz Festival took place there from 1964 to 1970. With acts like Traffic, Mountain, Grand Funk Railroad, and Bob Seger, the Pop Festival was a major event and Rosen can certainly be forgiven for stretching the ’50s and ’60s by a few months. Back in those days, people apparently sometimes brought pineapple upside-down cake and peanut butter to concerts giving fans something to remember Alice Cooper (cake) and Iggy Pop (peanut butter) by.

Rosen used some of his own memories in this book and combed through a lot of local papers and other publications. He also contacted many of the others who were actually there. Jim Tarbell, of Hyde Park Center and Ludlow Garage fame, provided the forward. He also provides a telling comment about loss at the end of the ’60s. Reflecting on rock becoming big business, he says, “It was baptism by fire to realize how quickly the whole scene changed from peace and love to money.”

Even though it’s not exactly about peace and love and money, the book’s final sentence does make a thoughtful observation on the loss of a major Cincinnati concert venue. “Crosley Field is now lost but is still dearly missed by fans of both Cincinnati baseball and Iggy Pop.”

Lost Cincinnati Concert Venues of the ’50s and ’60s: From the Surf Club to Ludlow Garage, Steven Rosen, The History Press (Jan 10, 2022), 6 x 9 inches, 176 pages, ISBN 978-1467147217

Available multiple places including Arcadia Publishing (History Press) but I suggest going straight to the guy who wrote it: StevenRosen.net.

Trip Peek #115
Trip #47
Natchez Christmas

This picture is from my 2006 Natchez Christmas trip. It shows the gilded hand atop the steeple of the First Presbyterian Church in Port Gibson, MS, that mimicks a gesture the church’s founder and first pastor often used in his sermons. The photograph was made while traveling north on the Natchez Trace Parkway after spending Christmas in Natchez, MS. On the way south, I’d spent a night in Clarksdale, MS. My northbound route followed the parkway all the way to its terminus near Nashville, TN, but I slipped off to visit things like the Vicksburg National Military Park, Elvis’ birthplace in Tupelo, and this flying finger of faith in Port Gibson.


Trip Peeks are short articles published when my world is too busy or too boring for a current events piece to be completed in time for the Sunday posting. In addition to a photo thumbnail from a completed road trip, each Peek includes a brief description of that photo plus links to the full-sized photo and the associated trip journal.

Loveland Hearts Afire

Loveland didn’t start out as a land of love and romance. A store owner named James Loveland supplied its name. But it has worked hard to justify its “Sweetheart of Ohio” nickname with things like its Valentine Re-mailing Program. This year it cranked things up a notch with Hearts Afire Weekend. Activities like a date auction, speed dating, and pet adoption filled the pre-Valentine’s Day weekend but for me, the attraction was the ice carving display.

I photographed nearly all of the twenty-some carvings but am including just a few of my favorites. With the local pro footballers playing in the big game on Valentine’s Day Eve, you knew that there would be a tiger or two in the mix.

Maybe the carving of a frog was inspired by the legend of the Loveland Frog. Maybe not.

There was dancing in the street with Premier Tumbling and Dance instigating, and inside City Hall, the King and Queen of Hearts greeted shoppers headed to Heartland Market.

I grabbed photos of the raw materials and tools waiting in front of city hall for the ice carving demonstrations.

Then returned a little later to watch some of those demos.

I didn’t stick around for the fireworks but did take advantage of a wonderful opportunity to look at love from both sides.

On With the Snow/Show

I did something pretty stupid this week and this is my confession. Some of the nasty weather running around the country came to my neighborhood. On Wednesday, the National Weather Service issued a winter storm warning for southwest Ohio that would begin at midnight and remain in effect until 7:00 AM Friday. At just about the midpoint of that thirty-one-hour period, I set off on a hundred-mile drive to Dayton and back.

