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there are no lines

In Ken Burns’ new documentary, we learn that Leonardo da Vinci believed there are no lines in nature, just edges. One thing meets another, and there is an edge. As an artist, this is relevant. If you are painting a portrait, the place where the cheekbone of your subject meets the background is an edge. But there is no line around the person’s face. There is no line between tree and sky, between castle wall and moat. Da Vinci noticed this (obvious once it’s pointed out) and strove to recreate that reality in his paintings.


In life, we often think of things – events mostly, I suppose, but castles and trees and people, too – as having a beginning and an end. I’m 20 years old for 365 days and then, one day, I am 21. When I travel to visit my sister, I leave my town and cross into hers. I’m employed, then I’m unemployed, then I’m employed again. My house has walls, my trees are only so big, my grass stops at the sidewalk. We easily imagine things to be either or. Here or there. Separate. It seems logical to draw lines in life but I’m not convinced that’s the best way to look at things. I prefer to employ da Vinci’s approach.


Here we are in the middle of Christmas and holiday season. But it doesn’t all happen in one day; it’s not simply work, work, work, and then it’s Christmas (or pick your holiday) day and then we’re right back to work or ordinary life. We lead up to it and then the day arrives. And we remain in the afterglow of it for some time after. Lots of things in life have this property. We focus on the moment, the hour, the day but we lose sight of the importance of preparation, context and aftermath. A specific birth may take hours but there were months and months leading up to it. The same can be said of a particular death. On a grander scale, think of wars, empires, civilizations. In spite of particular dates associated with particular events, there really are no actual lines.


Of course, life is abundant with beginnings and endings. We can all remember specific important moments that mark some sense of before and after in our own lives. But, I like to think of da Vinci’s edges as a reminder to enjoy the journey. It’s an invitation to notice differences in degrees, to understand the ways we are not separate. I want to see myself in context as part of the whole. 



12/16/24

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