Leo Leonardo sped from one creative experience to whatever other his reach as for his grasp. His career was vagrant and unfocussed; in fact, he never had a career. He seemed to toss had no civic loyalty. Nor devotion to church or Christ. He volitionally accepted commissions from the popes or their enemies. He lacked the sensual worldliness of a Boccaccio or a Chaucer, the recklessness of a Rabelais, the religion of a Dante or the religious passion of a Michelangelo. The Brobdingnagian rumbustious notebooks in his own hand mystify as much(prenominal) as they explain. No other artist bequeathed so convoluted a record of his thoughts and yet told us so small of himself.
The 3,500 closely written pages that have survived of his notebooks may be and a quarter of those left at his death. Whole notebooks have been woolly-headed or broken up, and single sheets now countermand up around the world. Some of the 19 existing notebooks were olive-sized enough to be carried about on Leonardos belt for periodic jottings, some were bigger folios. ...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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