Nearly four months ago, when one February day seemed as good as any other, I purchased a ticket to see Hamilton at the Schuster Center in Dayton, Ohio. On Thursday, as various alerts and other weather-related stories popped up, I thought the show might be canceled and took a look at the theater website where I found this banner displayed. The small print says, “All performances will go on as scheduled unless there is a Level 3 Snow Emergency in Montgomery County, Ohio.” Since purchasing the ticket, I had received a few emails with advice on parking and restaurants and some other details about attending the performance including one that arrived at noon on Thursday. Read about Ohio’s three levels of snow emergencies here.

Normal driving time to the theater would be under an hour but I knew that would not now be the case. I figured I should leave about 5:00 for the 7:30 show. About 4:20, I called the theater looking for real-time human confirmation that the show would go on. After sixteen minutes on hold, a recording asked me to leave a message for a callback. The callback came about fifteen minutes later but I somehow missed it. The caller left voicemail that didn’t show up on my phone until I was in the theater. Cell phones can really act funny and sometimes mine seems funnier than most. Answering the call or learning of the message earlier wouldn’t have actually made a difference since the message just reaffirmed the banner on the website.

So this is where the stupid begins. In spite of seeing roughly four inches of snow at my garage door and knowing that the streets at my condominium hadn’t been touched, I thought the expressways might be better. When I saw that they weren’t, I should have turned around but instead, I turned on a Dayton (actually Yellow Springs) station thinking the expressways at my destination might be better. Hearing that a section of I-75 (which I was headed to) in Dayton was closed was another nudge toward reversing course but I didn’t. The closure had been announced earlier and by the time I actually reached the expressway, there was an announcement that it had reopened through Dayton. However, all exits into downtown were blocked. I did not turn around then, either.

Montgomery County went to a Level 2 Snow Emergency around 5:30. Images of the show being canceled just as I arrived began to form in my head but instead of turning around, I placed another call to the theater. This time I eventually reached a person who told me that the show had not been canceled but that they were now offering refunds to anyone choosing not to attend. Even though I was now past the halfway point, I probably should have headed home but nope.

Some downtown exits, including the one I planned to take, were indeed blocked but there were others open. I passed the theater and pulled into the parking garage. There was to be an $8.00 charge for parking but the attendant waved everybody in from behind a handwritten “FREE PARKING” sign.

This is my view from the front row of the lower balcony. It was a fantastic location for visuals but maybe not so good for audio. I really do wish I had made some effort to familiarize myself with the lyrics beforehand. There were multiple reasons for me not understanding every word including my relatively ancient ears. That my bum hearing played a role was supported by the fact that people near me reacted to some lines I didn’t understand at all. On the other hand, at intermission (after Washington has become President) a person a few seats away asked if the war was over. Nonetheless, I take full responsibility for not following some of the details. I went away quite impressed with the performance and even more impressed with the creativity behind it.

Snow was still falling when the play let out but it was very light. The streets didn’t look much different than when I arrived. Inside the garage, some of the snow that I had picked up on the way had fallen off but I was confident that I could get those wheel wells packed again in almost no time.

There was a line of cars exiting the garage but by the time I was a block or two away, the streets were looking pretty empty. The expressways were fairly empty too. They weren’t entirely deserted but the traffic was sparse and slow and everybody stayed in their own lane — as far as I know.

Although I didn’t actually see it until Friday morning, this message was emailed about a quarter to 6:00 on Thursday. A similar message was posted to Facebook and the website, presumedly about the same time.

Benny’s Back

The last Saturday of January 2021 came and went without fireworks or other hoopla in Buckeye Lake, Ohio. That’s normally the day of the Buckeye Lake Winterfest but the event, like so many others, fell victim to COVID-19. Interestingly, the previous year’s Winterfest was one of the last pre-pandemic events I attended. The blog entry is here. A December 2020 newspaper article announcing the postponement said organizers were hoping to hold the event in the spring but that seems not to have happened. What attracted me to the event in the first place was its use of Benny the Bass in a Puxsuntawny Phil style role in predicting the timing of warmer weather. Last year, people were not nearly as interested in when winter would end as when the pandemic would. That may actually be true this year as well, but Benny was back on the job in any case.

