This is the story of a simple village boy—the illegitimate son of a notary and a slave, a strong, young woman, a foreigner from far away. Leonardo—the name that means “freedom”—was probably given to his son by her. How was I able to tell this story? First of all, by listening to the voices of Leonardo’s contemporaries, whose testimonies were incomplete—yet obtained firsthand… the memories of those who knew him personally, to the documents and papers of his relatives, contracts, letters, chronicles, tax declarations, denunciations, and materials from court proceedings, the reports of ambassadors, the sketchbooks of artists and engineers, the praises of court poets, and the travel diary of a cardinal’s secretary.
The artist is divine—yet too “varied and unstable” in his inventions, too eager for perfection, and therefore practically incapable of finishing his own works; a many-sided genius, a magician and sorcerer, a saint and a demon, a superhuman, the herald of modern science. But where is he himself—the boy from Vinci? Personally, I prefer another voice—clear and truthful: his own. Testimony made of words and images. A flow of words, daily notes, thousands and thousands of pages of notebooks, sketchbooks, scattered sheets; images captured in hundreds of drawings, drafts, sketches, and several magnificent paintings.
Perhaps this is indeed Leonardo’s greatest invention—an astonishingly new form of global communication. An open, free manner of writing that recognizes no boundaries or hierarchies. A “future” style—challenging time and death. Immense work, a demonstration of a mind beyond schemes and prejudices, leaving all possible paths open. A true song of freedom.
Carlo Vecce