Milano, for me is La Scala. There is no other reason to visit. Although, once, on a bored afternoon, I decided to take a detour to see The Last Supper. It is located in one of the ugliest little buildings imaginable. The lines to get in are long. Once inside, there it is—in all its doorway-cut-through ragged peeling warped spender. Did I say ‘spender?’ Huh. The thing is a wreck. I couldn’t decide while standing in front of it, if the world has been sold a cosmic joke for four hundred years or if I was really standing in the presence of genius. To this day, I still don’t know. I mean, uh, it’s nice and all, but to be reproduced a billion times?
Voila! Now another intellectual, rigorous book about da Vinci's Last Supper, with fresh perspectives on how to analyze and interpret the painting—amalgamating an enormous amount of information. Including that feeling of ambiguity you get after looking at it for more than a few minutes. Kinda like my experience. Unlike myself, this author is profoundly in love with the paint on the plaster.
The author shows how Leonardo possessed an advanced understanding of perspective and created an impossible location; and the book contains an overview of Last Supper copies throughout history. No discussion of John the Baptist being a woman or more speculative aspects of the Last Supper such as secret society messages—only an analysis of the painting, unearthing the why and how Leonardo da Vinci put paint to brush to wall.