I was on my way north long before dawn was even thinking about cracking. In 2020, I parked near the brewery and walked to and from the park where Benny makes his prediction. This year, with snow on the ground and near-zero temperatures, I had no desire to do much walking and drove directly to the park. There were a few cars present when I arrived but not many. Before getting out of my car, I decided to drive to the other side of town for coffee.

By the time I returned, Benny and quite a few fans had arrived. I managed to get the closeup of the real Benny at the top of this post before it got too crowded, and I got a shot of the mascot Benny — but not a very good one — a bit later. Removing a glove to take pictures was something I kept to a minimum and taking pictures with both gloves on was something that kept picture quality to a minimum.

In the predawn darkness, the shadow-based method of predicting that groundhogs employ is useless. Instead, a bunch of minnows is dumped into Benny’s tank and a one-minute countdown begins. If the time expires without Benny downing a minnow, six more weeks of winter is to be expected. If a minnow is gone before the time is, we’ll have an early spring. Either way, we get fireworks.

In 2020, the crowd chanted “Eat it, Benny”. This year they seemed too cold to chant much of anything despite the MC leading the more official “Take the Bait. Spring can’t wait.” cheer. That, plus repeated playings of the new Winterfest song, may have done the trick. All the minnows survived until the thirty-second warning and several seconds longer but then…

I took the picture of Benny’s tank and prediction once the area was sufficiently clear of bodies to get a clear view. Once the park was sufficiently clear of cars that I could get out of my parking space, I drove directly to Our Lakeside Diner for the traditional (It is now!) perch and eggs breakfast. Incidentally, this place definitely knows how to serve coffee.

Then it was down the street to the Buckeye Lake Brewery for another tradition. When I was here in 2020, I delayed having a beer until I had walked around the town quite a bit. This year, despite a fourfold increase in temperature since I’d arrived, I had no desire for a stroll of any length. So the perch was quickly followed by a Winterfest Ale and that was quickly followed by my departure for home.

Went to the Chapel

I don’t know if we are entering an era of fine art circuses or if they are merely a passing fad. Apparently Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel: The Exhibition has been in circulation since 2015. My impression is that the various immersive Van Gogh shows (I recently saw this one.) date to 2020 or so but I’m not certain. Those dates make me think that the current popularity of the Sistine Chapel thing might be fallout from the popularity of the Van Gogh things but I am not, of course, certain of that either. What I am certain of is that I didn’t hear of either before late 2021 and the hoopla surrounding one made me receptive to the hoopla surrounding the other.

One characteristic the two exhibitions have in common is physical size. Lots of space is needed to either immerse people in wall-sized projections or surround them with ceiling-sized prints. The Sistine Chapel exhibition in Dayton occupies one floor of a former Elder-Beerman department store. Not knowing the location of the now unmarked store within the mall meant driving around until I spotted a sign-covered entrance.

It was a bit before the stated opening time and that entrance was locked. Several people moved on when they discovered this but I and a few others waited. Timed tickets came with instructions to arrive at least ten minutes ahead of the scheduled entrance, and the doors were unlocked with almost enough time to make good on that. Three women entered ahead of me. As we got our tickets scanned, a group approached from inside the building. I’m guessing these were people familiar with the mall and aware of another entrance to the store that may or may not have been open earlier but which clearly required a walk to the exhibition entrance. One of the ladies in front of me opted to watch a video before entering and the others paused at the gift shop. I entered the exhibit first and alone.

I have seen photos taken of Sistine Chapel exhibits in other cities where some of the prints are displayed overhead to simulate, I presume, the ceiling of the real chapel. Thankfully that wasn’t the case here as that would at least partially nullify the “up close” claim of exhibit promotions.

