Leonardo da Vinci: Beautiful Failures of an Extraordinary Mind

-Karthik Gurumurthy

I ‘m struck by how deeply human and wonderfully contradictory he was. Far from the flawless genius we often imagine, he was a beautiful mess of brilliance, failure, and unfinished potential.

His story begins in a small Italian town 500+ years ago, yet his masterpiece, the Mona Lisa, remains the most visited painting in the world. What’s fascinating is that his first biographer, Giorgio Vasari, described something almost supernatural in da Vinci’s talents – as if ordinary human potential couldn’t explain his extraordinary abilities across art, geology, optics, anatomy, music, mathematics, botany, mechanics, physics, astronomy, literature, theater, geography, engineering, architecture, hydraulics, and chemistry.

Yet despite this universal genius, da Vinci’s life was filled with setbacks. Being illegitimate actually shaped his entire path – he couldn’t learn Latin formally or attend university, couldn’t follow his father into “noble professions” like becoming a notary or doctor. Instead, he entered the “mechanical arts,” which were considered mere trades. He felt this limitation, writing: “I well know that, not being a literary man, certain presumptuous persons will think they may reasonably deride me with the allegation that I am a man without letters.”

In Florence as an apprentice, da Vinci fortunately found himself in the perfect environment. Painting, sculpture, architecture, metalworking, and engineering were all considered related disciplines, and it was normal for someone to pursue them all – which suited da Vinci perfectly.

His surviving notebooks (started when he was about 30) reveal a mind constantly in motion – filled with grocery lists, library catalogs, artwork studies, anatomical drawings, invention sketches, physics explorations, geometric puzzles, stories, poems, and random doodles. What strikes me is how his art was actually a scientific endeavor – he meticulously studied light, movement, and anatomy to create magical paintings. His technical approach revolutionized painting – his Study of a Tuscan Landscape is considered the first dated landscape study in Western art, and he pioneered new systems of light and shade.

What’s both comforting and frustrating about da Vinci is his long list of failures and abandoned projects. He didn’t finish many paintings, sold few works, abandoned commissions, and left contractual obligations unfulfilled. His experiments sometimes ended in disaster – like a battle scene painted with a new blend of paint that ran down the wall before it could dry, or The Last Supper deteriorating faster than it should have because of his experimental techniques.

His engineering pursuits were also filled with failures. He spent six years trying to create a giant bronze horse statue that never materialized because the required engineering was beyond what was possible. His ambitious attempt to redirect the Arno River failed miserably – the river refused to flow into his channel. His famous walk-on-water shoes were likely impractical, as modern engineers point out that without proper propulsion against the water (which offers less resistance than ground), moving forward while staying upright would be nearly impossible.

What I find most relatable is his self-awareness about his shortcomings. Near the end of his life, he lamented, “I have wasted my hours,” and “I have offended God by not working on my art as I should have.” His mind was so fertile with ideas that he spread himself too thin.

Yet viewing him holistically, his failures were part of his greatness. Perhaps failure in invention can be viewed as a simple mathematical principle, for invention is by nature the product of variation in ideas. The greater the variation, the greater the product of high-quality results, but also the greater the quantity of low-quality results.

In the end, what matters isn’t whether da Vinci considered himself a failure, but the undeniable impact he had on the world through his art and innovations. His walk-on-water shoes might not have worked, but they represent the beautiful imagination of a mind unwilling to accept limitations – even if that meant failing more often than succeeding.