The lower third of this painting by Leonardo is missing. Where did it go? Was it destroyed through accident or by malicious design? What was this girl holding in her hands? I premise it was a bouquet of flowers that held a sinister secret.
Only the perpetrator or perpetrators of this crime know the answer, since the details of her sabotage are as lost as the damaged portion of the panel. It was cut down to form a square – an awkward and unlikely shape for Leonardo, who was committed to the divine proportions of the golden section. The sides may have also been trimmed to eliminate an odd ‘landscape’ format. To my mind, it is most unlikely for Leonardo to have painted half-a-tree, as seen on the right, in the uncropped original.
This painting reveals another hidden secret – a fingerprint made when the portrait was wet, has recently been discovered.
The Latin inscription, ‘virtutem forma decorat’ which means ‘beauty adorns virtue’ (perhaps a tad tongue-in cheek) on the reverse of the painting is off-centre which is further indication of a compromised original ‘format.’ Although I cannot speak for Leonardo (other than in my novels) he seems to be a symmetrical thinker. His inscription would most probably be centered to balance the overall shape of the panel.
Any guesses as to how this work of art came to be destroyed?
In my trilogy, Second Lisa, there is an original image, changed under bizarre circumstances of jealousy and rage, and it becomes a prime example of ‘momento mori’ (Latin for ‘remember that you will die. Often portrayed as a still-life painting of decaying fruit and flowers)
Leonardo painted one woman holding a ferret. How much magnificent detail would be lost forever if it had been ‘edited’ by a vindictive hand? How many ‘Leonardos’ have been retouched, over-cleaned, and purposely disguised to evade ‘capture?’
Leonardo’s drawing of hands may have been a study for the Ginevra commission. They are attributed as a precursor to Mona Lisa’s serenely-composed hands. A marble bust, believed to be Ginevra, sculpted by Leonardos’s first master, Andrea Verrocchio, posed her holding a bouquet of flowers, and several savvy poets dedicated sonnets to her during her ‘most popular girl of the month’ status. Many referenced their ‘it girl’ to a flower.
In my novel Second Lisa, I place something more sinister in Ginevra’s hands, and the portrait’s ‘abductor’ is revealed.
This is why writing historical fiction/fantasy is so cool. An author can listen to their muse and characters can reveal truths that even surprise themselves.
Read an excerpt for Second Lisa in the BOOKS category of this website.