There’s no question that the most familiar image from the chapel frescoes is of God’s finger bestowing life to Adam. That detail is from The Creation of Adam which is placed very near the entrance. I’ve seen plenty of reproductions of this scene but I guess I have always focused on the hands or maybe the faces of God and Adam. Before today I’d never noticed the young lady on the right with wide-open eyes aimed directly at Adam.

I was completely unfamiliar with the majority of images displayed and that includes, perhaps surprisingly, The Creation of Eve. I don’t recall ever seeing a reproduction of this image before. I may have missed one here or there but it certainly hasn’t been given a whole lot of attention by the world at large. Michelangelo thought it was important enough to put it in the very center of the Sistine Chapel ceiling. There is a placard by each print that gives some information about the image and shows its position at the chapel. The one for The Creation of Eve is here. A clearer view of the ceiling, taken from a poster in a window at the entrance, is here.

The Creation of Adam and The Creation of Eve are visible from the main room but are set back a bit. I had actually viewed every picture in that entire room, with very little company, between viewing Adam and then Eve. Behind me, the steadily increasing crowd was doing the same.

Almost nothing in the main room was familiar to me. The same was true of the prints in the area beyond Eve — with one exception. This image of God with arms extended is one I’ve seen several times. In fact, it and the almost touching hands from The Creation of Adam were both used in promotional materials for this exhibit. However, I really knew nothing about it and my previous interpretation was completely wrong. I’d thought God looked pretty angry in the painting and assumed he was telling someone to get off his lawn or out of his garden. The Creation of the Sun, Moon, and Plants contains two images of God. His expression in the righthand image is not one of anger but an indication of the force being used. The lefthand image is of a true “dark side of the moon” moment with God turned away from the viewer as he creates Earth’s vegetation.

Once I’d passed by all the prints, I sat down to watch that video I’d skipped on the way in. It was not tied directly to the exhibit but was primarily comprised of PBS programming on Michelangelo. One of the things I learned from the video was that, in exchange for carving a crucifix for the Church of Santo Spirito, he was allowed to study corpses awaiting burial at the church. The Deluge and The Drunkenness of Noah are just two examples of how he made use of the knowledge of anatomy gained there.

A fair-sized line existed when I started watching the video but it was pretty much gone by the time it had cycled through. The video mentioned The Last Judgement and reminded me that I had seen it mentioned in exhibition ads but had not seen it at the exhibition itself. Michelangelo painted The Last Judgement at the Sistine Chapel altar twenty-five years after he had painted the ceiling. Thinking I might have somehow missed it, I stepped back inside to take another look. No luck, and I was eventually told that it was “lost at the airport”. The exhibition images are described as “life-sized” and a picture on the exhibition website makes it look like that includes The Last Judgement. As we’re often reminded, “Many Bags Look Alike” so maybe someone accidentally walked off with the wrong 40′ by 45′ suitcase.

I have seen comments online about the exhibit being unrefined and knocking the lighting in particular. Those comments are, in my opinion, accurate. The prints are not displayed and lighted as would be expected in a good art museum. There are actually some similarities, starting with the fact that it’s set up in an abandoned store, between the exhibit and those “starving artists” sales that used to pop up in furniture outlets and such. The process that accurately transferred the images from the curved ceiling to large flat panels is remarkable and the prints are quite impressive but, at the end of the day, they really are just printed versions of paintings.

There is certainly no possibility that the defunct Ohio department store will be mistaken for a five-century old Italian chapel. But there is a very real possibility that attendees will get a sense of the magnitude of Michelangelo’s accomplishment that just isn’t there when looking at normal-sized reproductions of the artwork. The images are big and there’s a lot of them. Yes, the exhibition is a circus and its staging leaves plenty to be desired but I came away with a pretty good appreciation for the six thousand square foot (plus 1800 sq. ft. Last Lost Judgement) masterpiece without crossing the Atlantic. And I got a much better look at the details than I could ever get craning my neck to peer at images nearly forty feet above my head.