“Art is never finished, only abandoned” according to Leonardo Da Vinci, who has been described by scholars as a "prolific procrastinator". His never-completed bronze equestrian statue for the Duke of Milan was just one of many incomplete works. To quote my father, “procrastinators are perfectionists” and the exhausting quest for perfection is so often the cause of abandonment. Most of us know there is “no such thing as perfect”, in fact, many artists prefer the “imperfect” altogether. We actively seek out the “off-centre”, grunge, rustic or bohemian settings. We opt for impromptu €3 sangrias, conga drums, the chance to talk life and laugh as loud as we want, over contrived settings - settings that feel more like performative presentations, than soulful experiences. So then why the ambition to deliver a perfect work? Perhaps in a greater pursuit to make the world a little better, we unwittingly attempt to “beautify it”, neglecting to realise that the same world we hope to serve, is infected with fictitious ideas of beauty. Or, perhaps we are informed to a detriment about the creation of meaning and production of culture through art and literature. Or maybe, we entertain theories of collective neural synapses, collective consciousness, dopamine addiction and the damaging effects of media-saturation on our society, so we refrain entirely. Either way, we face a beast. But the liberated artist is like David with five stones - no beast is too mighty. Composed, the liberated artist sings a different song, one of truth.

 

The thing is, truth isn’t always “pretty”, but neither is life. Ironically, that is exactly what makes it beautiful, hence the enjoyment in those rustic, bohemian settings. “Character” or “sensation” was always a more accurate “measure” of beauty - if ever there was one. And even if we knew this all along, we’ve been conditioned to operate within the frameworks as laid out by supply and demand. Inadvertently, we may deny our niche and abandon a little corner of society, who much like ourselves are happy to mull on the abstract and pontificate the “imperfect”. Truth, delivered in whichever virtuosity, is a gateway to freedom. Is not the exhilarating sensation of freedom more satisfying than the fleeting perception of a subjective “pretty”? Is not the former a sensation that lasts eternity, while the latter a sensation that spikes the insulin of your soul? How many writers like Franz Kafka may be one of the most influential figures in literature, and have died unintentionally-hoarding a wealth of thought provoking gems and abstracts of truth? All just because they accepted the framework. All because their frustrated inner poet deemed their own work indelibly unavailing. And how many hundreds of thousands of people visited The Queens Gallery in Buckingham Palace in 2019 to see Da Vinci’s “drafts” and “incomplete sketches”? How many are just as engrossed in his process of thinking, as they are moved by his masterpieces? 

 

What does it all mean for the artist? Instead of fearing the critic or the moderator, we can simply shift our focus off product and onto process, in all its raw, messy and incomplete glory. We can go back and edit it later. I believe that just as the journey is the destination, the process is the product. When we adopt that mentality, we can live more uninhibitedly in our art and explore any virtuosity as a mode for expression and/or catharsis. In doing so we remember why we started - to feel more deeply, to express with greater conviction and for the catharsis required for our own evolution. It was never about masterpieces, fame, fortune or acclaim. It was always about the exploration of the human condition, discovery of Self, alignment with The Divine, freedom of the soul and unconditional love. 

 

We don’t know who “the abstract” will touch, or what emotion a “mere draft” might evoke in another person. We don’t know who might frame one of our “scrubby little sketches”, and decide it will hang perfectly above the old piano in their studio in Juan Les Pins. Ultimately, we don’t know whose soul might speak the same language as ours - maybe no one’s, or maybe just one person. Krzysztof Kieslowski was approached by a girl in Paris who told him that his film, ‘La Double Vie de Véronique’ was the reason she came to believe in souls. Kieslowski said he’d endure the production torment all over again, just to spark belief in that one girl. Art has a profound impact, one the artist has no control over, and that’s what makes it wonderfully scary. You have impact. You are a living, breathing masterpiece crafted by divine intel. Your life, as the process of your becoming, for your character arc and display of freewill is your masterpiece. That can be scary too, particularly for the highly mindful. However, if our intention is pure then we should trust the ripples of impact. Throw that stone to the sea, let go and let God! 

 

Da Vinci’s approximate 20 painting output is considered small by scholars, but that’s what makes them so valuable (opinions make him no less a legend and he did so many other things). Becoming the subject of rumour and false accusations, Da Vinci fled to France where he was offered refuge by King Francis I. It’s said the two became inseparable because the King loved to converse with the artist. With him even in death, Francis cradled Da Vinci’s head as he took his last breaths. The allegorical nature of Da Vinci dying with his head in regal hands is poignantly beautiful and fitting, because like Giorgio Vasari said, “All his actions seem inspired, and indeed everything he does clearly comes from God rather than from human skill.” In addition, Francis said of Da Vinci, “No man possessed such a knowledge of painting, sculpture, or architecture as Leonardo, but the same goes for philosophy. He was a great philosopher.” Noble hearts have clear eyes, and just as Vasari saw Da Vinci’s divinity, Francis saw his philosophy. Those of good-standing will see you for more dear artist. More than “your product”, they will see you for your mind and soul, and respect the process of your becoming. Let those noble hearts be your subject. Let “the rest” be the background tones that serve only for the purpose of juxtaposition. 

 

Frammento, or “Framment Works” is like an hors d'oeuvre from permanently or temporarily abandoned works, of any kind. They are the abstracts of truth or expression, like postcards from the journey of One's becoming. So, in the name of Leonardo Da Vinci, Franz Kafka, my sister Bobbi and all the other artists, writers, poets and thinkers who haven’t yet found a place for their abstracts, who have stacks of drafts, sketches and incomplete works shoved in a draw. Those who may assume they'll forever be unseen or unheard, while they attempt to figure out the nuts and bolts of their own unique mind. Or, because they become sidetracked with staying afloat and paying rent. Frammento is for you. I feel you and I honour your process. I hope you won’t wait for a Max Brod to publish your manuscripts, essays, plays and monologues upon your death. Or for a King to provide you refuge so you can finish your Mona Lisa in peace. Who knows who you might elevate in your process. I hope Frammento will be just the umbrella you need to take a walk in the rain and air the abstracts of your becoming, because ultimately, it is your becoming that writes the tale of your legacy.