WHY I’VE ALWAYS LOVED DA VINCI — THE ORIGINAL SUPERHERO

Leonardo da Vinci has always fascinated me — not just as an artist, but as a thinker who refused to be limited by definition. He was a painter, an inventor, an engineer, an anatomist, and a visionary whose curiosity extended into every corner of existence. Long before the world had language for concepts like “multidisciplinary” or “cross-disciplinary practice”, Da Vinci was already embodying them. What inspires me most about him isn’t simply the Mona Lisa or The Last Supper, but the mindset behind them — the relentless pursuit of understanding, and the belief that creativity could be engineered through observation, mathematics, and imagination.

Da Vinci was, in many ways, a misfit. Born illegitimate, left-handed, and self-taught, he lived on the margins of convention. Yet that outsider position became his advantage. Where others saw rules, he saw systems waiting to be reimagined. His notebooks overflow with anatomy sketches, architectural plans, hydrodynamic studies, and inventions far ahead of his time — ideas that would take centuries for the world to catch up with. He viewed art and science not as separate disciplines, but as extensions of the same pursuit: decoding the structure of reality. He painted light as if he were studying physics, drew muscles as if he were designing machinery, and treated beauty itself as a solvable equation.

That, to me, is what makes him the original superhero. His power wasn’t physical strength or mythic legend — it was intellect. He believed that the human mind, fuelled by curiosity, could achieve almost anything. Every drawing, invention, and experiment was an act of defiance against limitation. He imagined flight before the world had engines. He built bridges in his mind that no one else could see. He made curiosity heroic.

My connection to Da Vinci goes beyond admiration; it’s personal. On the 500th anniversary of his death in 2019, I had his portrait tattooed on my left foot — a quiet tribute to the man who has shaped so much of how I think and create. Da Vinci was ambidextrous, but predominantly left-sided, and I’m cross-ambidextrous — right-handed, but left-footed. My left foot felt like the right place for him: a symbolic nod to that shared duality, a reminder that creativity lives in both logic and intuition, movement and design. It’s a mark of respect for someone whose footsteps I try to follow in my own way.

I think of myself as a Leonardeschi — a follower, admirer, and modern-day student of Leonardo. I’m continuing his legacy through my own pop-punk style: engineered stencils instead of engineered flying machines, spray paint instead of oils, digital technology instead of mechanical invention. The tools have changed, but the intent is the same — to merge creativity and innovation, to design meaning, to push ideas forward.

Like Da Vinci, I’ve never wanted to exist in a single category or medium. My work has always been about connecting worlds — combining art, fashion, design, architecture, psychology, and philosophy to find the harmony between them. I’m fascinated by the structures that underpin beauty: proportion, symmetry, geometry, rhythm. Concepts like the Fibonacci sequence or the rule of thirds aren’t just compositional guidelines; they’re patterns of balance that appear throughout nature. Understanding those principles allows me to build work that feels instinctive and emotional, yet grounded in order and intent.

That same curiosity drives everything I build beyond the canvas. It’s in CreateScene, the platform I co-founded to help creatives connect, collaborate, and discover opportunity — a digital echo of the Renaissance workshops Da Vinci thrived in. It’s in Art Is The Cure, the movement I started to remind people that creativity can be a force for healing and change. Both are born from the same belief Da Vinci held centuries ago: that art is not decoration, but evolution — a way of understanding ourselves and improving the world around us.

Da Vinci proved that creativity doesn’t have to be linear or confined. It can be expansive, intricate, and deeply interconnected — a fusion of intellect and intuition that transcends boundaries and redefines beauty.

Like Da Vinci — once described as a “blithe societal misfit” — I’ve always been drawn to that space between disciplines. I see creativity as a system of exploration rather than expression alone. It’s about questioning, learning, building, refining, and rethinking how art can exist in the modern world. The traditional art world often values consistency over evolution, but Da Vinci reminds me that progress depends on perpetual curiosity. He didn’t paint to fit in; he painted to understand. His notebooks weren’t just studies — they were manifestos of thought, proof that the mind is the most powerful creative tool we have.

When I reflect on his legacy, I see not only a historical figure, but a philosophy. A reminder that the most meaningful art comes from curiosity, discipline, and the courage to think differently. As I evolve my own work — exploring texture, materiality, and design systems — I keep that same principle at the centre: to approach creativity as an investigation, to question the expected, and to build connections between seemingly separate worlds.

Leonardo da Vinci was an artist, an engineer, a designer, and a thinker whose ideas still resonate half a millennium later. His genius lay not just in what he created, but in how he thought — expansively, fearlessly, and with endless curiosity. To me, that’s the true definition of a modern creative: someone who never stops learning, experimenting, or questioning. Someone who believes that art and innovation are not opposites, but partners in progress.

And that’s the legacy I try to carry forward — not to imitate Da Vinci, but to continue what he started: the pursuit of knowledge through creativity, and the belief that imagination, when guided by intellect, can redesign the world.