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"Did you look at his paintings?"
"...I did."
"What do you think?"
Hedy didn’t expect to be put on the spot for an art critique right after she got back. She thought for a moment before answering, "His brushwork is delicate, the colors light, and the reproduction of details is really high quality. It looks nice."
Da Vinci, who had been calmer when she first arrived, now straightened up, his tone turning sharp. "His paintings look nice? Then what do you call my paintings?!"
Your paintings are drafts and half-finished pieces...
Before Hedy could respond, Da Vinci stood up and started pacing like a critic, frowning and venting. "That painting by Botticelli—the expression on the Virgin’s face looks like she’s about to jump out of the window! And the angel’s wings look like they’ve been attacked by an eagle! You actually think that looks nice?"
Hedy, aware of his usual temper beneath his composed exterior, naturally tried to calm him down. "Leonardo, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your work. It’s just that you don’t finish your paintings, and I really want to admire them properly."
Da Vinci, momentarily stuck on his words, was still a bit irritated. "Can you blame me for not finishing? I haven’t figured out the perspective and the muscle movement yet. Just slapping it together would be irresponsible!"
You just need an editor to push you to finish your work.
When Da Vinci made his comment, Hedy’s expression shifted from mild apprehension to serious focus. She pulled up a chair and sat beside him, speaking earnestly, “Sir, I’d like to discuss something with you.”
Da Vinci slumped into the chair with a frown, eyeing her. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to go back to his workshop tomorrow.”
“No, no,” Hedy breathed in deeply, gathering the patience she once had when teaching her young son how to play word games. “You love art, and I’m sure you’re committed to studying the structure of bones and muscles, right? You must also need to buy some oil paints and tools for painting, right?”
"Yes, so what?" Da Vinci replied, still puzzled.
“Well, you dissecting perch or shells is fine, but that doesn’t really solve our long-term food situation,” she said, carefully choosing her words to avoid upsetting him. “If we divided our time into blocks, would that help us work more efficiently?”
Da Vinci didn’t expect her to bring up this topic and repeated, “Dividing time?”
Oh, this was a very modern concept.
Hedy couldn’t find a Latin equivalent for the word “efficiency,” so she gestured as she tried to explain. “What if we divided the day like a cake? We could separate it into several pieces, and in each block, we would do specific tasks. Other things wouldn’t interfere, right?”
Da Vinci sat up straighter, a focused look in his eyes. “Go on.”
From his expression, it seemed he wasn’t angry.
Hedy wanted to encourage him to focus more on painting to earn more money, so he could buy more paints for their work. She had lived over eighty years and knew how to navigate such conversations, so her tone softened.
“For example, every day, you design costumes and props for the open-air theater, you go to Palazzo Vecchio to paint for the Medici, and you also study models to understand muscle textures. Your day could be split into four or five parts, each dedicated to a specific task. That way, nothing else would interfere, right?”
This should prevent procrastination for months…
Da Vinci thought for a moment before replying, “We could use Giotto’s bell to guide us.”
“Exactly, at different prayer times, you could do different tasks.”
“This way, I’d have more time to design flying stunts for the theater!" Da Vinci suddenly smiled in delight. "The last time I arranged for that guy to descend from the platform, the effect was amazing. Did you see that performance?”
No! That’s not the point! You’re getting distracted by all of this!
"Sir," Hedy said, her tone becoming serious, "I sincerely advise you to finish the fresco at the Palazzo Vecchio as soon as possible. That way, you'll have more freedom."
Da Vinci looked disappointed, thinking for a moment before responding, "Has my father asked you to hurry me?"
"No," Hedy replied firmly. "But think about tempera—just to paint the Virgin’s skin, you need to mix egg whites into the oil paints to achieve that translucent effect." She emphasized her point. "If you keep delaying, we’ll be eating nothing but black bread for the next few months."
