his son was to give him an insatiable drive for an unconditional
patron.”
Indeed, all of Leonardo’s artistic life exhibits an almost childlike
search for love and acceptance from the powerful men he worked for.
He devotedly served his first mentor, Andrea del Verrocchio, for
more than eleven years—until Leonardo was twenty-five—an
incredibly long time for such a prodigal talent (Michelangelo broke
out on his own at sixteen). What could have attracted a sweet soul
like Leonardo to Cesare Borgia, a murderous psychopath? Borgia was
the only patron who was willing to look at and consider Leonardo’s
military inventions—a longtime passion project. From Milan to
France and to the Vatican itself, Leonardo traveled far and wide in
his career, looking for the financial support and artistic freedom he
thought would make him whole.
Nearly half a dozen times, he uprooted himself and his workshop
in a huff, leaving unfinished commissions behind him. Sometimes it
was over a slight. Usually it was because the patron couldn’t quite be
everything Leonardo wanted. The subtext of his angry letters and
half-completed work speaks as loudly to us today as any angry
teenager: You’re not my dad. You can’t tell me what to do. You don’t
really love me. I’ll show you.
Many of us carry wounds from our childhood. Maybe someone
didn’t treat us right. Or we experienced something terrible. Or our
parents were just a little too busy or a little too critical or a little too
stuck dealing with their own issues to be what we needed.
These raw spots shape decisions we make and actions we take—
even if we’re not always conscious of that fact.
This should be a relief: The source of our anxiety and worry, the
frustrations that seem to suddenly pop out in inappropriate
situations, the reason we have trouble staying in relationships or
ignoring criticism—it isn’t us. Well, it is us, just not adult us. It’s the
seven-year-old living inside us. The one who was hurt by Mom and
Dad, the sweet, innocent kid who wasn’t seen.
Think of Rick Ankiel, one of the greatest natural pitchers to ever
play baseball. He had a brutal childhood in the home of an abusive
father and a brother who was a drug dealer. His whole life, he stuffed
this pain and helplessness down, focusing on his skill on the mound,
barry
(Barry)
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