Leonardo da Vinci barely needs introductions. He is one of the poster children for genius alongside Einstein and Newton and his Mona Lisa is the best known work of art in the world. You would think that his story has been repeated ad infinitum in previous biographies. Isaacson, however, justifies this book's existence well. He is best known for his era-defining look into the life of Steve Jobs and, given his generalist background, he has the right background to deliver a balanced recounting of the polymath's story. After all, Leonardo's life is a combination of flamboyant brilliance, as seen in his best known paintings, grinding procrastination and an overall search for truth in a country on the cusp of a scientific revolution.
There are surprisingly few contemporary accounts of Leonardo and even those greatly embellish his life. Isaacson relies on Leonardo's notebooks for context, and with good reason, as those provide the best view into the mind of the artist. Leonardo was an obsessive note taker and his notebooks, the majority of which have survived for posterity, are filled with amazing sketches and thoughts written in his peculiar mirror-script. Paper was precious at the time, so he would revisit old drawings and continue a different topic on a used page. Or he would combine two drawings in unexpected ways: curly hair evolving into a water eddy or a tree evolving into a human circulatory system. Isaacson gracefully includes pictures of the relevant notebook pages, which is one reason to buy the book in hardcover and not Kindle format.
Isaacson proclaims that the notebooks are the primary inspiration for his interpretation of Leonardo. It's a good starting point, but it also underlines his weakness in interpreting Leonardo's art. At least for a layman, Isaacson's description of Leonardo's main oeuvre is too flowery and comes too close to some of the cliches that circulate about art criticism. He takes his interpretations one step too far and often repeats himself unnecessarily. His description of Leonardo's and Michelangelo's rivalry is much more interesting than the description of The Battle of Anghiari, a lost Leonardo that was commissioned to sit across the room with a Michelangelo. Leonardo's work and personality are best viewed in the context of another genius of the era, and it's a shame that Isaacson spends so little time on Leonardo's contemporaries. Leonardo is dandy and outgoing, but so fixated on perfecting ephemeral elements in his art that he often forfeits his commissions and leaves work unfinished. He would spend as much time perfecting a piece's perspective as he would on painting some of the figures. Michelangelo, on the other hand, slept in his clothes and, occasionally, in his boots. He would complete the largest and arguably most famous religious painting in the world: the ceiling of The Sistine Chapel in the Vatican.
I have a fundamental disagreement with Isaacson's description of Leonardo. He views the artist's inability to finish some of his main works - namely, The Battle of Anghiari and The Adoration of the Magi - as another display of his brilliance. According to his interpretation, the works were dropped because Leonardo could not find the perfect way to work out a particular detail in the painting; an artificial perspective or the right painting material. Leaving imperfect paintings unfinished means, in this oblique logic, that all finished paintings must be perfect, thus proving his genius. The same reasoning is applied to his inventions, like helicopters, crossbows and other apparatus, which were mostly untested in the field. For me, Leonardo was seminal in spite of this trait, not because of it. By being a fraction less demanding on himself, he would have produced even more great pieces of art without much reducing its quality. Art criticism often focuses on minutiae - which perhaps explains its love of Leonardo - but the world in general would have benefited if this particular genius had a slightly less perfectionist approach to life.
There are surprisingly few contemporary accounts of Leonardo and even those greatly embellish his life. Isaacson relies on Leonardo's notebooks for context, and with good reason, as those provide the best view into the mind of the artist. Leonardo was an obsessive note taker and his notebooks, the majority of which have survived for posterity, are filled with amazing sketches and thoughts written in his peculiar mirror-script. Paper was precious at the time, so he would revisit old drawings and continue a different topic on a used page. Or he would combine two drawings in unexpected ways: curly hair evolving into a water eddy or a tree evolving into a human circulatory system. Isaacson gracefully includes pictures of the relevant notebook pages, which is one reason to buy the book in hardcover and not Kindle format.
Isaacson proclaims that the notebooks are the primary inspiration for his interpretation of Leonardo. It's a good starting point, but it also underlines his weakness in interpreting Leonardo's art. At least for a layman, Isaacson's description of Leonardo's main oeuvre is too flowery and comes too close to some of the cliches that circulate about art criticism. He takes his interpretations one step too far and often repeats himself unnecessarily. His description of Leonardo's and Michelangelo's rivalry is much more interesting than the description of The Battle of Anghiari, a lost Leonardo that was commissioned to sit across the room with a Michelangelo. Leonardo's work and personality are best viewed in the context of another genius of the era, and it's a shame that Isaacson spends so little time on Leonardo's contemporaries. Leonardo is dandy and outgoing, but so fixated on perfecting ephemeral elements in his art that he often forfeits his commissions and leaves work unfinished. He would spend as much time perfecting a piece's perspective as he would on painting some of the figures. Michelangelo, on the other hand, slept in his clothes and, occasionally, in his boots. He would complete the largest and arguably most famous religious painting in the world: the ceiling of The Sistine Chapel in the Vatican.
I have a fundamental disagreement with Isaacson's description of Leonardo. He views the artist's inability to finish some of his main works - namely, The Battle of Anghiari and The Adoration of the Magi - as another display of his brilliance. According to his interpretation, the works were dropped because Leonardo could not find the perfect way to work out a particular detail in the painting; an artificial perspective or the right painting material. Leaving imperfect paintings unfinished means, in this oblique logic, that all finished paintings must be perfect, thus proving his genius. The same reasoning is applied to his inventions, like helicopters, crossbows and other apparatus, which were mostly untested in the field. For me, Leonardo was seminal in spite of this trait, not because of it. By being a fraction less demanding on himself, he would have produced even more great pieces of art without much reducing its quality. Art criticism often focuses on minutiae - which perhaps explains its love of Leonardo - but the world in general would have benefited if this particular genius had a slightly less perfectionist approach to life.