The Urgency of Doing (closed for Homerun2611)

[scarlettnuit]

"I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do." - Leonardo Da Vinci

Catarina flipped through the various scraps of paper she had resting in her lap, trying to calm her nerves. She sat on the edge of one of the many fountains that were dotted through the city. She looked up at the glorious sculpture that stood in the center of this urban oasis and then looked down into the water and saw her reflection. This would never work.



She had learned as much as she could studying art on her own, but she was never satisfied with her work. It seemed like some elusive mystery that she was always on the cusp of discovering yet was always so frustratingly out of reach.



Had she been born a male, or more specifically, not a bastard, she might have been able to ask her father for an art tutor. However, as things stood, her future was uncertain and she and her mother lived in comfortable, yet modest means with the money her father provided for them. However, she never knew exactly who her father was, only that her mother had been sworn to secrecy. It was almost as if he were a ghost.



She brought her thoughts back to the present and studied her reflection. She had borrowed her friend Marco’s clothes in the hopes that she could convincingly pass as a young boy. Her breasts were bound uncomfortably under the plain white shirt and brown vest, both of which were a bit loose on her petite and slender frame. She hoped the ill fit and the vest would be enough to disguise her feminine assets. She had had to pin in the waist of her brown pants so they wouldn’t fall off every time she stood up. Her raven black hair was pinned up under a cap to complete what she hoped was a believable illusion. Her main concern was her eyes. She had rarely seen a man with sea green eyes, and she worried they and her thick black lashes would give her away.



She looked into the distance at the art studio and took a deep breath. Even with her disguise, she was too old to start an apprenticeship, most started when they were only 8 years of age. She might pass for 15 if she were lucky, even if she were in truth, 20 years old.



She stood up and looked herself over one more time and took a deep breath. It was now or never, and she walked towards the studio with manufactured confidence. This had to work, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else with her life than this. Her heart demanded it.



When she walked in she barely caused a flutter of attention as all the artists and their apprentices were hard at work, sculpting, mixing paints, and tending to all the other duties that kept an art studio running. She eventually managed to find a young boy who directed her toward one of the studio masters. She bit the inside of her cheek and walked up the wooden stairs and towards a room at the end of the walkway.



“Pardon me, sir, “she said in a deepened voice, “ I was told that I could speak with you about becoming an apprentice?”, she asked the turned back.

 

[Homerun2611]

The latter two decades of the 1400's in Italy, was a time of peace and unprecedented enlightenment, and appreciation of the arts. It was the heart of the Renaissance, the time of the emergence of Rafael, Michelangelo and da Vinci. Antoni da Signa, was their peer, but like the fourth muskateer, little recognition ever found him. He, like Leonard had risen to master within the Compagnia di San Luca, the guild of artists, under the tutelage, of the grand master, del Verrocchio. However, never did Antoni receive the same love and adoration as his friend from the Grand Master nor the acclaim of the benefactors who worshipped at young Leonardo's shrine.

Antoni had watched with envy the rise of his genius "friend" Leonardo, and now with Leonardo's acceptance of patronage under the Duke of Milan, it was Antoni's time to shine, he hoped to gain recognition within the ruling house of Medici. He knew he needed to curry the favor of the family that not only ruled the Republic of Florence, but owned the bank and where one of their son's, the second oldest, was the current Pope.
Antoni was a fine painter, his landscapes so realistic you could almost feel the leaves of the trees or smell the aroma of the eucalyptus. It was other things, primarily the elusiveness in capturing the human soul and beauty of a woman, that alluded him.

He could only smile at the irony as in comparison to Leonardo and his predilection to young males, the dashing, tall and handsome Antoni, was very attracted to the ladies, and they to him. He wondered if that were his problem, he had caught the attention of the Ladies Medici, even been invited discreetly for a late night consul, but never the wealthy men of the ruling family.

If Leonardo was a genius, Antoni was a plodder, a worker, willing to toil long hours, learning the craft that others seemed to be born with. He like Leonardo had been born to humble beginnings, as a baby left the door of St. Martin of Carcheri, in the small town of Santi, and raised there until the age of 11 within the walls of the old catholic church by the nuns. He showed talents and charm, and was taken to Florence and welcomed into the guild as an apprentice, a glorified indentured servant, surrounded by genius, and eager to learn, and learn he did. Enough to become very, very good, but never, ever great!

And so it was, just as he had as a boy, that he was working hard, as the young man entered, the painter's guild hoping for an opportunity to learn. He was tall, 15 years old if he was a day, and Antoni watched the reaction or lack thereof. Yet he didn't watch the reaction, he watched the young man, for he knew the reaction, it would be NO. Too old, someone would need to take ownership, and there were no takers. Up he stood, even unsure why he was doing it, he put his hand on the boys shoulder. It was frail, a bit like Leonardo had been. "I will take him, sponsor him Master."

it was a fine and magnanimous gesture, except, you could see the expression on the old master's face, and then the hearty laugh that ensued. "You? And how might you do that? You barely have a pot to piss in yourself?" It was true, Antoni had no patron, no sponsor, and it had been over a year since he had earned any commission at all. if he was smart, he would have slunk back to his station, never to draw more attention to his own dismal record... but he didn't, the critique hurt, burned, and so... "I will take him, and I will support him, and if not, you can dismiss me three months hence!"

In fairness, it wasn't much of an offer, Antoni lived in a one room room, twelve feet by fifteen feet, enough room on the floor for a blanket next to his bed, and a daily loaf of bread and wine. But it was all he had, and that was the offer, it was only then he looked into his eyes, and for the first time, realized, he, just might be a her! He found himself staring for a bit, before seeing the nod from del Verrocchio. He put his arm around her, as if in a brotherly bond, but he was also shielding from more detailed scrutiny. "Come with me, let me show you, your new dwellings."