THE AUTHORING AUCTIONEER

We all know the story of how Leonardo da Vinci used his time machine to travel back to the Jerusalem of antiquity, where he burst in on the Last Supper, forced Jesus and the Apostles to one side of the table, and placed them all into unnatural postions.  After snapping several Polaroids with a Kodak he had acquired on a trip to the future, da Vinci returned to his own time and painted “The Last Supper.”

After working on it for three years, it was unveiled at a small venue in Milan in 1498.  It was an immediate, runaway hit.  Scheduled viewings for the masterpiece sold out.  People waited on line at Ticketmaster stations for days, even weeks, trying to get into the show.  Lenny, as da Vinci had started calling himself, became an overnight success.  He suddenly had it all: fame, fortune, women, and all the Pop Tarts he could eat.

While it was on tour, the cultural phenomenon of “The Last Supper” caught the attention of Pope Roman Numeral.  He realized that Lenny’s painting could return much needed prestige and money to the Catholic Church, which hadn’t had a true summer blockbuster since The Spanish Inquisition twenty years earlier.  So the pontiff arranged for a “sanctified unveiling and official blessing” of “The Last Supper” at the Colosseum in Rome.

Tragically, while walking the red carpet to enter the event, Joan Rivers asked da Vinci what his next project was going to be.  The artist answered, “I’m writing a book that describes how the sun is the center of our solar system, not the Earth.”  The Colosseum show went on that night, but in the morning, when Ms. Rivers published her red carpet interview, it all came crashing down.

The public that had fallen in love with Lenny viciously turned on him for his heliocentric views.  Needing to distance the Church from the scandal, Pope Roman Numeral excommunicated da Vinci under the charge of blasphemy.  It was all over.  Although da Vinci continued to eek out a living as a painter, he never again saw the wealth that would have made his ingenious designs a reality.  Such is why the helicopter didn’t take flight until 1942.

Then, in 1997, the Papacy acknowledged that the sun is indeed the center of our solar system.  Leonardo da Vinci was posthumously reinstated as a member of the Church.  Joan Rivers, who had originally defamed him, addressed the world on the E! network, issuing an apology and tearfully asking, “But where is ‘The Last Supper?’”  People were shocked to discover that The Santa Maria delle Grazie, a church in Milan, had been displaying the painting in its dining hall unbeknownst to everyone because the food was so bad there that no one ever showed up to eat.

Hence, the late 20th century saw a resurgence of love for da Vinci’s work, especially for “The Last Supper.”  Indeed, 478 year after his death, it was more popular than ever.  As more and more people visited the Santa Maria delle Grazie to see the original, the food there improved and the church’s insurance company insisted that the painting be appraised.  The official report contained a picture of the appraiser standing in front of the painting, shrugging his shoulders.  The caption next to the photo read, “Billions and billions.”

This led to a new discovery: Many Christian families around the world, particularly in the United States, had been secretly hanging copies of “The Last Supper” on the walls of their homes for decades.  No one knew this until auction and art galleries became inundated with phone calls from those hoping to ride the newest da Vinci money train by selling their reproductions.  The market–auctions, flea markets, eBay–became flooded.  Today, copies of “The Last Supper” can only derive their value from how fancily or plainly they are framed.

Indeed, reprints can range in value from as little as $1 to only as much as $50.  Perversion of the image also exist on blacklight posters and velvet, which should be burned with garlic and the ashes boiled in holy water.  While the only substantial value lies in the original masterpiece, it is worth noting that the Polaroids da Vinci snapped and used to paint it have never been found.  They may still be out there.  Were they ever to go to auction, who knows what they would fetch.

And now on a more serious note…

The vintage beer cans seen in the slideshow below were offered by The Savo Auctioneers at Rebecca’s Auction Gallery in Olyphant, Pennsylvania on Thursday, June 12.  The 254 cans ranged from the 1930s to more modern day examples.  They were offered as a single collection.

Collectors from Pennsylvania, New York, Washington, Tennessee, and Missouri vied for ownership.  A gentleman from St. Louis, Missouri claimed the cans with his winning bid of $4,250.  With the addition of the 10% buyers’ premium, the final selling price for this vintage beer can collection was $4,675.