Yup, that’s my real last name. Kinda underwhelming, huh? And you wanna know the strangest thing? Never did the kids tease me with Patrick Gay when I was young. Nope, it was always, “So did you score a hat-trick, Patrick?” “Hells yeah, dumbass,” I’d reply in my best Czech-English hybrid, “everyone in my country plays hockey like stars. Don’t you?”

I remember being friends after that.

Sorry, I’m getting off track. The point was that I was invited to come see an exhibit as a rep of TCL. I went disguised as myself; totally got away with it! Neat :)

This time, security apologized to me for asking me not to take photos. “Oh, sorry, sir. Wish they’d make those tags bigger!” “Hehe, that’s okay. By the way, I need to speak to your superior regarding your atrocious behaviour, swine!”

The power. *shiver*

I would’ve been very interested to see this exhibit anyway, so getting an invite was like a cherry on the whipped cream. With my favourite dessert underneath. Alas, I received no remuneration, alcoholic beverages, or comely female accompaniment, so I feel my hosts could’ve done better in those areas. But good on the Science Centre for inviting a good cross-section of media, even the little guys. *sniff*

And I must say, it’s really nice to be able to share a few photos with you, dear reader, in a much more relaxed manner.

Yeah, not that relaxed. But close.

This was one of those things where I just needed to move slowly and take photos of everything; no rush. The exhibit was all about athletics. Or love. Or something. I think. There were lots of smaller bits in display cases interspersed throughout that provided close-up details of something or other, and always in full colour:

Those are real human body parts, dear reader. Preserved for a good long time through a process called plastination. To sum it up, the sliced-up body part is submerged in acetone which replaces the water in the cells. Under a vacuum, the acetone boils off while a polymer (plastic) gets sucked in.  The cell walls are basically filled in with plastic. Then they add soul-piercing eyes:

To be honest, I think that what’s left is more plastic than human. Feels that way too. Do you have one of those thick hard plastic cutting boards? Yeah, feels like that.

Even though I think everyone at the exhibit knew that these were at one time real people, I think that they just seemed more like super-detailed mannequins. Everyone could just tell.

No freak-outs. No screaming kids. Not even at the more Gigeresque sections:

I must admit, I read nothing while I was there. They handed me a handset that I could use to dial up info on the exhibits but it slept comfortably in my pocket the entire way. I have no idea why it was called “The Story of the Heart”. Apparently there was a narrative or something.

I was considering whether or not I’d be willing to slap down $35 for a ticket to see this. The exhibit space isn’t that large, but I easily spent two and a half hours in there. I imagine the other shows by the IfP (the people behind all of this), are of equal length. Pricier than a movie, but definitely a unique experience.

And let me answer those three nagging questions that are no doubt running through your mind:

1. No, these are not unlucky convicts.
2. Yes, full jibblies are included. Sometimes mid-jump!
3. Let me answer this one with another question: but is it art?

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