After the American Century
April 15 was Leonardo da Vinci's birthday. Some years ago I was agreeably shocked to learn that I had
been selected to receive the Leonardo da Vinci Medal. This is awarded to no more than one person each year, and in some years not awarded at all, by the Society for the History of Technology. There is no possibility
of false humility in such a situation, for the humility is quite real and unavoidable. Make
a list of all the many things Leonardo could do, and there is not one that I
can do even remotely as well. Furthermore, what strikes me, when I think of
Leonardo da Vinci, is that he was so interdisciplinary and able to work with a
wide range of people to realize diverse projects. That he was extremely
talented there can be no doubt, but just as important, perhaps, was his easy
movement between, and transfer of ideas from, his various activities. Today
scholars are pressured to specialize, but in his age there was apparently an easier
flow of ideas and people, a mixing of artisans and the arts, of church and
state, of military and civilian life, or of science, medicine, and technology.
One finds Leonardo at one time or another involved with all of these and more.
For me or any modern scholar to receive a prize named after
the person who embodied the ideal of the Renaissance man seems preposterous. If
one of us manages to connect just a few fields – in my case a little art
history, some literature, a smidgen of technology, and a large dose of history
– this is not remotely in the same league with what Leonardo achieved. I will never produce anything that will have
the iconic status of the Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, or his drawing of
Vitruvian Man, nor will I invent new devices, nor devise new military
technologies, nor design bridges, or any of the rest of it.
In short, it is a humbling distinction to receive the
Leonardo da Vinci Medal, because the more I or any recipient thinks about it,
the less worthy we must feel. One
almost longs to have received an award named after a more obscurely famous person,
in order to have a chance of withstanding the comparison.
Gradually, however, I have seen that it is an advantage to
realize how impossible it is to live up to the name of this medal, no matter
how much one has achieved. Since it is entirely hopeless to demonstrate, either
before or after receiving it, that one really deserves the award, I feel
released to keep on dong my bumbling best. And at least one can never receive
an award named after an even more famous person. Who could that possibly be? Leonardo puts one so
completely in the shade that no further distinctions or awards can stir up
immodest delusions. In its way,
that is quite a benefit.
